-x-
.eyes glassy
She wakes up naked. Confused, but only for a moment. Her toes are cold. The blank black patches in her memory start to fill in, slowly (unfortunately, she thinks, without a bitter smirk): ripping the clothes off like peeling away layers of skin and drunken loneliness and tears. Her toes are cold among empty green bottles littered all over the floor.
.and the Garden of Eden
By the time you figure it out, she said or thought or didn't shout as she'd meant to, I may not be here anymore. He gave her a look as if he was surprised (as if, she didn't shout, as if) and sighed, and then she really wasn't there anymore. It was sort of liberating - to get it out, finally. Telling him, maybe I like you. Reaffirming primordial normalcy with a sigh and a look: a man and a woman and their sacred love. She could almost pretend seeing his soft eyes telling her, I forgive you.
.the punisher
It's a necessary routine, before she can step over the threshold: the incredulous look, then faked disinterest giving way to poorly disguised fear and finally, submission. She feels a little like a serial killer going trough a ritual before murdering the victim. Sara kills Sara. Grissom would appreciate her metaphoric death, probably. Only, the good people cease to exist once she steps inside. No more grissoms and nicks and warricks and no more let's act proper. Her mouth is so dry she can barely muster up a whispered
Thank you, Lady Heather.
Thank you, Lady Heather.
Over
and over
and over again.
Thank you. Again
the lash descends with a sharp crack and Thank you, Lady Heather, she chokes out despite the fact that her back and her legs and her buttocks are on fire and it hurts so much she wants to throw up, but Thank you, she says because Lady Heather knows how to set her free.
Even if it's unreal. For a second, she can believe it is.
-x-