The girl your Momma warned you about, Lourdes (notsoshy) wrote in athinblackline, @ 2009-07-20 19:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | deadpool, violet |
Describe Life
Who: Violet OT Deadpool
When: Late afternoon, July 20
Where: Red Block; Violet's temp cell
What: Deadpool comes by to poke his head in and ask about the pirate adventure Violet has almost managed to forget about.
Resilience. No one could say that Violet did not have that. Every day that she managed to get up and keep it moving in spite was a day that showcased how strong she could be. There weren't too many people who managed to feel like they had a cursed touch that weren't insane before they got old. Yet she managed to get up, keep it up. Anole had come to see her almost a week ago now. A time or two, she'd waved at him in the hallway on her way to or from somewhere.
She didn't stop to talk. Sometimes talking was too hard. Her lack of speech was an easy indicator for how damaged she was. The more she hurt, the less she spoke, until she didn't talk at all. At that point, it was all action and none of those actions were generally good.
Her life had been disrupted again when everything she'd managed to accumulate on the island was suddenly gone. But that wasn't what hurt her the most, what hurt her the most were those she would never see again. She was never going to get to apologize. Never get to explain. Never get to make up. Never was a mighty long time. Eternity was even longer, in her personal opinion, but never was a pretty damn long time.
Her wardrobe, perhaps the single most important thing to her, had been decimated. There were other things she had lost as well, but nothing was as important as her collection of clothing. Call it what it was, an addiction, Violet loved her clothing. So now, she was once again pulling herself back together. Anything to get out of the damn prison get ups they thought were okay for people to wear. No one should ever be forced to wear a jumpsuit unless they were mechanics or the damn things were skin tight like cat woman (those were only to be allowed on good looking girls). Therefore, these things should never have been introduced into the prison population at all.
Today was a jeans and a t-shirt day, they didn't fit perfectly, but they weren't baggy as could be, so they passed the basics for her. Now she was sitting with her back to the edge of her bed, a cigarette lit between her fingers though she hadn't really been smoking it. It was just a habit to help calm her nerves so she could close her eyes. Violet had found out after Anole left what the danger was of sleeping without some kind of sedative, in her case, nicotine. Her dreams all seemed to include her being buried alive, with the sound of water dripping in her hair, except when she finally managed to wriggle enough to touch it, she found it was blood and the blood was filling up the space where she was.
It was enough to wake her, terror coating her skin with sweat. Part of her wondered if the person in the cell next to her was effected by it. Most of her didn't want to know. So now it was close to afternoon, working its way toward evening, and she was sitting on the floor, partially dozing. Eyes almost fully closed.