Pencils, Dust, and Imperfection

Time was running out and I could almost feel Christian breathing down my neck.

I don't know why I was even considering doing this, but when I'm under pressure, I usually take the impulsive way out, and my impulses usually lead to mistakes which quickly become regrets. I knew that everything I had done to Billie for almost a year would become a scrapbook full of bad memories, decisions, and regrets, and the decision Christian was forcing me to make would be among them.

Gloria, time is not on our side.

I know! I know I should do it, but...

But what? It's not that hard!

It actually is, Christian; I'm killing somebody here!

You're killing him before he kills us. Either us of him will die--it's inevitable and you need to get over it.

I exhaled as I felt my heart race. My impulsive and pockets--full of regrets side knew Christian was right, but my compassionate and logical side knew he was wrong. Both of my sides could agree on one thing though; time was not on our side, so I cracked under the pressure and did what Christian intended.

I looked in all four directions and waited until the coast was clear of all doctors, nurses, and family members. With the bottle of Cynoplorian in my hand, I maneuvered towards a nearby hospital room and walked inside modestly.

The patient was an old woman with graying brown hair and a fair complexion. She was luckily sleeping, so I made my discontent move.

I found her orange pill bottle which contained anti-depressants. I carefully dumped out the Cynoplorian on a nearby table along with the anti-depressants. I put the anti-depressant pill bottle on the edge of the table and tentatively slid the Cynoplorian in the bottle. Afterwords, I did the same with the anti-depressants and the Cynoplorian bottle.

I placed the bottle full of Billie's MPD medication on the old woman's table and quickly walked out of the door.

Good. Now, calmly walk over to the lobby desk; there's a garbage can there. Throw the meds in there, but be subtle. Don't draw attention to yourself because we can't get noticed too much, and be quick.

I obeyed my enemy, and new partner. I tried not to look too distraught even though I was. I was already regretting what I had done, but I Couldn't really take it back or fix it. It was just going to be another one of my over-flowing regrets.

Get back to the exam room.
Hopefully, the doctor hasn't come back yet.

I walked back to the exam room where Billie was supposed to be having his first check-up since starting to take the Cynoplorian. Billie was supposed to be taking two doses a day, but it's been a week and he's only taken one dose since Christian flushed the pills away. I was feeling extreme pressure now because I knew the doctor wold be able to tell Billie hasn't taken the pills, and I needed a good excuse.

Tell him you were having side effects.
Nausea, stomach aches-whatever. Just something that would cause you to not want to take them.

Was nausea one of the side effects?

I don't know. Cynoplorian is experimental, so they don't know all of the possible side-effects yet, so it should be OK.

I nodded, ready to obey. Agreeing with and understanding Christian and his ways was extremely weird, but he was beginning to make sense; There's always a possibility that I've become delusional though, and that was a possibility I was sure I could never rule out.

The doctor came in, looking slightly confused. He was holding Billie's chart as he shut the door behind him and sat down across from me.

"When I took your blood yesterday, I personally ran the tests on it quickly so I could show it to you today instead of having to wait a week to know your progress," he started. He then paused and looked at me questionably. "Are you taking your medication, Billie?"

"Yes," I lied.

What? Why did you become dominant, and why aren't you saying anything about the side-effects?

Oh yeah--I forgot.
Oh well. This is more fun, anyway.

"According to the results of the blood tests, you aren't," the doc informed.

I made a face. "Then why did you even ask?"

He looked at me intently. "Billie, are you yourself right now?"

"Yes," I lied again.

You're screwing everything up, Christian!
He can tell you're not Billie!

The doctor doesn't know squat.
It'll be fine; Armstrong's an easy card to deal, and easy song to play. You're just overreacting, as usual.

"Then tell me what's going on," the doctor persisted. "Are you having side-effects?"

...I was in an exam room with Dr. Gibbs staring at me curiously. I knew I had either been Gloria or Christian, and the normal fright of having a blackout had stricken me, but it wasn't as powerful because there was another fear in my head; I soon remembered vaguely, yet strongly, what it was.

"Billie? What's going on with this? What did you do?"

I just blinked and bluntly, but slowly answered, "I think I killed someone."