Insider

Twenty-five

This would be the end of all bad things.  And I was ready.

Not a single trace of Criz could make it out, I was determined to let no more blood be shed on Crimson Night's behalf.  Trish had her shipments in a back room behind double doors, and was frantically trying to get them sent out an exit door.  I made a beeline towards the drug, and Trish herself.  She looked even sicker than before.  She looked lost, wanting to end it all.  I couldn't- I wouldn't let that happen.  

"Trish!" I screamed, fighting my way through Crimson Night goons.  "Trish, stop!"

Nobody noticed a girl too small for her age with a scarred face, and only armed with a knife scrambling to meet a drug boss she once called family.  Nobody noticed that this girl was trying to save the new family that saved her.  I just ran.  

The second I made it into the back room, Trish slammed her fist into a button that sealed the double doors shut.  She shouted, "Don't come any closer, I'm going to fucking send them out no matter what.  I'm gonna do it, Elissa, I don't give a damn anymore."

Voice raw, I cried, "Will that bring your father back?  Will that bring Stacey back?"

From her jacket sleeve, Trish pulled out a small handgun.  In one clear shot, she fired at the wall.  "Don't mention them... I really don't want to kill you."

"Then don't.  Put the gun down, and we can work something out."

"Work something out?" seethed Trish.  "Why do you want to help me?  I killed Matt, I killed Tobias, I..." she cut herself off, typing something into her phone and darting towards the exit door.

"Trish," I said.  "Trish."

She looked at me, eyes bloodshot and glazed by a storm.

"I want to help you," I told her, "Because I made a promise to a little girl that I would help her lost mother find where she's going."

For a moment Trish paused.  Her breathing increased, and her eyes bounced off of every corner in the room.  Somewhere in the mind that had been clouded and suppressed by drugs, Trish realized how she had hurt her daughter.  The woman knew all that she had done was wrong, and I was certain that she wanted a way out.  But, just as quickly as that moment arrived, it was gone.  Trish lunged at me, and I began the fight for my life.

She tried to push me down, but I scrambled onto a table and towards the drugs, hoping to block her from getting to them.  There seemed to be millions of pills loaded in open storage bins, ready to be widespread.  At least twenty of these storage bins were present, and I had to get them all into the hands of S.H.I.E.L.D..

A bullet grazed my leg, I fell to the ground, trying to dodge Trish's firing.  I formed an idea, and with every ounce of energy I had I kicked the table, knocking over two bins of drugs.  The powder seemed to get everywhere, my throat was clogged with the stuff.  I was coughing and covered in the grainy substance.  Just as long as I didn't swallow it, I would be fine.  That was what I told myself, although I didn't know if it was true.

Trish fired again, barely missing me.  I ran towards her, knocking her to the ground.  We flailed for her handgun, throwing equal amounts of kicks and punches.  Through all the grit I managed to say, "There's no place where you'd come out on top, Trish.  Stop!"  

Our hands were intertwined, both attempting to grab the weapon.  Her arm was around my shoulder, just like when we first met.  Except now she was pinning me down, trying to kill me.  The woman who saved my life all those years ago was gone, my fate was in the hands of a villain.

 "Stop, for Jasmine!" I urged, face crushing against the concrete floor.  

In one motion she grabbed the knife- my knife- and thrust it into my shoulder.  Blood spurted across the room.

Face blotched with fury, Trish grabbed a fistful of her deadly Criz, forcing it into my mouth.  I couldn't spit it out, only feel it fall down my throat, burning the whole way.  Perhaps she thought that this would be my end.  My vision was clouding, lights pounding brightly against the corners of my eyes.  Trish was shouting something, but it was drawn out and incomprehensible.  This wasn't the drug that would make you forget your emotions, this drug was killing me.

Unless...

I saw something silver out of the corner of my eye.  My outstretched hands reached towards it, grasping the thing shakily.  

"You are strong, Elissa."

As I started to make out Trish's figure, I thrust my knife to her throat and pinned the handgun underneath my boot.  As she looked at the blade and back at me, I said with a voice like ice:

"Stop, Trish.  It's over."