Protectress of Dalidon: Wow. Thanks for reviewing! I hope I've done Trinity some justice as Erica, even if she is a drug addict.
Alocin: Hee heee heee…Smith hallucinations. Actually it was really weird. I had a dream about him this weekend! I think I have to stop watching the Matrix. Nah…
Emerald3: Excellent? (smiles giddily) Thank you! (huggles her).
Cindy: Yes, Trinity is a drug addict. That was just the way I envisioned her. She seemed like the type. It's nothing against Trinity, because I love the character, but she just appeared to be the addict type.
THANKS TO ALL THE REVIEWERS! AND IT WAS NICE TO HEAR FROM PROTECTRESS OF DALIDON, ALOCIN, AND EMERALD3 AGAIN!
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of the Wachowski Brothers, Andy and Larry, and are in no way, shape or form my own. There was no money made off the posting or writing of this story and it was for entertainment purposes only.
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Chapter 3: If You Have to Leave, I Wish That You Would Just Leave
Erica sighed very deeply as she pulled the black tank top over her head. As long as she kept her coat on, she could hide the few wrinkles on it caused by lying in the rumples of her bedding. It couldn't have been in a worse place as the funeral date drew nearer. She now looked half elegant, wearing a borrowed skirt from Linda, the black tank top and the black blouse she had worn to work once. It still smelled like alcohol. Perfect Erica. Show up at your mother's funeral with a blouse that smells like her murderer.
"Shut up." She hissed the voice in her head, and straightened it a little. Erica gave herself brownie points for looking semi-presentable. She had to admit, in those clothes, she could have fooled anyone that she was a good daughter and actually half cared about the woman in the coffin.
Inside, she was screaming at herself, wondering why she had to suffer through her mother's funeral. It was torture for her to even think about the tedious events that would play out. She wouldn't cry. She refused to cry over that bitch, the whore, that thing in the coffin.
She would rather cry over Miranda.
Erica walked down the stairs slowly in her black nylons, not wanting to make runs in them. The thighs already had enough, and were practically splitting anyways. The stairs creaked and cracked under her. Twice she had felt them nearly break under her toes as she climbed them.
The whole house needed a make over. It was far too country. Erica couldn't wait to move in with Jack again. His house was at least liveable. Computer parts everywhere, crap food in the cupboards, no telling you that the music was too loud and that you were a waste of skin. No one shouting obscenities like how her whore of a mother should never have pushed her out.
Erica didn't care anymore. She just wanted the day to be over.
"Come on! Quinn? Erica?" Mrs Porter wasn't expecting an answer. She knew neither of them would reply. She walked around downstairs, getting her purse ready and fixing her dress some more. Erica glanced down from the middle level and looked into Quinn's room.
It was fascinating to see a fourteen year old not crying on the day of her mother's funeral. Erica had seen two people in her High School lose their mothers and have to drop out. Instead, Quinn was sitting in front of her mirror, that same morbid look on her face, as she tried to cover up the injuries she's suffered with dwindling amounts of eye make-up. Her eyes had some misted shadow on them, and her hair was drawn back into a ponytail. The curls were still wet and twisted.
She looked nice though. Her clothes were clean, pressed, and she came off as a prep in the cardigan she was wearing. Erica shook her head.
Miranda, if you ever dress my sister again, so help me…
It was raining. The steady amounts of rain tumbled over Erica's head and traveled down her body. Lord, if there was one thing she loved, it was the rain. It was glorious to feel it tumble on her head, pasting the locks of black hair to her head. She loved the cooling sensation of the summer rain as it tickled her skin and made her head swim like the drugs at home. It was beautiful to have it run over her bare arms.
She felt almost human again.
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Trinity gasped as she awoke, clawing at Morpheus's back with her fingernails, leaving small red marks under where her nails traveled. The cold water from the showers were moving down her sweat covered clothes and over her head. She shivered, her body convulsing as the cold water hit her. She gripped him harder, trying to ward off the freezing drops of water that were moving over her.
It was killing Morpheus of course, as Trinity tried to fight his cruel medicine. The fever wasn't stopping, and he had opted out of this at first, the thought of putting her in the showers more of a punishment then a cure. But the antibiotics weren't working. And Trinity was getting worse.
So he did this. And the clawing on his back subdued as she adjusted to the temperature of the water dripping over her clammy skin. A shiver moved up the soft peaks of her spine as she bent her back and flexed her muscles, moaning as the cold pained her. Every muscle finally dropped and Morpheus supported her as her legs caved out. Her head feel back on her, tasting the water as it dripped into over her cracked lips and into her throat.
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There wasn't anything good about the reception after the funeral. People actually tried to apologize for what happened. Erica just rolled her eyes, preparing to bite the head off the next person who so much as uttered that they were sorry about the bitch who pretended to be her mother. She glanced out the window at the backyard, the clouds blocking out the sun and down on her relative's rope swings that hung from the trees by the bay window. Erica gave a soft smile, walking out the front door to her baby sister, swinging back and forth on the swing set.
They regarded each other with a glance, their blue eyes drifting away, uninterested in one another. Quinn wasn't sulking. She was being her usual Quinn-self, sitting alone while others tried to comfort her. During the mass Erica could practically hear her thoughts, if it were possible. She could hear the dark demons of the young girl's past screaming at the Minister that there was no God, and that her mother was a drunk, and she could have seen the girl leap up at any time and begin chopping the body to pieces. Quinn's hatred was like Erica's. It practically flowed through her veins.
"I'm not going to feel sorry." She finally said, he voice dripping with cold. "Because I don't."
"Good." Erica replied quickly, making Quinn look at her. "Because I wouldn't have you to feel sorry for that bitch."
Quinn gave a small laugh, her small lips curving into a smile temporarily. It faded however, hidden behind her mask of monotonous replied and the hatred burning in her heart. Erica moved to the swing next to her, sitting on it. For a long while they said nothing. They sat, unmoving, watching the people within the house make nonchalant looks at them and try not to seem as if they were staring.
"Why is it that people have eyes?" Quinn asked. Erica turned to her sister, who was looking at the ground with her depressed eyes. "They don't do anything. All they do is stare. They stare at the things we don't understand." She swallowed hard. "At least in a world without them all we'd be able to stare at the darkness." Erica didn't think she had a reply for that. Quinn continued to stare off, watching the other children running around in the backyard on the trampoline.
"People suck." Erica replied silently, knowing it wasn't exactly the answer Quinn was looking for. It was a small comfort, seeing as how her eyes stopped looking so angry and so hurt. The older of the two sighed deeply, the conversation strained.
"I want to wake up." Quinn said, starting to swing back and forth a little higher. Erica watched her, the skirt moving up her thighs and nearly showing her underwear. But Quinn kicked off her shoes, the heavy heels hitting the ground as she continued to go higher and higher.
The swing reached the highest point. Quinn let go of the ropes and dropped from the swing. Erica's eyes widened.
"Quinn!" The fourteen year old hit the wet ground, rolling slightly. The eighteen year old got up from the swing, moving quickly to her sister. The two looked at one another, as the younger of the two looked up into the clouds.
"Are you okay?" Erica asked. Her sister nodded, laying on her back in the wet grass and looking at the sky. A slight drizzle started and moved down them.
"Wake up with me, Erica."
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The front door slammed.
"Quinn!" Miranda called, opening the door as the teenager bolted out of the house with her hair flying. The snow was falling, the moon in the sky. Erica just heard the door slam and turned back to her computer, watching the news reports popping up all over the Internet about the now 'legendary' Trinity. The hacker who hacked the IRS and stole some of the most encrypted files within their system. She could hear Miranda cursing under her breath. She could hear the phone being picked up as she no doubt called half of Quinn's friends.
Erica fought against her conscience. On one hand, there was the connection she felt with her sister. On the other hand, there was the connection she felt to her computer and all the potential buyers lined up for those files from the IRS. She groaned against the family headache she was getting and grabbed her coat out of the closet.
Her monitor flickered and went black. Erica stopped with her coat, looking at the screen a moment, mesmerized by it.
HELLO, TRINITY.
Erica looked at the monitor, trying to press ctrl-alt-del and reset it. The monitor remained, the cryptic green message staring at her. She clicked her mouse a couple of times and the message continued:
THE MATRIX HAS YOU.
She froze, staring at it instead of making it disappear.
TIME TO WAKE UP.
She blinked and her computer rebooted, the message vanishing from her eyes. Erica stood up straight, still looking down at her monitor.
She jumped as the phone rang suddenly. The shrill tone of her cell phone made her heart skip a beat and gasp. Erica caught her breath, looking at the caller display. It was an unknown number. Probably Quinn, she thought hopefully, but then stopped.
She had just got that phone. Miranda had given it to her so they could keep in touch.
Nobody knew her number yet.
Erica pressed SEND cautiously and did not say a word. The voice on the other line was deep, and spoke slowly.
"Hello Trinity." The voice said. Erica said nothing. It can't be the cops. And the IRS have no idea about me yet. "Don't worry. I'm not calling about the missing files from the IRS."
"Who is this?" She demanded. "Where did you get this number?"
"You know who this is." He said mysteriously, his voice deepening. Trinity looked from the computer and looked at the phone for a moment. She sighed deeply.
"Morpheus." She said quietly, a statement rather than a question. The man seemed to inhale.
"Yes." He said to her, looking out the windows into the clear night sky. Wraith glanced over from the driver's seat anxiously, brushing back his blonde hair. "You said you wanted to know what the Matrix is."
Erica looked at the door, her hand on her coat.
"Would you still like to know?" She looked at the floor, then back at her computer.
Quinn's fine, she assured herself. She always comes back.
"Yes." She found herself whispering. Morpheus smiled and Wraith sighed.
"Come on, let's get this done." He said, his lurid Australian accent curving ever word. Morpheus continued.
"Come to the Adam's Street bridge." He commanded, and hung up. Wraith pulled away from the curve nervously, looking through his mirrors and over his shoulders.
"Relax Wraith." Morpheus commanded. The man glanced at him. "We're not in trouble yet."
"Yet." Wraith replied, and held his breath as they turned the corner.
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Erica raced down the stairs.
"Where do you think you're going?" Miranda snapped from the kitchen. Erica grabbed the handle of the front door.
"To find Quinn." She blurted out quickly, a total lie, looking into the kitchen. "Does that surprise you?"
"Get in here." Miranda commanded. Erica shook her head and walked out of the front door. Mrs Porter groaned loudly, looking at the clock on the while.
Within an hour, both of her nieces had stormed off.
Perfect.
Erica took out the keys to her car. Frantically she shoved it into the lock and opened the door, glancing over her shoulder occasionally to see if her bitch of an Aunt would follow her. The woman didn't, to Erica's luck, and the black haired girl got into the car and sped off, nearly getting into an accident. The car honked loudly at her and Erica honked back, cursing to herself. She was about to put her foot on the gas pedal when something hit the trunk of the car.
Quinn caused her sister to slam her foot on the brake. The fourteen year old ran to the passenger door and got inside. Erica didn't ask. She was about to tell the girl to go back inside.
"You can't force me back in there." Quinn said. Erica growled and put the car in park, getting out of the car and coming around to the passenger door. Quinn locked the doors and Erica yanked on the handle.
"Quinn. Open the door!" Quinn crossed her arms and stared through the windshield. "Open the god damn door right now Quinn!" The fourteen year old grabbed the stereo knob and blasted the neighbourhood with Marilyn Manson. Erica threw her hands at the window.
"This is the wrong time to be immature Quinn now OPEN THE DOOR!" Nothing. Not even a flinch. A tear was moving down her cheek and Quinn remained like a stone, unblinking. There was no shred of humanity in her face at all.
"QUINN!" Erica shouted again, yanking on the handle. DAMN HER! DOES SHE NOT GET IT? "QUINN! Open this door right now or so help me…"
"You'll what?!" She screamed, turning off the music and throwing the door into her sister. Erica was thrown off the driveway and almost off her feet. "You'll punch me?" Quinn stood up and pointed an accusing finger at her, sobbing. "You'll hit me? You'll do what, Erica? Go shoot up on some more FUCKING HEROIN!"
"Fuck you Quinn!" Erica got back to her feet. "Stop trying to play mommy! Always taking care of me!"
"At least I try!"
"Try at what? Being the mother you never had?" Quinn was quiet, listening to her sister's cruel words. "Maybe you just can't take it that I got to go out. What? A couple of bruises and you're crying? Try taking your shit on top of Miranda's and then you'll know what it's like to be in pain!"
Erica never saw it coming. Quinn punched her. The bony fist of the petite fourteen year old flew up and struck her across the face, throwing her back and into the hedge separating the property. There was a snap, and at first the eighteen year old though it was her nose until she saw the line moving over Quinn's knuckles that blood was spewing out of. The fourteen year old was rigid, shaking with anger and pain as she clenched her fists and breathed a quivering breath. Erica gripped her face, feeling bruises from Miranda throb and swell.
The sisters couldn't even move. Snow was beginning to fall from the sky and drop itself on them, but both were completely still.
Quinn was shivering, looking at her sister in shock as Erica lifted herself off the snowy ground. She spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground and looked up at Quinn, who looked completely frozen. Her fists were still clenched, and Erica was a little afraid of being hit again.
Instead, her younger sister reach upwards and pulled the eighteen year old into a hug. She had to go on tiptoes, but it was a hug as she buried her face into the older girl's shoulder. Erica could hear Quinn start to cry again, sobbing and moving her fingers over Erica's back. The eighteen year old didn't cry, but moved her hands over Quinn's back and lowered herself down so the smaller girl was flat foot on the ground.
"I'm sorry." Quinn said quietly, hugging her sister tighter.
"I know. I know. Don't worry." Erica said, her cheek throbbing. "I'm sorry too." Quinn sniffled a little and Erica sighed, allowing her to be released. They stood on the driveway, breathing heavily. The fourteen year old wanted a picture of this, her eye make up trickling down her cheeks like some gothic nightmare. She wanted this picture of sadness. But she resisted the urge to take the camera out of her pocket.
"I want you to kill her." Quinn admitted painfully. Erica stared at her as if to ask who they were talking about. "I want you to kill Miranda for me."
Erica gave a small laugh. She felt the snow hit her forehead and dance over Quinn's black curls.
"Believe me. I would."
"But?" Erica couldn't believe Quinn sounded serious on this. Her eyes were running with black make up. Thick inky tears were moving down her cheeks.
"Just get in the car." Erica said finally, moving back to the driver's seat. Quinn wiped away the thick paste from her cheeks, unlocking the doors. The two got into the car and slammed the doors, neither one speaking as Erica put it in drive again.
Something hit the roof of the car heavily.
"What the hell…?" Erica asked, opening her door and getting out. Quinn followed quickly. The first man jumped off the car and landed at the left side of the driveway. A man in a suit approached from the right hand side of the driveway, closing in on the two.
"Trinity, right?" He said, glaring menacingly between the two near identical girls. Quinn's hands were trembling as he finally came to focus on Erica through his sunglasses.
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The The Adam's Street Bridge was used in the classic Matrix. I'm sorry. I couldn't think of anything else. For now, please review and tell me anything that you believe could make the story better!
Cool Tidbits of Info: In The Matrix, during the debugging scene in the car, if you look at the raindrops on the window you'll notice they're tinted green and look like the code. Also, during the Cypher/Smith restaurant scene, Cypher lights an already lit cigar.