034 x 430 // text // plan your own...

[dignity_misery]

[She trashed the apartment this morning. The anxiety mounted above and beyond what could she could handle, that knot of glass and tar inside of her chest unbearable, the crying inside of her head pulsating too heavily. It's been building there, behind her eyes and deep in her stomach and lungs, for weeks now. She's been counting down to this day, or maybe it's been creeping up to her. Climbing over her, choking her.

The wreckage is inevitable, furniture overturned and porcelain shards scattered across the floor. Her dog is clawing at the bathroom door now, and for some reason that she doesn't understand, she has this to share with the network,]

CAROLENA MARÍANNA MORIR
09/08/1986 — 03/26/2011
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR .

[[ooc; This post is a catchall for Carla's suicide. This is a blanket trigger warning for the entirety of this post and any comments that may follow. She will answer any network comments, but it will be timelined to before her final episode. Action from folks involved in this fiasco are welcome, as well as any initial visitors on Sunday (it takes 24 hours for the dead to wake up.)

By the way, it's her birthday. She's 30 today.]]

Comments

[keepinitsaucy]

[Of all the things Andy is expecting to see -- Carla in a rage, getting more insults flung at him -- this isn't even on the list. This isn't like the crime fighting, he's never seen a body in a state like this before, and all he can do is stare, feeling like time is slowing down.

In the next moment, time speeds back up again and Andy snaps back into the present.]

No. No, no, no, no, Carla..!

[He's at her side, checking for a pulse. If he didn't feel so numb, he'd be crying right now.]

[dignity_misery]

[The thin-strapped shirt she's wearing is stuck to her skin with sweat, and in the neckline hangs a piece of jewelry. Her pulse has already gone through the gamut, first pounding out of her chest, and now it is slowing by increments, body descending into shock as those most vital systems struggling and then fail. She hangs limp where she's been moved by Andy, and her eyelashes flutter slightly, but that's the only reaction she gives.

Her dog has pushed his head under her hand, is making a terrible keening noise that echoes loudly in the tiled bathroom.]

[keepinitsaucy]

[He realizes that with a pulse like that, there's not a whole lot of time and he's got to act quickly. With another quick pat for the dog, trying to show he doesn't mean harm when he scoops up Carla a moment later, he says, voice quavering:]

'Kay, boy. Stay!

[And he's hurrying out the door, lamenting the fact he doesn't have a car and knowing, in this state, he won't make it very far.

So, Carla, you're going to the hospital in style.

Throwing caution to the wind, Andy shifts into the Jersey Devil, cradling Carla in one of his massive clawed hands and vaulting off toward the hospital.]