This was written on a random note of fascination, since I'm frighteningly obsessed with Thirteen. This is based on the beginning of the season five episode 'Lucky Thirteen,' one where the criticalness of Thirteen's downward spiral becomes evident. It's also a little personal, I guess, which is why I identify with Thirteen..
It was another of those nights to revel in the company of yet another pretty girl. That was all they meant to Thirteen, a lineup of pretty faces on a shelf like the most precious of porcelain dolls. Though they were hardly precious; she accumulated them, as a child would collect marbles, none more memorable than the others. Each drunken evening raked in a new wild encounter; it was the pattern Thirteen had adapted to, an instinct to prey.
She focused on the girl in her arms, a petite brunette with a short tangle of hair. Her lips begged insistently for surrender. Thirteen mirrored every touch, every kiss, and every caress. She went through every motion that would ordinarily pass for love in order to feel something, anything, inside. And as the girl pulled out a grooved little white pill, Thirteen swallowed it without a thought; desperate for something to wake her up from the dreamland she walked.
Colors swam in swirls before her, a plethora of fluidness morphing into a color she had no name for. She let go of the body she was imprisoned in and floated above it, unaware of what was happening, of the girl still entangled in her loose limbs. With the pill running harsh in her blood, she was as light as a thrush, feeling the coolness at her fingertips. Thirteen was soaring, the breeze beneath her a blessing. Everything quickened, speeding toward her more rapidly than early morning cars on the freeway. Time ceased, and then, in a split second, the curtain fell.
Thirteen shuddered, finding herself back where she'd started, in her own body with a sleeping girl beside her. She lay there quivering, cold and bare, numb to the arms that held her closer, tighter. The threatening tears coursed down her face, because if she felt this lonely and this empty in someone's arms, what would it take to make her whole again?