School is trying to kill me, I swear. Here's a little something while I work on the next chapters of Dollhouse and Roundtable!
Elastic Heart
The music was leaking through the cracks in the ceiling. Discordant drums and electric noise were making it difficult to focus on the work she didn't care about. It would have been a welcome distraction, but the wailing called another unpleasant something to mind.
Kirsty could almost hear the cries and clamors slowing and deepening, cacophonous voices of singers becoming the despairing moans of the damned. She didn't dare close her eyes. She knew the conductor of Hell's music was waiting behind her eyelids, his own instruments glistening at their belt. Even pop music seemed intent on dragging her down to hell.
It was a shame, too, this was a pretty good song.
There were other sounds upstairs as well. Shameless sounds, sex sounds, the sounds she'd imagine Trevor enjoyed recording coming from his lovers.
No, she didn't want to think about Trevor, or him, or Frank, who unfortunately fell into the same category of experiences. She didn't want to think about the pain they'd caused her, and she really didn't want to think of the pain one of them intended to cause her.
Was the song on repeat? The singing started again, and… yes, same song. Kirsty got up from her laptop and went into the kitchen. A tall glass of water sounded nice, if only as an excuse not to be in the same room as that pretty hell-song.
"You did not break me," the singer crooned, and Kirsty finally let herself close her eyes. Mercifully, darkness was all that greeted her. "I'm still fighting for peace…"
That was right, wasn't it? She was still here. She was still herself, alive, mentally sound if incapable of trust. She was not broken, not by Trevor, not by Frank, and not by him.
Idly, Kirsty started mumbling the words. "I've got thick skin, and an elastic heart..."
Even alone, with him nowhere in sight, she could feel a certain smile directed at her. "But your blade might be too sharp…"