Disclaimer: I do not own Ghost Hunt nor any of the characters- I just like to make them do random things for my own amusement.
With that being said, read and review? :3
Rated T for: Because I said so.
"Talking" - 'Thoughts'
Story: Empty Jar
One-Shot
It was an uncomfortable twitch, one reserved for the flies gathering on her skin. A hand slithering threw hair, grabbing a handful and pulling slightly in retaliation to the thoughts gathered in her mind.
She was confused and a bit put out by the events of the day. She had no reason to continue down the path she started- only a slight need kept her from standing up from the stool she sat upon. Concern flashed across her face- an idea forming- then nothing. Eye lids drooping low over brown doe like eyes, blurry from lack of or too much sleep- not being able to confirm either or. She felt the need to rediscover herself, but nothing purged from her center. She was yet again disappointed in her inability to perform such a simple task.
The uncomfortable twitch was back full force, a convulsion, a tick. A loud slap sounding throughout the room, falling on deaf ears. The television in the background sounded sharply, a loud wave length that did not reach her through the constant humming inside her mind. Propped up against the back of the stool, leaning forward to read a few lines from her notebook- back and forth. An itch, arms reaching out and smacking the flies gathered on her forearm- a bitter feeling emerging. She was wishing to be intoxicated by the fumes of alcohol, but between the sneezes and her headache it was never going to happen. She was neither here nor there. She was simply put.
Mai was conflicted. She's been for a long time now. It all started a few years back when Oliver came back from England to restart SPR. She started having these... feelings... of sorts start bombarding her. Thoughts and feelings. She hated them.
'Was it suppose to hurt this much?' Mai sighed placing her hand underneath her chin, propping it up. Slumping further forward, she cursed her feelings.
'Love.' She thought with disgust. She hadn't loved since Oliver viciously rejected her by the lake- 'The day we found Gene.'
Turning towards the Television, Mai glanced at the News headline. 'Nothing interesting happens anymore. It's the same routine every day. Wake up, go to work, come home, eat, sleep.'
'Love is a lot like smoke,' Mai mused. 'You breathe it in and it either helps you or it poisons. Most of the time it harms you, but once in a while you break through the thick smog- clean air and then back in.'
Pushing herself up off the stool she sat upon, Mai wobbled across the living room to plop down on the disease ridden couch she got second (maybe fourth) hand. 'The smoke will make you cry, it will suffocate you, bring you to your knees, choking you. Causes you to rethink your decision of stroking the fire.'
The thick humid air blew through her apartment window above the couch, causing her to wipe a trail of sweat from her forehead. This Summer was worse than the ones before. The heat wave had taken them by surprise. It was the worst they have had in years, or so says the News channel Mai had blaring.
The flies were gathering around her apartment, having tried to seek out a shady cool place to rest. Or on her.
'I hate flies.'
Swatting at one that had landed on her bare arm, Mai puffed out a frustrated breath. She wanted to go swimming, but her friends were all far too busy for her.
'Everyone is too busy for me, these days.'
She felt like a butterfly in a jar. One that was left on the window seal, forgotten in the sun. A butterfly that was not pretty, so was not liked as much. So there was no need to watch her, need her.
'God this heat is killing me.' Turning over onto her belly, Mai pealed her shirt off her wet body. Tossing the article of clothing across the room, Mai again laid and stared at nothing.
'He captured my heart and left goodies inside my jar. Giving me love when he could, always thankful. Always caring. He is my honey, my nectar.'
She always fell in love with the ones who were untouchable. The ones that could never love her back. Mai felt like a fool. A naïve little girl (though 22 years old).
Pulling her legs up against her naked stomach, Mai buried her face, trying to suppress the whimper that broke loose from between her chapped lips. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't, but she was.
She wanted to hug him, be with him. She wanted to smile, laugh with him. She wanted to run her fingers through his fair hair as she softly hummed. She wanted to be the one he loves.
'I want to kiss him.'
Insects in your kiss- insects in your kiss.
Mai felt a sob break free from herself, a loud choking sound vibrating off the white walls of her apartment.
She needed to escape, to run.
Bracing herself on her forearms, she pushed herself up and off her couch. Moving around her small (too small) apartment she collected another shirt and put on her tennis shoes. She needed to talk to someone, anyone. She couldn't stay here.
'Not here... I need him.'
Throwing open her door, Mai slammed the door shut- not caring to lock it up after herself. Throwing herself down the hallway, running down the stairs from her Hell. Escaping from Hell.
Propelling herself through the crowded streets, her hair whipped behind her leaving a brown trail in her wake.
Breathing in the fumes around her- Mai's lungs grasp for oxygen. Nothing seemed to make it better. The longer she breathed, the harder it got. She wanted to forget, to stop. She didn't want to love. 'Not again.' The smoke had coated her insides with toxins that she could not get rid of. Her addiction to him bounds her to the thresh hold of death. The living- death. She tried to pry open her burnt lungs, but nothing... nothing seemed to help. Her headache pulsed, causing her vision to grow dim. The only thing left to do was give in.
And she does.
The ringing in her ears, the spots in her vision, holes forming in her brain and heart. She broke free. It was a bitter-sweet pill to swallow, after all this time. She lost herself. Her addiction- her last resort. Him.
The church doors stood imposing in front of her lithe frame. Her body still shaking from the rigorous run she had just done.
Mai pushed the doors open, the sound of bells and an organ lulling her in to a peaceful state. A false state of security.
There he was, standing. Smiling.
"John." She gasps out, her arms tightly wrapped around her chest, protectively. She needed to do this.
John smiled at Mai, his blue eyes dancing with mirth and genuine happiness at seeing his friend.
"Mai, what brings you here?" He moved forward, his steps echoing throughout the now silent room.
Mai fidgeted, her fingers gripping herself tighter, leaving crescent marks in her skin- no doubt.
"I need to confess."
John blinked, eyes wide. "To confess?" He stopped moving, surprised by the younger girl.
"Yes." Her voice was meek, as she continued to stare at her friend, eyes still rimmed red from crying. "Yes... I need to confess."
John nodded, a small frown appearing at the corners of his mouth. "Please come here, I will get Father-" He was interrupted by the girl.
"No... I mean... can you... uh... I mean... I want to confess to you." Mai fumbled with her words, her heart pounding inside her chest. Her face flustered, a pained expression morphing on her face. "It has to be you."
John worriedly strolled forward, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. "Of course, if that is what you want. Let us move to the confessional booth then." He started to steer her towards the wooden structure, while glancing down at the woman every few seconds. He was worried, he had never seen Mai this depressed.
'No, that's a lie. I have- when Oliver left.'
Sitting down in the booth like room, Mai sat quietly... then she spoke.
"Forgive me Father... for I have sinned."
This will be my first and last confession...
I have fallen in love with a friend, a Priest.
You.
