memory;
The weight of the drugs hung onto her mind with sharp claws that hurt. It was a wonder how she was even able to return to her hotel room without tripping and knocking herself out in a ditch. Her luck had been just that great tonight. Not even a moment after she arrived in her hotel room did she stumble and fall to her knees. Her mind was a wreck and tears rolled down her cheeks, soaking her eye patch. Her legs and arms felt heavy and boneless, still drugged, she thought.
Stumbling to the bathroom she dragged the phone from its spot next to the bed as far as she could with her. Call Gramps... She had to. Lavi didn't bother turning on the light in the bathroom already aware of the disarray her clothes were in, her ripped pants and shirt and the cold, disgusting wetness between her thighs.
Breathe, breathe. What had happened... It was just her body, she would recover. She would heal. It was only temporary and these things... were not important to the next Bookman.
Yet despite these thoughts she continued to sob, body unresponsive to her mind's desperate pleas to control itself.
--
Bent over a toilet on a shaking train that wouldn't meet its next stop until tomorrow made her hate life and curse it with every colorful word she could remember. Gramps knew better when she had run out of the compartment with a pale face, but Lavi didn't want to bring it up yet. Maybe it was denial; telling herself this changed nothing about her future.
Those eggs tasted horrible a second time around.
--
Sometimes she kept the lights off in her room all day, even as she dressed for the night. Gramps never questioned it, when he already knew the answers to why she did these things and for what purpose. He even knew if she herself didn’t know and she was never curious enough to ask what he thought of it. She was finding herself less and less curious these days. How much weight had she gained today? What tasted horrible and tasted great this time? Which pants were becoming harder to fit into and what shirt would hide the small bulge growing from her midsection the best?
Today she had the lights on, just one- a small lamp off in the corner. It danced shadows around her figure as she stared into the mirror bare as the day she was born. Her breasts were becoming swollen just enough to take notice and her hips were much fuller than they had been three months ago. Arms crossed under her chest she stared and stared at what she was becoming and what she would become in six months. As she stared she cursed, teeth grinding in leashed angry. The fire in her soul burned at her, begging to be set free and cause mayhem. She hated this child- this whatever it was, whatever a bastard’s child could be. She hated it so much for ruining her life. How dare it show up- what were the odds of being knocked up after one round of push and pray? Looking at her prospects death was becoming fancy to her.
Nails dug into her stomach and she wanted to continue to dig until she reached what had stopped her from moving on and forgetting this horror. Yet instead she only dug hard enough to draw red lines across her skin. Lavi fell to her knees and covered her face with two hands, growing ill at the woman in the mirror.
Stumbling to the bathroom she dragged the phone from its spot next to the bed as far as she could with her. Call Gramps... She had to. Lavi didn't bother turning on the light in the bathroom already aware of the disarray her clothes were in, her ripped pants and shirt and the cold, disgusting wetness between her thighs.
Breathe, breathe. What had happened... It was just her body, she would recover. She would heal. It was only temporary and these things... were not important to the next Bookman.
Yet despite these thoughts she continued to sob, body unresponsive to her mind's desperate pleas to control itself.
--
Bent over a toilet on a shaking train that wouldn't meet its next stop until tomorrow made her hate life and curse it with every colorful word she could remember. Gramps knew better when she had run out of the compartment with a pale face, but Lavi didn't want to bring it up yet. Maybe it was denial; telling herself this changed nothing about her future.
Those eggs tasted horrible a second time around.
--
Sometimes she kept the lights off in her room all day, even as she dressed for the night. Gramps never questioned it, when he already knew the answers to why she did these things and for what purpose. He even knew if she herself didn’t know and she was never curious enough to ask what he thought of it. She was finding herself less and less curious these days. How much weight had she gained today? What tasted horrible and tasted great this time? Which pants were becoming harder to fit into and what shirt would hide the small bulge growing from her midsection the best?
Today she had the lights on, just one- a small lamp off in the corner. It danced shadows around her figure as she stared into the mirror bare as the day she was born. Her breasts were becoming swollen just enough to take notice and her hips were much fuller than they had been three months ago. Arms crossed under her chest she stared and stared at what she was becoming and what she would become in six months. As she stared she cursed, teeth grinding in leashed angry. The fire in her soul burned at her, begging to be set free and cause mayhem. She hated this child- this whatever it was, whatever a bastard’s child could be. She hated it so much for ruining her life. How dare it show up- what were the odds of being knocked up after one round of push and pray? Looking at her prospects death was becoming fancy to her.
Nails dug into her stomach and she wanted to continue to dig until she reached what had stopped her from moving on and forgetting this horror. Yet instead she only dug hard enough to draw red lines across her skin. Lavi fell to her knees and covered her face with two hands, growing ill at the woman in the mirror.