Distractions

Forty-Two: Corpses Aren't Friends

This chapter took a lot out of me to write, I won't lie. It's a really heavy chapter (hence the delay), and I had to take a lot of breaks while writing it so that I still had the energy to exist outside of my computer. That being said,  this was originally supposed to be the first half of a chapter but it got away from me a little bit, so now it's its own chapter. Also, when reading the trigger warnings, keep in mind that not all of them are applicable at once.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, corpses, death of loved ones, gunshots, non-sexual/non-consensual restraint, mass death, addiction, overdose, extreme pain, nightmares, implied multilation, non-consentual dugs, anger, suicide, self harm scars, hallucinations, anxiety, panic attacks, fear, spiraling thoughts, self sabotage, guilt, attempted suicide, self harm, lying, overwhelm, subtly explicit sensuality, mentions of abusive family, discussions of attempted suicide, discussions of past hospitalization

Trigger Warnings: Blood, corpses, death of loved ones, gunshots, non-sexual/non-consensual restraint, mass death, addiction, overdose, extreme pain, nightmares, implied multilation, non-consentual dugs, anger, suicide, self harm scars, hallucinations, anxiety, panic attacks, fear, spiraling thoughts, self sabotage, guilt, attempted suicide, self harm

Corpses, death, and hallucination trigger warnings apply for the entire chapter

Her skin itched with dried blood—hers or others' she did not know. Corpses rotted around her, even as the sterile smell she associated with hospitals filled the dark alleyway. Glass rained down on her and the corpses as the bang bang bang of a gun being fired drowned out her ragged breathing. The glass sliced into her stomach, reopening wounds that had long since scarred and digging into the bullet wounds that littered many of the corpses. She tried to staunch the bleeding on her stomach, but she couldn't move. She struggled against the ropes binding her to a chair, jerking around as hot tears streamed down her face. It was no use. The ropes didn't budge. Her leg burned as if Greek fire was winding up it but she couldn't scream. She couldn't open her mouth. She couldn't make a sound. The tears fell faster, throat burning and the fire winding up towards the open wounds on her stomach.  

One of the corpses twitched and her head jerked towards it. They were alive. They could help her. They could untie her. The figure turned towards Everest slowly, haltingly, as if a puppet controlled by an amateur. It was Izzy, pale and shaking and hair plastered to her skin by still glistening sweat. Her eyes were glassy, a trembling finger pointed directly at Everest.

"It's your fault," Izzy said in a monotone. "You couldn't kill the demon that possessed me. You're the reason I got injured and got addicted. You're the reason I'm like this."

No! Everest had nothing to do with Izzy getting addicted to Yin Fen. That was Aldertree. It wasn't her fault.

"You're the reason Eloise is dead," Izzy said in that same monotone, pointing at a corpse beside her. "You're the reason she did what she did."

Everest shook her head, tears burning her skin as they tried to break through the dried blood on her face. No. Eloise had left rehab and overdosed. That was why she died. Not because of Everest. Everest didn't do anything to kill her.

"You didn't do anything to stop her," Izzy said, almost tauntingly. "You didn't visit her in rehab, you didn't do anything."

She wasn't allowed to visit Eloise! She wanted to, she would have if she could, but she wasn't allowed to!