Cold tile chilled the girl's flesh, a discarded syringe sitting some feet away, having rolled from the teen's open palm. There was a draft billowing in from the vent, clothing her in goosebumps as she lay, naked and shivering upon the bathroom floor.
An empty vile was clutched in her free hand, glass warm from being wrapped inside her tight embrace. Pulling herself up, the nurse feebly scrambled for the toilet, head hovering over the bowl as a wave of nausea washed over her.
Lisa had been using the drug for almost a month, and though it had started as an irregular occurrence, over time, she found herself unable to function without the substance streaming through her veins. It had become her lifeline.
Kaufman was rarely ever at the hospital, presumably preoccupied with some unknown task. On the fleeting occasion that the nurse was able to thank him, the man seemed rather indifferent, though he did offer to provide her with more PTV, should she so need it.
Well, she needed it.
Her urges had become harder to ignore, and regardless of how she told herself that everything was under control, the intern had gradually fallen prey to addiction. Her body shook from the strain of trying to endure the withdrawal, hands twitching uncontrollably.
Not a speck of fluid remained inside the jar, sending a surge of panic through the young woman. Entire body wrought with agony, it was as though her brain had been rewired, causing immense pain when she couldn't have what she so desperately needed.
There were days when she wanted to crawl beneath her bed and die, crying and rocking like a lonely baby seeking a mother's warmth. Depression consumed her, misery trailing her heels like an ever present rain cloud hanging above her head.
Palms constantly moist, she couldn't seem to quell the cold sweats that followed, clammy and uncomfortable. When she was sick, it was often an abundance of stomach bile, her gut empty from a lack of appetite.
Letting the glass container fall to the floor, she placed a hand on the bathtub, shedding drops of water as she clumsily pulled on a set of clean clothes. Damp hair dripping dew down her neck, the groggy girl stumbled forward, all but bursting through her bedroom door.
It had been a bad trip, which wasn't uncommon. Most of them filled her with immense joy, whilst others left her sobbing in the fetal position. Yet still she kept returning for another dose, eager to get the thrill she so desired.
Both arms were riddled with lesions, ugly scars both fading and fresh. It hurt too much to inject the needle, forcing her to seek alternatives until they had healed. The elbow, the thigh, between her toes. Anywhere would do, so long as she achieved the same result.
Thirsty, she descended the stairs and headed for the kitchen, pouring herself some water. Drinking the entirety in one long gulp, she refilled the glass, taking a seat at the kitchen table. From the hall, she heard her mother approaching.
The Garland house had become an unhappy place, littered with arguments and petty fights. Lisa had developed depression, finding it difficult to concentrate on simple tasks. She struggled to find a reason to care about anything but the drug.
This sudden change in personality hadn't gone unnoticed, causing friction amongst her parents. The girl rarely ever spoke to them, and when she did engage in conversation, it usually amounted to a volley of awkward questions.
What's wrong with you? Why aren't you eating? Is everything okay?
The nurse didn't want to hear it, burrowing her head between her arms as she let her forehead rest on the wooden surface. The door clicked open, followed by the sound of an agitated tsk. Her mother was right beside her, arms folded firmly against her floral blouse.
'You're soaking wet.'
'I took a bath.'
'Yes, and you left footprints all over the floor.'
Lisa grunted, slowly sipping at her water. Pushing herself upright, she stared into her mother's pale eyes, lacking the necessary energy to form a coherent reply.
The clock read nine fifteen, yet she had taken a bath hours before. Body still soaking, she had fallen unconscious on the tile floor, suffering a terrible assortment of nightmarish images that assaulted her senses. It still resonated with the troubled teen.
She remembered spiders clambering up the walls, rats scurrying about the floor, strange humanoid creatures flitting before her eyes. They would sit and watch her from afar, though they would never reply when she called out to them.
Her throat was hoarse and her voice absent, unable to scream despite the shock. It had been so horrible that she had rolled into a tight ball and prayed for it to end. She wished she could pick and choose which visions she got to experience, but sadly, she could not.
'What do you want?' She was frowning, yet her voice was a dissonant calm. 'You want me to clean it up? Fine, I'll clean it up.'
The older woman sat down beside her, placing a comforting hand over her daughter's. 'I'm worried about you. If there's something wrong, you can tell me.'
'I'm fine.'
Her mother's fingers began kneading the raw flesh, still itchy and sore. Frustrated, the nurse drew her hand away, cupping them safely in her lap. A trickle of water ran down her forehead, creating a path down her face as it settled on the tip of her chin.
'Will you please leave me alone?' She replied.
'Not until you tell me why you're being so difficult.'
Heaving a sigh, Lisa angled her body towards the woman, running the back of her hand along her face to wipe away any excess dew. Stern expression clouding her usually cheerful mien, she let her gaze bore into that of her mother's.
'I'm sick of being treated like a baby. I want a little freedom, to go out and do things without having to worry about what you think, or what you say.'
Her parent made to stand, brow wrinkled as she leaned over her child. 'We've been through this before.' She said, waving a hand in the air. 'You're being dramatic. All this talk of wanting freedom, you make it sound like we keep you prisoner.'
'Don't you?' The nurse queried. 'When did you last ask me what I wanted?'
'When you leave home, you can have whatever you like, but as long as you live under our roof, you will obey our rules.' She reprimanded, completely ignoring the question.
Lisa scoffed, casually folding both legs beneath her. Running a hand through her damp tresses, she slicked them back out of her eyes, a damp sheen seeping into her flesh.
It all seemed so ridiculous, letting somebody have so much control over her. She wasn't in any sort of mood to listen to the nonsense the woman was spouting, bored with the constant drabble that seemed to repeat itself like a broken record.
'Is it alcohol? Has somebody coerced you into drinking?'
The nurse responded with a dry laugh. 'Do I look drunk?' She caustically replied, finishing off her drink.
It was ironic, she thought, that her mother was so utterly wrong, yet so close to being right. Shaking her head, she pondered why the woman always assumed that somebody else was responsible. Yes, Kaufman had given her the PTV, yet she had willingly chosen to take it.
'You look ill.' She replied, cupping the intern's face with both hands. 'You've gotten so thin. I can't stand to see you waste away before my eyes, please try and eat something.'
'I'm not hungry.'
'But you're losing so much weight!' She exclaimed, reaching out to grab the girl.
Unbeknown to the woman, she had snatched Lisa by her sore arm, pressing down hard on a sensitive bruise. The nurse yelped, jerking away from her grip to place some distance between the two of them. Rubbing at her burning wound, she scowled.
'That hurt.'
Defiance on her features, she stood to her full height, glowering at her mother. It was as though all of the teen's inhibitions had vanished, dissolving amidst the dark substance that resided in her veins. She could feel the words tainting her tongue as she spoke, and each syllable tasted wonderful.
'You always do this.' She hissed, fists clenched at her sides, tone a dissonant calm. 'You like to be in control. Do this, do that, abandon your dreams and become a nurse. I'm sick of it.'
The older woman balked. 'Is that was this is about? Some silly childhood fantasy.'
'It's not silly! I could have been a star.'
Her mother made a sound of disagreement. 'How many people do you think live on this planet? There are plenty of girls just like you, all clamouring for the same roles. Silent Hill is one town, in one country. Did you really think you stood any kind of chance?'
'Yes I did! People were always telling me-'
'What?' She interrupted, voice rising. 'That you were going to be famous? That you'd have your name up in lights?' The woman shook her head, chuckling. 'You're seventeen. It's about time you started living in the real world.'
The girl grimaced, trying not to let her emotions betray her stoic demanour. 'You never believed in me. You or dad.'
'I'm the only one who did.' She caught a stray tear with her finger, removing it and rubbing the salty liquid against her thumb. 'Look at you. You're humble, sweet and plain. You belong on a hospital ward, not on a stage.'
The words hit hard, and tears began to flood Lisa's eyes. She quickly blinked them back, pushing her way past the woman as she retraced her steps through the hall. She couldn't listen to anymore, disappointed that even now, her mother refused to be swayed.
From the living room, she could see her father peering through the door, swiftly averting his gaze. As usual, he was letting his wife's opinions take precedence over those of his own. She didn't even know what he really thought, never voicing his feelings to anybody.
Standing before the man, the teen felt her face contort into a look of disdain, rage building up inside her like a bomb on the verge of exploding. She wouldn't be like that, she wouldn't be a coward. She couldn't have her dream, but she still had a future, and she wasn't going to let anyone hold her back from what she wanted to do.
And to hell with what you think.
Storming upstairs, she slammed the door behind her, the force vibrating the boards beneath her rug. Grabbing the vial, she shoved the empty jar into a small metal bin, hiding the syringe inside her bag. In the morning, she would go to Kaufman, and she would ask him for more.
Because that is what I want to do.