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Natasha crept down the stairs as slow and as quiet as she could. It had been a whole night since Anatole was caught coming into the courtyard to take her away. Marya had been so angry, and now Natasha was barely allowed to take a sip of water without being heavily supervised. She had not heard from Anatole since, nor had they received any word from Andrey. She was almost certain he was dead somewhere, and even if he was not, there would not be a doubt he would not want to see her. She had refused him, after all.
What a mess she had made of things.
She took a step in the dark and put her hands out instinctively to keep from bumping into anything. Her fingers brushed against cold plaster and she frowned as she tried to discern what it was she was holding. Finally she decided it was the wall, and let it guide her along the corridors. She kept her breathing light as she walked, and made it to the kitchen with no trouble. She pulled open the curtains and sighed as silver moonlight filled the room. She looked out over the snowy landscape and felt a pang at her heart. Once, not long ago, the moon and stars would bring her joy, thinking about how her Andrei would be looking up at the same moon. Now, she could not even call him hers. He was no longer hers, and she was no longer his. She would never belong to anyone.
She turned away from the glittering snow and went about her self-assigned task, searching cupboards and closets until she found her prize. She quickly rushed back to the stairs, more afraid of being caught now than before. She hid the small bottle in the sleeve of her dressing gown and climbed the stairs, skipping the third step as it tended to creak at the most unfortunate times. She made it to the top and slid into her room. She sighed, relaxing, until a snore startled her. Sonya, of course, Sonya was in here, this wouldn’t do.
She stepped back out, closing the door as gently as she could manage so as not to wake her dear cousin, and went instead into the bathroom, turning on the light but keeping the flame dim and small. She reached into her sleeve and pulled out the small bottle, sitting down on the floor and setting the bottle on the edge of the tub. She stared at it, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach.
Before her sat the vial of arsenic she had taken from the kitchen.
It had seemed so simple when she first thought of it. Her life was ruined because of her love for Anatole Kuragin. Was it love? Yes, she decided. She did love him, even if it was a different love than what she felt for Andrey. Andrey was calm and slow and calculating, and he always thought things through before he did them, and he made her feel so loved and young and pretty. But Anatole… he could not have been more different. Anatole seemed to jump into things without thinking, his actions stemmed from emotion rather than logic. And the way he made her feel, the way he treated her… it made her feel beautiful, but in a different way than Andrey. Anatole was passionate. He touched her where it could hardly be called decent, and he made her shiver when he spoke.
And now it all was gone. Both of them had gone from her, and had taken the rest of her days with them. There would be no honor in her future. She would not get married until some man decided he would overlook the darkness of her past in order to have a pretty wife. Everyone would look at her at social events, and they would all whisper behind her back, but no longer out of jealousy. Now it would be disdain. And Marya had been right. Her father… well, she didn’t want to think about that now. She would no longer have to.
Without another thought, Natasha took the bottle and delicately opened the top, peeking into the dark glass. She wasn’t sure how to do this, now. She didn’t want to openly sip from the bottle. Perhaps… yes, she would mix it with water. She set the bottle back down on the floor and got up again, ignoring her pale reflection as she took the pitcher from beside the sink, filling it with enough water to drink. This time she sat on her knees, and dropped a few drops of arsenic into the water.
As she lifted the pitcher to her mouth, she found it hard to breathe. Her chest was heavy, but with what, she wondered? She didn’t want to dwell on these feelings. She wanted to do this. She had no other choice. She took a sharp inhale and started drinking, not taking note of the odor or taste or any of her surroundings until she had drunk the last drop. She set the pitcher down with an air of triumph and sat, waiting for something to happen. Anything. She stared at the empty pitcher and the little vial and her emotions came bubbling up and she began to cry.
Oh god, what had she done? She didn’t want to die. In her head came visions of Andrey, and his little sister Mary, and her father, and her godmother, and Sonya, oh god, Sonya. Natasha stood, still gasping with sobs, and stepped out of the bathroom, away from the poison, which frightened her now. She could hardly bear to look at it. She stumbled back to the bedroom, pushing the door open with much less grace than before, and made her way to Sonya’s bed, falling against it, crying louder for her cousin to wake up.
Sonya turned, pulled out of her deep sleep, and frowned up at Natasha, putting the pieces together in her head before she jumped up out of bed, taking her shoulders and talking to her gently. Natasha could barely hear her over her own thoughts in her head. She held onto her friend and cried to her. She tried to tell her what she had done, but she wasn’t sure Sonya was understanding. Finally, Sonya hushed her by pressing her hand over her mouth, rocking her in a very motherly way. Natasha let herself be soothed. She was tired. Sonya was patient, humming to her and holding her close, rubbing her back gently as Natasha’s sobs turned into sniffles, and finally into shaky, shuddering breaths.
They laid down together and Sonya hugged Natasha once more. “My dearest Natalie… You mustn’t be upset anymore. I will forever love you,” she whispered softly, smiling soothingly. “Forever until the end of your life and mine.”
Natasha’s face crumpled. How could she have done this to her dear Sonya? How selfish was she? “Sonya, my life is to end,” she whispered, so soft she wasn’t sure it could have been heard. But Sonya heard. She always did.
“What do you mean, Tasha? We are both young. All of this will blow over and you will be happy again.”
“No, Sonya.” She was crying again. The tears were tickling her nose as they fell. “I… I poisoned myself. Just now, in the bathroom. All is over for me.”
She could barely bring herself to look at Sonya, but thankfully her cousin was not one to waste time. Barely a minute later, Sonya was pulling herself away, gathering Natasha up into her arms, bringing her to the bathroom. “It will not be over for you, darling, not yet, I refuse to believe it. Come now.”
Sonya kneeled her over a bucket and rubbed her back, and they spent the better part of an hour forcing Natasha to puke as much as she could. Sonya ignored her tears for now, until she decided it was enough, and she called for Marya, for a maid, for anyone, as she brought her cousin back into her arms, holding her close against her chest, wiping her chin and soothing her. Natasha tried to protest rest, but Sonya knew what she was doing, and she dozed off into her warm arms as the house burst into commotion around them.