01-18-2018, 11:56 AM
She was barely conscious, swimming in a fog. Images floated about her, smokey and distant and distorted. She had no energy to reach for them, to pull them to her and experience the moment, to remember. They washed around her, through her, there and gone and back.
Hunts. Faces of kills. Smiles of lovers. Laughter. Sunrises in mountains. Campfires. Dark basements. Fear. Loneliness. Contentment.
One extended a tendril, the one she always tried to avoid, reached out to her, for just a moment, and she was too weak to fight anymore. It touched her and for a moment she was there. Briefly. In a room, handcuffed to a bed, walls of heavy wood paneling glowing in the light of a fireplace. And for that single moment, terror surrounded her, overwhelmed her
Someone is in the room. More than one. Her head is foggy and hurts. She only hears snatches, different voices. Always before, the voices are muffled and difficult to understand. "....a gift...."
"...enjoy..."
"....not food, no..."
"...breed..."
laughter "...need food. Find..."
She opens her eyes and sees a face, distant, distorted. Regan's face. It reflects shadows and browns and orange light. Is that a sad look? A smile? It's like watching it on a screen. Or through glass. Through a window. A window.
She shied away from the memory, felt it clawing at her, demanding her attention...He left me. He gave me to... She refused to finish it. It clawed at the walls she tried to throw up, tried to dodge around them. She ran and ran.
Her eyes fluttered and she felt tears leaking down either side, felt the cold wet slide down to her ears, felt the touch of Tenzin's fingers, the gentle shaking. Not now. Not now. I can't do this. She took a breath, opened her eyes, fighting with everything she had, everything she was- everything she had made herself to be- fought and tried so very hard to shove it down...and maybe it worked.
She caught her breathing, prevented it from escaping as a sob. Cleaned up. Yes. She needed to do something simple. Physical. Clean.
She smiled weakly. "Suppose the drink was a bad idea."
she said in a whisper. She tried to sit up and her head exploded in pain from the pressure. She ignored it.
No. She relished it. Welcomed the distraction, embraced it. Carefully, she got to her knees and leaning on Tenzin, was able to stand, weakly. "Yeah, maybe I could use some help."
She hoped the water was hot. She hoped the alcohol stung. She hoped she needed stitches. She hoped the bits of debris needed scrubbing to clean. She was a mass of bruises, now covering scars she had built up over years.
She wanted to feel pain, right now...it was the only way out.
Edited by Jacinda, Jan 18 2018, 01:19 PM.
Hunts. Faces of kills. Smiles of lovers. Laughter. Sunrises in mountains. Campfires. Dark basements. Fear. Loneliness. Contentment.
One extended a tendril, the one she always tried to avoid, reached out to her, for just a moment, and she was too weak to fight anymore. It touched her and for a moment she was there. Briefly. In a room, handcuffed to a bed, walls of heavy wood paneling glowing in the light of a fireplace. And for that single moment, terror surrounded her, overwhelmed her
Someone is in the room. More than one. Her head is foggy and hurts. She only hears snatches, different voices. Always before, the voices are muffled and difficult to understand. "....a gift...."
"...enjoy..."
"....not food, no..."
"...breed..."
laughter "...need food. Find..."
She opens her eyes and sees a face, distant, distorted. Regan's face. It reflects shadows and browns and orange light. Is that a sad look? A smile? It's like watching it on a screen. Or through glass. Through a window. A window.
She shied away from the memory, felt it clawing at her, demanding her attention...He left me. He gave me to... She refused to finish it. It clawed at the walls she tried to throw up, tried to dodge around them. She ran and ran.
Her eyes fluttered and she felt tears leaking down either side, felt the cold wet slide down to her ears, felt the touch of Tenzin's fingers, the gentle shaking. Not now. Not now. I can't do this. She took a breath, opened her eyes, fighting with everything she had, everything she was- everything she had made herself to be- fought and tried so very hard to shove it down...and maybe it worked.
She caught her breathing, prevented it from escaping as a sob. Cleaned up. Yes. She needed to do something simple. Physical. Clean.
She smiled weakly. "Suppose the drink was a bad idea."
she said in a whisper. She tried to sit up and her head exploded in pain from the pressure. She ignored it.
No. She relished it. Welcomed the distraction, embraced it. Carefully, she got to her knees and leaning on Tenzin, was able to stand, weakly. "Yeah, maybe I could use some help."
She hoped the water was hot. She hoped the alcohol stung. She hoped she needed stitches. She hoped the bits of debris needed scrubbing to clean. She was a mass of bruises, now covering scars she had built up over years.
She wanted to feel pain, right now...it was the only way out.
Edited by Jacinda, Jan 18 2018, 01:19 PM.