Disclaimer: Don't own and never will.
AN: I was really struggling for an appropriate one here, but then I remembered this and all was well. Except for Lila of course. Getting murdered is generally bad for your health.
Lila wasn't sure what was worse. The vomiting or the diarrhea. The clear vomit or the fishy smelling, watery diarrhea that just kept coming. (She had lost track of how much. But so damn much.) She had long since overwhelmed the bucket that they had left for her to use and now the room was filthy with shit and vomit.
She glared at the door. It had been…she actually didn't know how long really. She had banged against that door for hours, maybe even days, begging for a doctor or some kind of medical treatment.
But no. The door had remained silent and she no longer had the energy to even try. She doubted that it would have done any good anyway.
She looked in the mirror. The image stared back at her, mocking her with her image. She was no longer the stunning Italian she was when they had kidnapped her. They had dragged her out of her apartment, removed her tag and driven her out to God knows where. Then they injected her with something…something poisonous, she was sure about that and a couple of hours or so later…well that's when the diarrhea had kicked in.
No, the girl who looked back at her from the mirror was a sickly specimen. Her skin had gained a bluish hue and her eyes had sunk into their sockets. Even her hands were wrong, wrinkling up like an old person.
And then there was the complete loss of energy. She knew that it wasn't healthy, but she just felt a complete lack of energy. She didn't even have the energy to grab any water for her dry mouth and she wasn't sure that it would stay down anyway.
She was going to die. She knew that much. And, mercifully, after days of suffering, it was going to happen soon.
She closed her eyes for the last time.
Several hours later, the building was burning and all trace of Lila's demise was consumed by the flames.