Post by The Hannahverser on Apr 17, 2016 0:29:18 GMT
Her arms folded across her chest as she lifted her chin and read and re-read the sign outside the building. She was uncomfortable standing there. It felt like all eyes were on her. Judging. Asking. Prying. She rubbed the spot on the inside of her arm where the blood had been drawn and winced.
Something about the words she was reading kept reminding her of the last time she killed someone and gotten away scott free.
Like Always.
His name was Niles. Why had she even killed him? Wind whipped at her bitterly and forced her to tighten her folded arms. She went inside the building.
Niles. Niles Penderton. Director. He was doing a commercial. Something low-key, something she couldn’t even remember why it attracted her to him. He was… 28…? No. 3…0?? Funny the details didn’t seem so important then.
She’d tortured that man.
She hadn’t asked his hobbies, or his favorite food; his favorite color, or his birthday. Nothing. Just sadism and his eventual death. She could list all the things she’d done to him, though. A bat for blunt force trauma when her fists didn’t seem to be scaring him enough. Pruning shears for his fingers. A hacksaw for his shoulder. And then the noose, and the tree. Funny how satisfying it was at the time, and now...? Not so much.
Why did she do it?
Oh.. Right. Cause it’d happened to her. Such a cruel fucking world you live in when the only response you have is to visit the anger meted out on you onto another completely innocent person. This was the kind of world she shared with those she hated, not the kind of world she’d want to share with someone she legitimately gave a fuck about, she thought as she took her clip board from front reception and sat down alone in a seat apart from the other occupants of the waiting room. She scratched her chin, and shifted in her seat.
She’d killed that man. She’d killed him and gotten away with it. Scott Free. She didn’t get to know that he was engaged to be married to a woman, and when she met that woman later whilst behind bars, she’d completely ignored that woman’s name. She'd pretended at sorrow, and guilt all the while she laughed and reveled in it. Scott free. She looked down over the questions on the clipboard document and thought of Sam.
A fucking Carny? Are you kidding?
She blinked and was back in the doctor’s office yesterday.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “So… you say you were attacked by a monkey?”
UNREAL: “Capuchin, I think. You never can tell anymore.”
DOCTOR FOSTER: “And where was this?”
UNREAL: “In a Tunnel of Love at an Amusement Park.”
Doctor Foster’s eyebrows raised as he looked over her chart.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Okay. Then, yeah, we should probably give you a rabies shot. Now, I don’t have your medical records—“
UNREAL: “No. You wouldn’t. I—uh… those were badly burned. Damn tragedy that.”
Doctor Foster eyed her sidelong.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Was that in a tunnel of love as well?”
Unreal shifted. This whole thing wasn’t quite what she’d had planned out. Normally things just had this nice and neat way of working out. Fate? Luck? She didn’t have any quick and easy answers this time though. She blinked at him.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “You don’t have insurance, do you?”
UNREAL: “Uhhh… I… I can pay. Out of pocket.”
The doctor’s eyebrows raised again.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “What do you do for a living, Ms. Sevigny?”
Her eyes searched the room for a sign, or plaque or something that could bail her out.
UNREAL: “I… am… independently wealthy.”
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Mmm. I see. Well. We’re going to have to run a few blood tests if that’s all right with you?”
UNREAL: “Uh, well, see, the thing about that is—“
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Ms. Sevigny, I can’t really give you an option. With this case involving a strange animal that we don’t know much about we should probably run a few tests to be certain we’re treating the right thing. It won’t take longer than an hour.”
Her fingers traced her lips as she looked down at the clipboard, back in the waiting room of this new clinic today, and eyed the words like they were in some other language. Name. Date of Birth. All easy information for the other women in the room who were diligently filling out this document alongside her.
For her? She’d changed this shit so often could she even remember what was real and wasn’t? Hell, she’d changed her own face so no one would recognize her, who the hell was she? She thought of Sam.
UNREAL: “What do I tell him.”
She muttered to herself and sat back in her chair and bit her lip. A tear threatened her lower lid eyeliner.
UNREAL: “I won’t ever tell him. He can’t know. Never.”
She swallowed hard and looked back down at the paperwork, and felt herself reliving that impromptu doctor’s appointment yesterday that had led her here today.
Doctor Foster walked back into the sterile room with his folder and eyed her with ominously serious eyes.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Ms. Sevigny, may I call you Kat?”
UNREAL: “Honestly, I’d rather you not call me anything right now. Can I get my damn rabies shot so I can be on my way to the hardware store. I’ve got monkey traps to build.”
She shuddered whimsically at the thought of that monkey. Doctor Foster wasn’t impressed as he pulled up a rolling stool and sat down in front of her.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “I have to ask you some personal questions. I understand your discomfort, but it’s important we’re all on the same page. When’s the last time you had your period?”
Unreal frowned at him.
UNREAL: “Why the hell do you do need to know that? It’s a monkey bite. I didn’t have sex with the damned thing.”
Doctor Foster shifted in his own seat.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Have you been sexually active?”
UNREAL: “I don’t get it. Why is this important? I didn’t have sex with a damned monkey, so—“
She caught herself and awkwardly thought of Sam. Last week. He’d live tweeted it. That’s what set her off and brought about a bomb scare that fizzled into nothing. She slipped hair behind her ear and felt her heart beating a little faster.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Ms. Sevigny, it’s about your blood test. We test for everything, including something called HCG. Do you know what that is?"
She shook her head uncomfortably. Her heart knew. Her head hadn't caught up yet.
DOCTOR FOSTER: "Now, maybe it’s a false positive. But, I don’t know any other way to break the news to you that you’re—”
She blinked the tear away in the clinic waiting room and found herself staring into dead space.
UNREAL: “A fucking carny… And me…? I’m a fuck-up.”
That tear had brought reinforcements, and the next one fell without her able to prevent it. It dropped onto the clinic’s philosophy of care, almost ironically onto the line:
…deciding to terminate a pregnancy requires courage and is a decision worthy of respect…
She sat back and stared at it stunned. Niles Penderton… 28… or… 30… or he may as well been every age and she’d slaughtered the poor fool and gotten away with it. She’d aborted his life, aborted his marriage before it had ever happened, and here she was again.
The information on the checklist felt daunting and she kept thinking of Sam Xayachack. What was her biggest mistake, she wondered. Thinking she could sneak into P.A.W. without anyone noticing, or thinking she could manipulate him into doing her bidding and not catch a bit of blow back? He and Munin were probably figuring out what to do with her right now.
UNREAL: “Fine mess you’ve found yourself in this time, Kitty-Kat.”
She blinked. A headache crested around her temples. Was she the type of woman that should be raising a child in a world with people like HER in it to try blow everything to smithereens, to ruin the existence of people she barely even knew, to make one hell of a bad day for a lot of people. She thought of how she’d been so ready to end Sam’s dream of running a real bona fide wrestling promotion in a heartbeat. What did he mean to her, after all other than a means to an end?
UNREAL: “Sam…”
She folded her arms and looked forlorn at the other women in the waiting room awaiting their consultations, or perhaps their finalizing appointment.
UNREAL: “There’s no damn way my baby’s dad is gonna be a pothead.”
And then she thought of that bomb that she had planted in a fit, of what most might call, a gross overreaction. She thought of every stupid decision she’d made up to this moment, and wondered which was worse… a pothead for a father or the world’s worst human being, beaten in unarmed combat by a Helper Monkey, about to end another life before it could even open it’s eyes to the tragedy of the world around her.
Unreal was certain it’d be a her.
Right?
Blue eyes. Just like her momma. Little Unreal would laugh as she grew up, like her mom used to before the world showed her how mean it could get. And, maybe, she could teach little Unreal her first triangle choke, or suplex. Sam could show her how to roll a joint, or… book a… wrestling… card, or...
Her shoulders slumped.
UNREAL: “What the fuck do I do?”
Her eyes traced the other women with instant judgements as to their mental, financial, and physical well-being and found herself comparing and finding all the ways in which she came up short. If these women couldn’t hack it, how could she? And Sam? What would he think when/if she told him? If he wasn’t all ready to ring her neck for all she’d already done, what would he say about this?
UNREAL: “He can’t know.”
She shook her head, agreeing with herself.
UNREAL: “Right?”
But she wasn’t in agreement. She looked down at the words she’d dropped tears on and swallowed hard.
…pregnancy requires courage…
UNREAL: “This isn’t very courageous.”
A stinging indictment. Sam hadn’t even known about the bomb. But Munin would find out, and would track Sam down first. Sam would take all the heat. And Unreal’d find a way to dance around it. Scot Free. Like always.
Niles Penderton goes into the dirt overlooked by a weeping, distraught fiance who will never see justice on her never-to-be husband brought to bear.
Scot Free. Like Always.
Gritted teeth. White knuckles. Unreal set the clipboard down beside her with resolve. Stood up, folded her arms and walked out that door in the direction of Sam Xayachack. It appeared there were more than a few conversations that needed to happen. No more Scott Free.
She said goodbye to ‘like always’.
Something about the words she was reading kept reminding her of the last time she killed someone and gotten away scott free.
Like Always.
His name was Niles. Why had she even killed him? Wind whipped at her bitterly and forced her to tighten her folded arms. She went inside the building.
Niles. Niles Penderton. Director. He was doing a commercial. Something low-key, something she couldn’t even remember why it attracted her to him. He was… 28…? No. 3…0?? Funny the details didn’t seem so important then.
She’d tortured that man.
She hadn’t asked his hobbies, or his favorite food; his favorite color, or his birthday. Nothing. Just sadism and his eventual death. She could list all the things she’d done to him, though. A bat for blunt force trauma when her fists didn’t seem to be scaring him enough. Pruning shears for his fingers. A hacksaw for his shoulder. And then the noose, and the tree. Funny how satisfying it was at the time, and now...? Not so much.
Why did she do it?
Oh.. Right. Cause it’d happened to her. Such a cruel fucking world you live in when the only response you have is to visit the anger meted out on you onto another completely innocent person. This was the kind of world she shared with those she hated, not the kind of world she’d want to share with someone she legitimately gave a fuck about, she thought as she took her clip board from front reception and sat down alone in a seat apart from the other occupants of the waiting room. She scratched her chin, and shifted in her seat.
She’d killed that man. She’d killed him and gotten away with it. Scott Free. She didn’t get to know that he was engaged to be married to a woman, and when she met that woman later whilst behind bars, she’d completely ignored that woman’s name. She'd pretended at sorrow, and guilt all the while she laughed and reveled in it. Scott free. She looked down over the questions on the clipboard document and thought of Sam.
A fucking Carny? Are you kidding?
She blinked and was back in the doctor’s office yesterday.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “So… you say you were attacked by a monkey?”
UNREAL: “Capuchin, I think. You never can tell anymore.”
DOCTOR FOSTER: “And where was this?”
UNREAL: “In a Tunnel of Love at an Amusement Park.”
Doctor Foster’s eyebrows raised as he looked over her chart.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Okay. Then, yeah, we should probably give you a rabies shot. Now, I don’t have your medical records—“
UNREAL: “No. You wouldn’t. I—uh… those were badly burned. Damn tragedy that.”
Doctor Foster eyed her sidelong.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Was that in a tunnel of love as well?”
Unreal shifted. This whole thing wasn’t quite what she’d had planned out. Normally things just had this nice and neat way of working out. Fate? Luck? She didn’t have any quick and easy answers this time though. She blinked at him.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “You don’t have insurance, do you?”
UNREAL: “Uhhh… I… I can pay. Out of pocket.”
The doctor’s eyebrows raised again.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “What do you do for a living, Ms. Sevigny?”
Her eyes searched the room for a sign, or plaque or something that could bail her out.
UNREAL: “I… am… independently wealthy.”
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Mmm. I see. Well. We’re going to have to run a few blood tests if that’s all right with you?”
UNREAL: “Uh, well, see, the thing about that is—“
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Ms. Sevigny, I can’t really give you an option. With this case involving a strange animal that we don’t know much about we should probably run a few tests to be certain we’re treating the right thing. It won’t take longer than an hour.”
Her fingers traced her lips as she looked down at the clipboard, back in the waiting room of this new clinic today, and eyed the words like they were in some other language. Name. Date of Birth. All easy information for the other women in the room who were diligently filling out this document alongside her.
For her? She’d changed this shit so often could she even remember what was real and wasn’t? Hell, she’d changed her own face so no one would recognize her, who the hell was she? She thought of Sam.
UNREAL: “What do I tell him.”
She muttered to herself and sat back in her chair and bit her lip. A tear threatened her lower lid eyeliner.
UNREAL: “I won’t ever tell him. He can’t know. Never.”
She swallowed hard and looked back down at the paperwork, and felt herself reliving that impromptu doctor’s appointment yesterday that had led her here today.
Doctor Foster walked back into the sterile room with his folder and eyed her with ominously serious eyes.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Ms. Sevigny, may I call you Kat?”
UNREAL: “Honestly, I’d rather you not call me anything right now. Can I get my damn rabies shot so I can be on my way to the hardware store. I’ve got monkey traps to build.”
She shuddered whimsically at the thought of that monkey. Doctor Foster wasn’t impressed as he pulled up a rolling stool and sat down in front of her.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “I have to ask you some personal questions. I understand your discomfort, but it’s important we’re all on the same page. When’s the last time you had your period?”
Unreal frowned at him.
UNREAL: “Why the hell do you do need to know that? It’s a monkey bite. I didn’t have sex with the damned thing.”
Doctor Foster shifted in his own seat.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Have you been sexually active?”
UNREAL: “I don’t get it. Why is this important? I didn’t have sex with a damned monkey, so—“
She caught herself and awkwardly thought of Sam. Last week. He’d live tweeted it. That’s what set her off and brought about a bomb scare that fizzled into nothing. She slipped hair behind her ear and felt her heart beating a little faster.
DOCTOR FOSTER: “Ms. Sevigny, it’s about your blood test. We test for everything, including something called HCG. Do you know what that is?"
She shook her head uncomfortably. Her heart knew. Her head hadn't caught up yet.
DOCTOR FOSTER: "Now, maybe it’s a false positive. But, I don’t know any other way to break the news to you that you’re—”
She blinked the tear away in the clinic waiting room and found herself staring into dead space.
UNREAL: “A fucking carny… And me…? I’m a fuck-up.”
That tear had brought reinforcements, and the next one fell without her able to prevent it. It dropped onto the clinic’s philosophy of care, almost ironically onto the line:
…deciding to terminate a pregnancy requires courage and is a decision worthy of respect…
She sat back and stared at it stunned. Niles Penderton… 28… or… 30… or he may as well been every age and she’d slaughtered the poor fool and gotten away with it. She’d aborted his life, aborted his marriage before it had ever happened, and here she was again.
The information on the checklist felt daunting and she kept thinking of Sam Xayachack. What was her biggest mistake, she wondered. Thinking she could sneak into P.A.W. without anyone noticing, or thinking she could manipulate him into doing her bidding and not catch a bit of blow back? He and Munin were probably figuring out what to do with her right now.
UNREAL: “Fine mess you’ve found yourself in this time, Kitty-Kat.”
She blinked. A headache crested around her temples. Was she the type of woman that should be raising a child in a world with people like HER in it to try blow everything to smithereens, to ruin the existence of people she barely even knew, to make one hell of a bad day for a lot of people. She thought of how she’d been so ready to end Sam’s dream of running a real bona fide wrestling promotion in a heartbeat. What did he mean to her, after all other than a means to an end?
UNREAL: “Sam…”
She folded her arms and looked forlorn at the other women in the waiting room awaiting their consultations, or perhaps their finalizing appointment.
UNREAL: “There’s no damn way my baby’s dad is gonna be a pothead.”
And then she thought of that bomb that she had planted in a fit, of what most might call, a gross overreaction. She thought of every stupid decision she’d made up to this moment, and wondered which was worse… a pothead for a father or the world’s worst human being, beaten in unarmed combat by a Helper Monkey, about to end another life before it could even open it’s eyes to the tragedy of the world around her.
Unreal was certain it’d be a her.
Right?
Blue eyes. Just like her momma. Little Unreal would laugh as she grew up, like her mom used to before the world showed her how mean it could get. And, maybe, she could teach little Unreal her first triangle choke, or suplex. Sam could show her how to roll a joint, or… book a… wrestling… card, or...
Her shoulders slumped.
UNREAL: “What the fuck do I do?”
Her eyes traced the other women with instant judgements as to their mental, financial, and physical well-being and found herself comparing and finding all the ways in which she came up short. If these women couldn’t hack it, how could she? And Sam? What would he think when/if she told him? If he wasn’t all ready to ring her neck for all she’d already done, what would he say about this?
UNREAL: “He can’t know.”
She shook her head, agreeing with herself.
UNREAL: “Right?”
But she wasn’t in agreement. She looked down at the words she’d dropped tears on and swallowed hard.
…pregnancy requires courage…
UNREAL: “This isn’t very courageous.”
A stinging indictment. Sam hadn’t even known about the bomb. But Munin would find out, and would track Sam down first. Sam would take all the heat. And Unreal’d find a way to dance around it. Scot Free. Like always.
Niles Penderton goes into the dirt overlooked by a weeping, distraught fiance who will never see justice on her never-to-be husband brought to bear.
Scot Free. Like Always.
Gritted teeth. White knuckles. Unreal set the clipboard down beside her with resolve. Stood up, folded her arms and walked out that door in the direction of Sam Xayachack. It appeared there were more than a few conversations that needed to happen. No more Scott Free.
She said goodbye to ‘like always’.