(no subject)
Dec. 14th, 2005 06:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
h_hollisterSunrise.
She'd been up all night, dealing with her broken computer and her other broken computer and now they were both fixed. After Holly had been debugged, he'd made himself some anti-virus shield programs, re-tackled her desktop machine and bingo bango baby. No more disturbing images of Ted getting killed, thank god.
She wasn't sure exactly how this happened, but as the orange-yellow morning sun peeked in through the cracks in the blinds, her journal program was open and she was typing.
Thunder.
Never again. I promise. I swear. I'm sorry. I'm not going to leave you, not for anybody. I was an idiot. Please, I'm begging you, give me another chance. I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I got so angry. Never again. I can't live like this. You were right. I was completely in the wrong.
Please, Thunder, please, take me back.
I love you.
And before she knew it, she'd pressed the submit button.
The words went up on the screen for the entire multiverse to see and she stared at them, not believing that her hands and mind had put them there.
And about half a minute later, they were gone, as she deleted the entry in a fit of pure panic and rage.
Hoping nobody had seen it.
She turned on her screen saver, which Holly had made for her a while ago: A picture of Kryten's head that bounced against the "walls" of the screen, making amusing faces as it hit. But it didn't really amuse her right now. She stood up and put on her jacket, heading for the kitchen.
Spider was still in his room, sleeping off the drugs. She'd seethed quietly as he'd doped himself up, right in front of her, not seeming to care what a complete idiot he looked like as they kicked in. She'd never liked drugs, or their users. Once, when Djehuty had offered her marijuana, she'd about flipped her lid. She'd spent too much time in the corps watching drugs destroy people's lives to condone them. Too much time breaking down doors and catching people in the act of snorting or shooting or smoking or infusing. Watching some of her fellow officers get stripped of rank and sent to Floor 13. It wasn't about her body being a temple. No, she smoked and drank too much for that.
A flash of vague memory, filtered through a five-year-old's vision... her mom, sitting in the family's living room... a glowing pipe in her face... little Polly Hollister wondering aloud what mommy was doing... and receiving a stinging slap for her curiosity...
She stalked through the house, not bothering to be quiet. Spider wouldn't come out of it for at least another day, possibly even two. Once she got to the kitchen and the lights flipped on by themselves, the maker's faux-soothing voice was asking her what she wanted.
"Coffee. Cream and four sugars. With one shot of Jack Daniels in."
A gurgle and a beep later, she pulled her coffee out of the maker and walked out the back door, into the snow. It had piled up a bit more during the night, and almost everything around was sparkling blue-white in the early morning. Only small bits of dark evergreen or wet earth peeked through, now.
The fresh snow crunching underneath her feet, she wandered out towards where Spider kept his garden in the spring and summer, sipping at her steaming coffee. She stared off into middle distance, watching a new storm roll in, her hands cradled around the warm mug.
Then she glanced down. The angle of the light was just right, the coffee had just enough cream in it, something. But for one moment, she saw her reflection in the liquid... and was greeted by the sight of a bitter, hateful, angry, friendless, loveless woman, barely thirty years old, looking like she was about twice that age.
With a scream of frustration, she chucked the nearly full cup away from her, sending hot coffee splattering into the snow. The mug did not shatter on impact, but just bumped and rolled its way down the hill, where it finally hit a rock or something under the snow. The quiet noise of shattering ceramic... and then all sound died away again. Muffled in that special way that only heavy snowfall can achieve.
The sunrise was blocked by a cloud rolling along.
It started snowing again, lightly.
She went back inside.
She'd been up all night, dealing with her broken computer and her other broken computer and now they were both fixed. After Holly had been debugged, he'd made himself some anti-virus shield programs, re-tackled her desktop machine and bingo bango baby. No more disturbing images of Ted getting killed, thank god.
She wasn't sure exactly how this happened, but as the orange-yellow morning sun peeked in through the cracks in the blinds, her journal program was open and she was typing.
Thunder.
Never again. I promise. I swear. I'm sorry. I'm not going to leave you, not for anybody. I was an idiot. Please, I'm begging you, give me another chance. I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I got so angry. Never again. I can't live like this. You were right. I was completely in the wrong.
Please, Thunder, please, take me back.
I love you.
And before she knew it, she'd pressed the submit button.
The words went up on the screen for the entire multiverse to see and she stared at them, not believing that her hands and mind had put them there.
And about half a minute later, they were gone, as she deleted the entry in a fit of pure panic and rage.
Hoping nobody had seen it.
She turned on her screen saver, which Holly had made for her a while ago: A picture of Kryten's head that bounced against the "walls" of the screen, making amusing faces as it hit. But it didn't really amuse her right now. She stood up and put on her jacket, heading for the kitchen.
Spider was still in his room, sleeping off the drugs. She'd seethed quietly as he'd doped himself up, right in front of her, not seeming to care what a complete idiot he looked like as they kicked in. She'd never liked drugs, or their users. Once, when Djehuty had offered her marijuana, she'd about flipped her lid. She'd spent too much time in the corps watching drugs destroy people's lives to condone them. Too much time breaking down doors and catching people in the act of snorting or shooting or smoking or infusing. Watching some of her fellow officers get stripped of rank and sent to Floor 13. It wasn't about her body being a temple. No, she smoked and drank too much for that.
A flash of vague memory, filtered through a five-year-old's vision... her mom, sitting in the family's living room... a glowing pipe in her face... little Polly Hollister wondering aloud what mommy was doing... and receiving a stinging slap for her curiosity...
She stalked through the house, not bothering to be quiet. Spider wouldn't come out of it for at least another day, possibly even two. Once she got to the kitchen and the lights flipped on by themselves, the maker's faux-soothing voice was asking her what she wanted.
"Coffee. Cream and four sugars. With one shot of Jack Daniels in."
A gurgle and a beep later, she pulled her coffee out of the maker and walked out the back door, into the snow. It had piled up a bit more during the night, and almost everything around was sparkling blue-white in the early morning. Only small bits of dark evergreen or wet earth peeked through, now.
The fresh snow crunching underneath her feet, she wandered out towards where Spider kept his garden in the spring and summer, sipping at her steaming coffee. She stared off into middle distance, watching a new storm roll in, her hands cradled around the warm mug.
Then she glanced down. The angle of the light was just right, the coffee had just enough cream in it, something. But for one moment, she saw her reflection in the liquid... and was greeted by the sight of a bitter, hateful, angry, friendless, loveless woman, barely thirty years old, looking like she was about twice that age.
With a scream of frustration, she chucked the nearly full cup away from her, sending hot coffee splattering into the snow. The mug did not shatter on impact, but just bumped and rolled its way down the hill, where it finally hit a rock or something under the snow. The quiet noise of shattering ceramic... and then all sound died away again. Muffled in that special way that only heavy snowfall can achieve.
The sunrise was blocked by a cloud rolling along.
It started snowing again, lightly.
She went back inside.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 10:18 pm (UTC)