[ lay waste ]

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In case anyone was curious, wolfsbane is a real plant, and is actually extremely dangerous.

"Marked symptoms may appear almost immediately, usually not later than one hour, and "with large doses death is almost instantaneous." Death usually occurs within two to six hours in fatal poisoning (20 to 40 mL of tincture may prove fatal).[15] The initial signs are gastrointestinal including nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. This is followed by a sensation of burning, tingling, and numbness in the mouth and face, and of burning in the abdomen.[3] In severe poisonings pronounced motor weakness occurs and cutaneous sensations of tingling and numbness spread to the limbs. Cardiovascular features include hypotension, sinus bradycardia, and ventricular arrhythmias. Other features may include sweating, dizziness, difficulty in breathing, headache, and confusion. The main causes of death are ventricular arrhythmias and asystole, paralysis of the heart or of the respiratory center.[15][16] The only post-mortem signs are those of asphyxia."

If it does that to normal people, imagine what it's like for poor werewolf Karlie. 

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Taylor had never seen Karlie, or anyone really, so weak.  She vaguely remembered a two-year-old Austin with a fever, sick and sweating while her parents worriedly hovered around him.  But this was different.  Karlie was the color of chalk, her eyes sunken in like some sort of abstract painting of a skeleton.  Her lips were tinted blue.  Taylor had covered her with blankets, but Karlie's legs kept kicking them off, revealing skin shiny and slick with sweat.

She wanted to call 911, but as Karlie had downed something called activated charcoal that she kept on hand just in case, she refused to allow it, claiming that it was too risky, that they wouldn't believe the situation anyway.  Taylor was beginning to regret listening.  Her hand reached out, touching Karlie's shoulder, and the younger girl whimpered as though Taylor had slapped her.  Her skin was horribly sensitive, and even just a graze of Taylor's fingers over it was enough to almost burn her with the strength of the fever.  It was like there was a layer of lava pumping beneath Karlie's skin, a second epidermis that had lit on fire.

Even as she watched, Karlie's body spasmed, and she grabbed the garbage can next to the bed, emptying her stomach once more.  The gags turned into desperate sobs, ones that seemed too powerful for Karlie's body to take.  Quickly, Taylor hurried to the bathroom, grabbing a couple of washcloths and soaking them with cold water.  She rested one above the curve of Karlie's eyebrows, hoping it would chill her blazing flesh.  The other was used to wipe the model's mouth, and then gently dab away the sweat on her skin except when Karlie whimpered in pain.

Taylor sat back on her heels, just looking at Karlie's face, her eyes screwed tightly shut, her mouth twisted in a landslide of misery.  And she couldn't help her.  All she could do was sit back and watch, and she wanted to cry.  Karlie looked like a ghost, and Taylor worried that maybe it was an omen.  Maybe Karlie already was one, and Taylor was just watching the last few moments she clung to existance.

"Karlie, baby, you need to stay with me," Taylor murmured, trying to sound soothing but instead just sounding like she was about to cry.

Green eyes shot open, and Taylor was startled by the way they looked.  They were entirely wolfish, and entirely afraid.  She looked like nothing more than a wild animal, panicked and helpless.  And when she tried to speak, it took a few tries for her mouth to work.  Her words were slurred and stuttered like her tongue wouldn't fit behind her teeth, "T-Taaylor, I can't feel my face."

It sounded so weak, so hopeless, and Taylor felt her heart shatter.  She whispered gently, "It'll be okay.  I'm going to get you some water." But it was just an excuse to get away for a moment, because she didn't know what to say or do.  She didn't know how to stop herself from crying.

Because right now, as far as she knew, she was watching Karlie die right in front of her.

She filled a glass with ice water, then leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, trying to steady herself.  Her hands were shaking, and she felt dizzy.  Karlie was in the next room.  Karlie was dying in the next room.  Taylor closed her eyes so tightly they burned, and a few tears dripped down her cheeks.  It was all happening so fast.  Too fast.  She didn't know what to do and god, jesus, christ, she wasn't ready to lose Karlie.  For the first time in years, she dipped her head, mumbling a prayer under her breath.

"I'll do anything.  God, I'll do anything.  I'll go to church every Sunday.  I'll read the Bible four times a day.  I'll write an album of Christian music.  I'll become a priest, just please God, please don't take her from me.  Not like this," Taylor whispered, and it felt foreign falling from her mouth.  She had been shaky on her beliefs for a long time, but now she was desperate.  It was the only chance she had left, because there wasn't enough power in her hands to solve a damn thing.

She wiped roughly at her eyes, then returned to the bedroom.  She gently sat Karlie up some, hating the pain and the weakness on her face.  The model drank the water slowly, like each sip hurt her.  And after three or four, she started to cough, taking in heavy breaths underlined with asthmatic wheezing.  She gripped her throat, shaking her head, and Taylor realized that Karlie's throat was swelling, closing up.

Somehow, adrenaline overtook everything else, and she stopped panicking.  She held the cool glass to the back of Karlie's neck, calmly rubbing her fingers along the damp skin next to the girl's spine and murmuring midndless comforts until her airway reopened some, and Karlie could take steadier inhales.  Taylor kissed the back of her head, gentle, trying to ignore the thick scent of fever that clung to Karlie's skin.

There was a long silence, and then breathing changed again.  This time, though, Taylor recognized the erratic rhythm of crying.  She tilted Karlie's face up, looking at the thick tears falling down her numb cheeks.  Her voice was even thicker than before, " 'm gonna die, aren' I?"

"No," Taylor replied, voice shockingly firm even as her heard shattered like glass between her lungs, "No, Karlie.  You're going to be okay."

Karlie cried a little bit harder, and Taylor couldn't fight her own tears anymore.  She sat next to Karlie for an hour, wiping her face when her stomach emptied itself, calming her when her throat closed temporarily again.  The whole time, Taylor's eyes bled tears down her cheeks.  Every broken breath, every pained whimper, every spasm of agony through Karlie's stomach that made the girl curl up into a ball felt like a fresh bulletwound.  Taylor was bleeding out onto the nice white sheets as Karlie grew more and more disoriented and frail.

Two hours, and Karlie was unable to speak anymore.  Her words came out as garbled noises, and when she realized Taylor couldn't understand her, she grew miserably mute.  Her stomach became entirely empty, and the only thing left to bring up was air and bile that burned her throat.  Soon her eyes closed and her breathing grew more ragged.  Taylor held the girl's head against her chest, hand gentle against Karlie's neck, fingers resting just lightly on the place where a pulse fluttered beneath skin. 

She had to make sure it didn't stop beating.

The clock on the nightstand read 1:30 a.m. in vicious red type, and Taylor knew she wasn't going to be sleeping.  She was too filled with fear to fall asleep.  She had too much to protect.  Karlie's frail body was in her arms, and she was the one thing holding the girl's powder bones together.  Everything depended on her.

Taylor kissed the place where Karlie's hair parted, murmuring gently, "Don't you dare leave me, Kloss.  I can't lose you.  I can't.  Please don't leave me.  You're so strong, Karlie.  You'll be okay."

And with her last prayer spoken, she fell into a silent vigil, waiting for Karlie's condition to change, for better or for worse.

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