This is just an anecdote... very short. Love, JuliaBlu84
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Julia was peering out of a dirty pane of crudely cut glass—a window, to be polite. The sky was a drained, sickly white and she could hear O'brien's words fill her head.
You've always worked for me, you bloody little whore.
She forced herself not to cry as she turned from the picture outside and down to the lavatory. "In more ways than one," she replied to the thought, peering at her reflection. "I won't cry, dammit, I won't." She fiddled with a drawer beneath the sink and found the mascara.
The memories persisted:
"Julia, you will bring me that git Winston Smith."
"What's in it for me?"
O'brien leaned forward, his serious face engraving fear into her heart. He spoke in an overpowering, yet controlled voice, "You are the only one who can do this. You can make him have hope; you can make him believe he has outlived the lies."
"Why? He never hurt anyone."
O'brien's hand struck her like a snake. Tighter and tighter he pressed his hand around her throat, until her brown eyes watered. "He is a thought criminal. You must make him believe there is hope: crush him or I will crush you."
She kept peering at her reflection. "I did what O'brien wanted. I crushed him. I crushed him to save my own neck... Everything's been done now. We're nothing. We don't exist. No one cares for us. I am nothing but broken." She slammed her fist against the mirror. "But if that's true... if we don't matter... then why do you keep coming back into my mind, Winston? Why?"
Her tears were black.
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