(no subject)
Title Bullets
Prompt Evidence
Characters Leah Clearwater, Sam Uley
Rating PG
Summary Leah Clearwater can't sleep.
Word Count 500
Leah hasn’t slept in four days.
It’s not that she’s not tired, because, to be honest, she’s fucking exhausted. It’s just that there are all these damn thoughts always in her brain, shooting around like comets in the sky, or better yet, bullets loosed from gunfire. Every time she closes her eyes, it’s like, boom there they are. A gallery of ammunition just waiting to be fired. She analyzes every single one.
It can’t be true because he said he would love me forever. I’m prettier than her. He said I was beautiful. I trusted him. I loved him back. I gave that fucker my virginity.
No matter how hard she tries to shut those thoughts out, no matter how many times she counts back from five hundred, she always winds up there. She’ll be whispering to herself, “499, 498, 497,” then out of nowhere, “I gave him four years of my life.” Any hope she has of falling asleep is shot down right in front of her by one of those treacherous bullets.
Tonight, she gets as far as 446 when she thinks to herself, He must be torn up. He has to be torn up. Any good person would feel guilty about this, and if I know anything at all about Sam Uley it’s that he is fundamentally a good person. She jumps out of her bed, pulls on her shoes and marches right out of her house. She shivers against the cold of the night, realizing that she neglected a jacket or longer pants in her rush, but continues on her journey.
She knocks loudly on the familiar door, as calmly as she can, but the combination of the cold and her sleep deprivation make the knocks sound like a woodpecker hard at work. Sam opens the door while she is still knocking and Leah almost hits him on the chest.
She opens her eyes and takes a good look at Sam. He looks the same as he did four days ago, but different than the Sam she knows. He’s taller, more muscular. His hair is shorn. He looks, for some odd reason, wiser. But he’s still as beautiful as he ever was. Then she realizes what a mess she looks like. After all, she hasn’t slept in four days, hasn’t brushed her hair or teeth, she’s still wearing the same shirt that she was when he told her the news.
Sam just stares at her blankly, as if nothing worries him or surprises him. “Leah?” he says, but his tone is unfamiliar. He might as well have said, “tree.” Her heart sinks. The evidence is all right there. He’s been sleeping, he’s been eating, he’s been taking care of himself just fine. He’s been living as if nothing went wrong. Sam is still all right and she is still a wreck. Four nights of sleep wasted for a confirmation of something she already knew.
She runs away before he has the chance to say anything else.
Prompt Evidence
Characters Leah Clearwater, Sam Uley
Rating PG
Summary Leah Clearwater can't sleep.
Word Count 500
Leah hasn’t slept in four days.
It’s not that she’s not tired, because, to be honest, she’s fucking exhausted. It’s just that there are all these damn thoughts always in her brain, shooting around like comets in the sky, or better yet, bullets loosed from gunfire. Every time she closes her eyes, it’s like, boom there they are. A gallery of ammunition just waiting to be fired. She analyzes every single one.
It can’t be true because he said he would love me forever. I’m prettier than her. He said I was beautiful. I trusted him. I loved him back. I gave that fucker my virginity.
No matter how hard she tries to shut those thoughts out, no matter how many times she counts back from five hundred, she always winds up there. She’ll be whispering to herself, “499, 498, 497,” then out of nowhere, “I gave him four years of my life.” Any hope she has of falling asleep is shot down right in front of her by one of those treacherous bullets.
Tonight, she gets as far as 446 when she thinks to herself, He must be torn up. He has to be torn up. Any good person would feel guilty about this, and if I know anything at all about Sam Uley it’s that he is fundamentally a good person. She jumps out of her bed, pulls on her shoes and marches right out of her house. She shivers against the cold of the night, realizing that she neglected a jacket or longer pants in her rush, but continues on her journey.
She knocks loudly on the familiar door, as calmly as she can, but the combination of the cold and her sleep deprivation make the knocks sound like a woodpecker hard at work. Sam opens the door while she is still knocking and Leah almost hits him on the chest.
She opens her eyes and takes a good look at Sam. He looks the same as he did four days ago, but different than the Sam she knows. He’s taller, more muscular. His hair is shorn. He looks, for some odd reason, wiser. But he’s still as beautiful as he ever was. Then she realizes what a mess she looks like. After all, she hasn’t slept in four days, hasn’t brushed her hair or teeth, she’s still wearing the same shirt that she was when he told her the news.
Sam just stares at her blankly, as if nothing worries him or surprises him. “Leah?” he says, but his tone is unfamiliar. He might as well have said, “tree.” Her heart sinks. The evidence is all right there. He’s been sleeping, he’s been eating, he’s been taking care of himself just fine. He’s been living as if nothing went wrong. Sam is still all right and she is still a wreck. Four nights of sleep wasted for a confirmation of something she already knew.
She runs away before he has the chance to say anything else.