SPOILERS: Season 3 & The Body on BtVS; Five by Five and Sanctuary
(possibly) on A:tS
WEAK
((My heart is black and my body is blue))
"Faith!"
Sharp edges. Everything in here has such sharp edges. You wish you had a paintbrush you could dip in water and just blur things up. Blurry things are more easy to deal with somehow than the sharpness. Sharp voice snapping through sharp air breaking it up and making sharp jagged edges.
I stand up defiantly and raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Visitor!"
"Is it April 1st already?"
The officer shrugs. "No joke," she says. "Visitor for ya. Get your butt out there."
I guess it's a small victory that she missed 'cute' out of that sentence.
Do I ever get visitors? Can't remember the last one. It was that long ago. Must be Angel. On his do-good streak again. I'll tell him this time. I'm not his charity case. I'm not something he can use to ease his conscience and tell himself he's done his good deed for the day. I'm a human being.
At least I used to be.
The visitor's identity surprises me. Amazing. What is she doing here? What does she want from me? More guilt? For there to be more she would have had to have got some from me in the first place. Blood from a stone. I'm stone.
I slide into the cold plastic seat and offer her a smile. A malicious smile. God why am I such a bitch? "What a pleasant surprise. You should have warned me you were coming. I would've got this place cleaned up for ya. I know it doesn't meet your high standards. And I'm sorry I couldn't clean myself up either. Prison sure does fuck up your exfoliating routine. So what brings you to these parts? Wanted to see how we live on the other side of the street, huh?"
She stares at me and I wonder what she's going to say. "Hello, Faith."
"Hello? Is that the best you can do? I'm hurt. I know we can't hug under the circumstances, but I'm sendin' a whole load of love through that glass to ya, girlfriend. I'm excited to see you. And I bet you're pleased to see me too, aren't ya?
Everyone's favourite psycho?" I laugh. I'm not sure why. Something to fill the gaps between my words that may sound
light but are angry. "How *do* you fill the days without me?"
She doesn't hold my gaze as I expect her to. Instead she looks down at her hands, her nails. God look at her nails.
Makes you wonder what can be so stressful that she had to chow down on fingernail. Not that I care. "How are you?"
"I'm great. Just dandy. Couldn't be better. Prison life suits me, can't you tell? I'm surprised you didn't comment on how
well I'm looking." Another short laugh. "And I just got this new skill, too. I found out that everything I touch turns to
gold, isn't that something? And as a special reward I get a visitor and a move to these pleasant surroundings. Aren't I
the lucky one? Aren't you just dying of jealousy?"
She's unmoved by the words as I knew she would be. but she surprises me when she speaks. Is that a stutter? a catch?
Is she weakening? Am I weakening her? "It's just words, Faith. I didn't ask for the bluff, the bravado. Tell me. How are
you really?"
How am I really? How does she expect me to be? Of course it's just words. what does she want? A poem written for the
occasion? A cry of anger? I've got anger, all the anger anyone could ever deal with. No guilt. I can't feel that, but
anger is my speciality. "You want to know how I am?" Make it worse than it already is. You always do. "I'll give you
words. You want to know how prison life is? I'll tell you how it is. The lesbian advances. The corrupt police officers. The
nothing. Prison life is dead, did you know that? It kills you. Slowly but surely. I'm dyin' already. No freedom and no
feeling, before long you're just empty. You can't even imagine it. But enough about me." Enough about me? That's not
even half of what I could tell her. Why am I backing out? "What are you doing here really? What do you want from me?"
She nods. "I suppose you have to know."
Have to know what? "Spit it out, girlfriend. I don't have all day."
She looks up at me. Properly this time. and she looks hurt. Damn I can't stand it. Her looking at me like that how is that
fair? "My mom. She's dead."
I want to laugh. "Finally. You get what you deserve."
Why is she looking at me like that? What did she expect? Sympathy? Does she expect me to care?
"What I... Faith?" She can't believe it, can she? She's thinking I must be joking. Why aren't I crying? Why aren't I being
consumed by the grief? "How do I... how does anyone deserve this?"
Doesn't she know? A life for a life. she killed Richard and now Joyce is dead. What do they call it, just desserts? She
sure got hers. And I know I'm evil now. no sympathy. Joyce is dead and fuck it. I don't even care. I had my grief. I've
done the whole lack of parent thing. and now Buffy has to do it. "Life's a bitch, B."
She looks amazed at my coldness. Oh come on, B, get real. "Is that all you can say?"
I could tell her more. How everyone will say "Life goes on" and various cliches. How everyone thinks you'll be over it in a
week, how everyone thinks you forget but you don't forget. Time doesn't heal all wounds - none, in my experience.
How life doesn't possibly go on. You cease to live. You don't live. You don't enjoy stuff. Don't laugh. Stop feeling. You're
numb. Life doesn't go on. And they're not always with you. Maybe it will be different for Buffy, but it's hard to imagine
that Richard is still around considering the way she killed him. I could tell her about that.
"Is that all you can say, Faith?"
I could tell her more.
"Is that all you can say?"
I nod.
I've always been weak.
WEAK
((My heart is black and my body is blue))
"Faith!"
Sharp edges. Everything in here has such sharp edges. You wish you had a paintbrush you could dip in water and just blur things up. Blurry things are more easy to deal with somehow than the sharpness. Sharp voice snapping through sharp air breaking it up and making sharp jagged edges.
I stand up defiantly and raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Visitor!"
"Is it April 1st already?"
The officer shrugs. "No joke," she says. "Visitor for ya. Get your butt out there."
I guess it's a small victory that she missed 'cute' out of that sentence.
Do I ever get visitors? Can't remember the last one. It was that long ago. Must be Angel. On his do-good streak again. I'll tell him this time. I'm not his charity case. I'm not something he can use to ease his conscience and tell himself he's done his good deed for the day. I'm a human being.
At least I used to be.
The visitor's identity surprises me. Amazing. What is she doing here? What does she want from me? More guilt? For there to be more she would have had to have got some from me in the first place. Blood from a stone. I'm stone.
I slide into the cold plastic seat and offer her a smile. A malicious smile. God why am I such a bitch? "What a pleasant surprise. You should have warned me you were coming. I would've got this place cleaned up for ya. I know it doesn't meet your high standards. And I'm sorry I couldn't clean myself up either. Prison sure does fuck up your exfoliating routine. So what brings you to these parts? Wanted to see how we live on the other side of the street, huh?"
She stares at me and I wonder what she's going to say. "Hello, Faith."
"Hello? Is that the best you can do? I'm hurt. I know we can't hug under the circumstances, but I'm sendin' a whole load of love through that glass to ya, girlfriend. I'm excited to see you. And I bet you're pleased to see me too, aren't ya?
Everyone's favourite psycho?" I laugh. I'm not sure why. Something to fill the gaps between my words that may sound
light but are angry. "How *do* you fill the days without me?"
She doesn't hold my gaze as I expect her to. Instead she looks down at her hands, her nails. God look at her nails.
Makes you wonder what can be so stressful that she had to chow down on fingernail. Not that I care. "How are you?"
"I'm great. Just dandy. Couldn't be better. Prison life suits me, can't you tell? I'm surprised you didn't comment on how
well I'm looking." Another short laugh. "And I just got this new skill, too. I found out that everything I touch turns to
gold, isn't that something? And as a special reward I get a visitor and a move to these pleasant surroundings. Aren't I
the lucky one? Aren't you just dying of jealousy?"
She's unmoved by the words as I knew she would be. but she surprises me when she speaks. Is that a stutter? a catch?
Is she weakening? Am I weakening her? "It's just words, Faith. I didn't ask for the bluff, the bravado. Tell me. How are
you really?"
How am I really? How does she expect me to be? Of course it's just words. what does she want? A poem written for the
occasion? A cry of anger? I've got anger, all the anger anyone could ever deal with. No guilt. I can't feel that, but
anger is my speciality. "You want to know how I am?" Make it worse than it already is. You always do. "I'll give you
words. You want to know how prison life is? I'll tell you how it is. The lesbian advances. The corrupt police officers. The
nothing. Prison life is dead, did you know that? It kills you. Slowly but surely. I'm dyin' already. No freedom and no
feeling, before long you're just empty. You can't even imagine it. But enough about me." Enough about me? That's not
even half of what I could tell her. Why am I backing out? "What are you doing here really? What do you want from me?"
She nods. "I suppose you have to know."
Have to know what? "Spit it out, girlfriend. I don't have all day."
She looks up at me. Properly this time. and she looks hurt. Damn I can't stand it. Her looking at me like that how is that
fair? "My mom. She's dead."
I want to laugh. "Finally. You get what you deserve."
Why is she looking at me like that? What did she expect? Sympathy? Does she expect me to care?
"What I... Faith?" She can't believe it, can she? She's thinking I must be joking. Why aren't I crying? Why aren't I being
consumed by the grief? "How do I... how does anyone deserve this?"
Doesn't she know? A life for a life. she killed Richard and now Joyce is dead. What do they call it, just desserts? She
sure got hers. And I know I'm evil now. no sympathy. Joyce is dead and fuck it. I don't even care. I had my grief. I've
done the whole lack of parent thing. and now Buffy has to do it. "Life's a bitch, B."
She looks amazed at my coldness. Oh come on, B, get real. "Is that all you can say?"
I could tell her more. How everyone will say "Life goes on" and various cliches. How everyone thinks you'll be over it in a
week, how everyone thinks you forget but you don't forget. Time doesn't heal all wounds - none, in my experience.
How life doesn't possibly go on. You cease to live. You don't live. You don't enjoy stuff. Don't laugh. Stop feeling. You're
numb. Life doesn't go on. And they're not always with you. Maybe it will be different for Buffy, but it's hard to imagine
that Richard is still around considering the way she killed him. I could tell her about that.
"Is that all you can say, Faith?"
I could tell her more.
"Is that all you can say?"
I nod.
I've always been weak.