Pretty Poison

Forty - Six

I fall in and out, every noise nothing more than a mere echo in my head. My body lays paralyzed on the table, each syringe plunged into my veins taking away my life drip by drip. My vision is blurred, salty tears stinging my face as they cascade down my cheeks. My body feels as if it's on fire, every inch set ablaze by an immortal flame.

I hear a sigh of fake sadness and pity come from beside me, "You look so weak, Beatrice, so pale...so ghastly," Vincenzo's husk voice penetrates the walls of my brain. He strides around his nurses, and settles beside me.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he stares down at me with fogged eyes, his sense of reality and morals relinquished from his mind. Nothing is left to salvage his ethical character, his entire being now existing as nothing more but bad blood and vile bones.

I want to look away from him, take my eyes elsewhere, but I can't, I cannot move a single inch. It feels as if my body no longer belongs to me, my limbs attached to strings that are controlled by a puppeteer. At that, another scorching tear drops from my duct landing on the table and burning through the metal only slightly. Vincenzo instantly notices.
"Absolutely fascinating," he says, his eyes glued to the burned metal, then he meets my gaze again, "Quite a power you have, Beatrice. You have a gift. No one can touch you with their bare hands, no one could ever possibly attack you, rape you, without dying," he iterates, seemingly talking inwardly to himself than to me as he continues. "Truely, amazing."

"Signore Bianchi, we cannot take any more of her fluid, we must wait for her body to compensate for the loss of blood," A man states, his body completely covered with the same thick rubber material only few others wear.

Vincenzo only nods in response, waving the man away. He turns his attention right back to me again. He watches as I struggle to breathe, my chest rising gently only for it to fall back down again, exposing the bottom indents of my ribs. His eyes travel down to my bare stomach, my body covered by nothing except for a bra and panties.

He reaches up a hand to my stomach then, pulling my panties away from my body only slightly to reveal my scar. He stares at it with captivating fascination, tracing its length with his covered index finger. I tremble under his touch, wanting to break free from his hands. He stops as soon as he hears the machine beside me become loud with repeating beeps.

"When Sergio found you, he mentioned your scar. He said that it was split open, like it was just freshly cut. That's when he said he touched you and was shocked, or whatever it was."

I sit and listen to him, no memory of anything he's saying coming to mind. I want to speak, ask things, but my voice seemingly left my body.

"Now, he's dying because of you. But the thing that's strange is that you never actually touched him, only the car. Yet, you put him in a trance, as if your poison seeped into the interior of the car, tranquilizing those inside," he begins to pace, his arms crossed against his chest with one hand rubbing his chin as if in thought. "There's so many things that don't make sense, and I don't know if they ever will," he runs a hand through his sleek dirty blonde hair, pushing back strands that have fallen in his eyes.

My sight goes dark for a moment, then it comes back. Black spots blur my vision, everything around me falling into black holes, their shape warped in time. The clanking, clamouring, and slamming of doors, devices, and glass vials grow annoying, my senses merging into one as I struggle to stay awake.

"How could my brother touch you, Beatrice? How could he touch you and be completely unaffected? Assuming that he did put a hand on you, how is that possible?" Vincenzo stops his pacing, his body now leaning over me. "How is it possible, Beatrice? Tell me!" He shouts, his nerves heightened and nostrils flaring like a bull's.

I struggle to open my mouth, to squeeze out a word, but nothing happens. This earns me another slap to the face, my head now facing the other way. My skin begins to seeth in pain, the previous anguish only intensifying. From the corner of my eye, I see Vincenzo turn away from me, walking off in the opposite direction.

"Keep an eye on her, don't stop till you find something, anything. I'll be back later, I expect to find progress!" His voice bellows off the walls, striking fear into every single man and woman in the room. At that, the door seals shut.

I can't breathe, my lungs feel as if they are collapsing onto themselves. My vision becomes even more blurred, my head pounding like a hammer. I struggle to keep my eyes open, until finally, I can't.