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Without demur, Bette smashes the syringe to the floor and steps the needle into half. The syringe shatters around the floor, brown fluid flowing on the carpet, disappear in the cotton material.
“Tina, what happened?”
Bette picks up a larger piece of the broken needle, and use her tongue tastes a small bit of leftover liquid on it.
When the strange sour taste touches her tongue, she immediately spits it out.
“T…” Bette’s tears start to fall.
Tina seems oblivious to Bette’s tears, she looks dumbly at Bette, without saying anything. Although her body is still shaking, she starts to slowly adapt the severe pain, all her energies are using as fighting the ache all over, now she’s fatigue. Tina feels giddy oscillations, she can faint in any second.
“Yes, T?” Bette is still crying.
“Of course, honey, come on, let me take you to bed.”
Bette carries Tina to her bed and lay her down. The blonde snuggled down in bed, curls herself into a ball, Bette tucks the warm blanket on her, and watch the petit figure slowly dozes off.
“Just sleep, honey, everything will be alright.”
“Yes…” Bette sniffs. “You…we will be alright.”
She kissed Tina, and pats her back until her breath matches the rhythm, the blonde soon slumbers in peacefulness.
Bette wipes out her tears, puts on her robes, stands up and starts cleaning up the breaking glass.
She is extremely familiar to the chemical, the liquid she has seen in the crime field over a dozen time. Even it is dilution and not as pure as the original, with only one taste, it’s clear enough for her to identify what it is.
The fluid in the needle, no doubt, is heroin.
And ever and again, Bette’s wandering glance reverts to the frail human body nestling by her side. The uncertain temper, the mercurial temperament, the cold and harsh words, are all making sense now.
Bette rubs her forehead and throws the broken glass away. Looking at the damp carpet, a thought suddenly pops into her head.
I almost let Tina inject the thing that will get her killed.
Bette stares at the sleeping Tina, her face is much softer than before, her breath is steady, making some small stirs by rumbling something in her mouth. She must be dreaming.