The Evil Genius owns 'em, not me. Oh well...
This is a sequel to "Alone in a Crowd", and is told, once again from CJ's POV.
For... um... g You-know-who-you-are, and for you-know-why.
"Study Hall"
by Rebecca A. Anderson
sniggles@claudia-jean.net
April 2001
Okay, okay, so I finally figured out where I was going. To a damn library first, because I knew somewhere back in my head that Mount Pompei didn't really exist, y'know...
It was really Mount Vesuvius. Ah, well, one point to Mr. Moderator, the President there, and another slap on the wrist for poor me.
At least reading has kept me distracted, and not so focused on my thing... my thing that wants to eat my up like a hungry... well, I can't say wolf anymore, not after that whole Total Crackpot Day with Pluie... sheesh. All of my good comparisons just flew out the window like birds escaping from your local Kmart after being shut inside. Sheesh.
No, wait, I've still got the comparisons. I'm not dead in the water yet. As soon as I can't rub two quarters together to get a phone call, I'm sunk, though... Speaking of phones, I haven't called in yet to let them know I'm okay.
So what? It's not like they care...
I fought with the President for two hours before Leo came in to mediate. All about five stupid goddamn days of "vacation".
Vacation without pay, might I add...
Just so I can deal with my demons. And here I am, sitting in a library, somewhere in the middle of New York City, reading about some Italian volcano that erupted when God was a little girl. My demons are trapsing around the edges of my conscious thoughts, niggling just enough to let me know they're there and ready whenever I am.
I have to be a Saint and banish them to Hell. I must be Arthur or Lancelot, fighting the dragon, banishing it forever, or killing it in the process. I have to be Hannibal, crossing the Alps on elephants to trample the Romans...
Hey, what the hell brought that on?
Well, at least I didn't say I wanted to be Julius Caesar, conquering the world, murdering innocents, and then going to Egypt and screwing around with Cleopatra. Now, that would be a weird comparison.
And totally unlike me.
As I shut the book and put it on the page's cart to go back onto the shelves, I wonder why I am the way that I am. Why I always have to be in control of the situation or die inside trying to control it? Why am I glib and sarcastic, when what the situation needs is seriousness and attention?
Why am I even running from the demons anymore?
It's past time I turned around and faced them for the monsters they are -- the monsters that lurk in my dreams, skulk under my bed, just waiting for that vulnerability in my armour...
It's past time that I really take the time to be fallible and emotional.
I haven't cried since... since... Oh, crimeny, I can't even remember the last time I cried. Wait, yes, I can. I cried when we found out Josh was going to be okay. But I didn't do it in front of anyone - I did it in my office. I just laid my head down on the blotter and cried myself to sleep.
I should say that I don't remember the last time I cried in front of someone, let alone strangers. Which is why I'm going back to my hotel now... Almost there, just a few more steps... The elevator is crammed full of people. We're like human sardines in this damn electric can...
My room is dark. Well, yeah, that's because I left the shades pulled when I left earlier. It's quiet. Eerily quiet.
And now it hits me that I'm so used to the noise of the White House that anything less makes me uneasy.
I curl up on the bed, my knees drawn close to my chest, and wait for the demons.
I won't fight fair.
Finis
This is a sequel to "Alone in a Crowd", and is told, once again from CJ's POV.
For... um... g You-know-who-you-are, and for you-know-why.
"Study Hall"
by Rebecca A. Anderson
sniggles@claudia-jean.net
April 2001
Okay, okay, so I finally figured out where I was going. To a damn library first, because I knew somewhere back in my head that Mount Pompei didn't really exist, y'know...
It was really Mount Vesuvius. Ah, well, one point to Mr. Moderator, the President there, and another slap on the wrist for poor me.
At least reading has kept me distracted, and not so focused on my thing... my thing that wants to eat my up like a hungry... well, I can't say wolf anymore, not after that whole Total Crackpot Day with Pluie... sheesh. All of my good comparisons just flew out the window like birds escaping from your local Kmart after being shut inside. Sheesh.
No, wait, I've still got the comparisons. I'm not dead in the water yet. As soon as I can't rub two quarters together to get a phone call, I'm sunk, though... Speaking of phones, I haven't called in yet to let them know I'm okay.
So what? It's not like they care...
I fought with the President for two hours before Leo came in to mediate. All about five stupid goddamn days of "vacation".
Vacation without pay, might I add...
Just so I can deal with my demons. And here I am, sitting in a library, somewhere in the middle of New York City, reading about some Italian volcano that erupted when God was a little girl. My demons are trapsing around the edges of my conscious thoughts, niggling just enough to let me know they're there and ready whenever I am.
I have to be a Saint and banish them to Hell. I must be Arthur or Lancelot, fighting the dragon, banishing it forever, or killing it in the process. I have to be Hannibal, crossing the Alps on elephants to trample the Romans...
Hey, what the hell brought that on?
Well, at least I didn't say I wanted to be Julius Caesar, conquering the world, murdering innocents, and then going to Egypt and screwing around with Cleopatra. Now, that would be a weird comparison.
And totally unlike me.
As I shut the book and put it on the page's cart to go back onto the shelves, I wonder why I am the way that I am. Why I always have to be in control of the situation or die inside trying to control it? Why am I glib and sarcastic, when what the situation needs is seriousness and attention?
Why am I even running from the demons anymore?
It's past time I turned around and faced them for the monsters they are -- the monsters that lurk in my dreams, skulk under my bed, just waiting for that vulnerability in my armour...
It's past time that I really take the time to be fallible and emotional.
I haven't cried since... since... Oh, crimeny, I can't even remember the last time I cried. Wait, yes, I can. I cried when we found out Josh was going to be okay. But I didn't do it in front of anyone - I did it in my office. I just laid my head down on the blotter and cried myself to sleep.
I should say that I don't remember the last time I cried in front of someone, let alone strangers. Which is why I'm going back to my hotel now... Almost there, just a few more steps... The elevator is crammed full of people. We're like human sardines in this damn electric can...
My room is dark. Well, yeah, that's because I left the shades pulled when I left earlier. It's quiet. Eerily quiet.
And now it hits me that I'm so used to the noise of the White House that anything less makes me uneasy.
I curl up on the bed, my knees drawn close to my chest, and wait for the demons.
I won't fight fair.
Finis