Title: Running
Author: Undead Euro-Trash
Feedback: W_U_L_L_F@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: so not mine
Rating: dunno, don't do ratings... R?
Summary: Something set her on the roads she's taken, here's one of the possibilities...
Spoilers: Whatever
A/N Big thanks to Essene for the beta.
She didn't know where she was running to, or what she would do when she got there. That part didn't really matter. It was just about the running. It was about continuing to move and not stopping. Tears burned her eyes, hurt clawed along her chest and up into her throat as cold fear spread through her stomach.
She had tried to convince herself that things would get better, that things weren't as bad as they seemed. But the flying dishes and erratic bouts of crying and screaming had become a despised routine.
The bruised skin and blind fear stained the rare smiles and even rarer apologies. She lived shadowed in darkness even though the curtains were always pulled back, letting the sunshine in. She flinched at raised hands, at quick gestures seen from the corner of her eye, at casual movements made in friendly conversation. Memories of soft touches that in a moment, could snap into stinging slaps, ran rampant, hovering on the perimeter of each of her speeding thoughts.
She could still hear the hurtful words; each sentence more painful and hateful than the next. They were meant to hurt, but after hearing them for so long, some had lost their bite, some were just angry words strung together with shaking fists. Mentions of her father, how he was a worthless bastard, how she was just like him- -those were the ones that didn't hurt anymore. Couldn't really be upset about someone she didn't remember; all she could think when she heard the curses and felt the glares, was that she was glad she was like her father.
At least she wasn't like her mother.
She had spent most of her life silently defending her mother's actions; that it was just because she was out of cigarettes again, that it was because her medication hadn't come in on time. She had gone through excuse after excuse.
It was because of stress.
It was because they'd have to go without water so they could have the lights...
They were all true, but they were still excuses.
Plates were thrown- -some flew by shattering against the wall, others hit her - -leaving purple marks of blood brought too close to the surface. It was a dance she had done many times before, but this time, as she pleaded and cried, backed into a corner. She remembered those eyes had locked with hers and... they hadn't been familiar.
For the first time, she had been scared of more than just physical pain; she looked up at her mother and saw a stranger. The crazed, wild, bloodshot, brown eyes, the harsh breathing, the way the woman's lips pulled back into a sick mockery of the smile she had once craved to see.
So she bolted. Running out the front door, just running, not caring where her feet took her; not caring where she ended up, not seeing anything, not wanting to.
Faith just needed to run.
~END~
Author: Undead Euro-Trash
Feedback: W_U_L_L_F@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: so not mine
Rating: dunno, don't do ratings... R?
Summary: Something set her on the roads she's taken, here's one of the possibilities...
Spoilers: Whatever
A/N Big thanks to Essene for the beta.
She didn't know where she was running to, or what she would do when she got there. That part didn't really matter. It was just about the running. It was about continuing to move and not stopping. Tears burned her eyes, hurt clawed along her chest and up into her throat as cold fear spread through her stomach.
She had tried to convince herself that things would get better, that things weren't as bad as they seemed. But the flying dishes and erratic bouts of crying and screaming had become a despised routine.
The bruised skin and blind fear stained the rare smiles and even rarer apologies. She lived shadowed in darkness even though the curtains were always pulled back, letting the sunshine in. She flinched at raised hands, at quick gestures seen from the corner of her eye, at casual movements made in friendly conversation. Memories of soft touches that in a moment, could snap into stinging slaps, ran rampant, hovering on the perimeter of each of her speeding thoughts.
She could still hear the hurtful words; each sentence more painful and hateful than the next. They were meant to hurt, but after hearing them for so long, some had lost their bite, some were just angry words strung together with shaking fists. Mentions of her father, how he was a worthless bastard, how she was just like him- -those were the ones that didn't hurt anymore. Couldn't really be upset about someone she didn't remember; all she could think when she heard the curses and felt the glares, was that she was glad she was like her father.
At least she wasn't like her mother.
She had spent most of her life silently defending her mother's actions; that it was just because she was out of cigarettes again, that it was because her medication hadn't come in on time. She had gone through excuse after excuse.
It was because of stress.
It was because they'd have to go without water so they could have the lights...
They were all true, but they were still excuses.
Plates were thrown- -some flew by shattering against the wall, others hit her - -leaving purple marks of blood brought too close to the surface. It was a dance she had done many times before, but this time, as she pleaded and cried, backed into a corner. She remembered those eyes had locked with hers and... they hadn't been familiar.
For the first time, she had been scared of more than just physical pain; she looked up at her mother and saw a stranger. The crazed, wild, bloodshot, brown eyes, the harsh breathing, the way the woman's lips pulled back into a sick mockery of the smile she had once craved to see.
So she bolted. Running out the front door, just running, not caring where her feet took her; not caring where she ended up, not seeing anything, not wanting to.
Faith just needed to run.
~END~
