InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I got hit by a bus!"

Zach Kitano (coalintodiamond) wrote in nosuchtimes,
@ 2008-03-31 19:11:00

Entry tags:

katrina eriksen, zach kitano

The History of Zach and Katrina: Part 1
Who: Zach and Katrina
Where: The School
When: Sunday, January 28, 2007. Night.
What: Zach arrives at the new school and bites off more than he can chew.

Zach wondered if it could possibly be anymore quiet than it was right now.

Given that it was a school, he expected noise and rampant teenagers such as himself to be disturbing the peace, regardless of how late it may have been. Okay, maybe not all out warfare, but he still expected some kind of sign that others had been sneaking in after being out past curfew, probably doing things that were likely illegal under the jurisdiction of this area. He almost hoped for the sight of some students in the shadows of the common room below, stumbling around as drunken giggles echoed upwards. The utter silence was oppressing, and it nibbled unbearably at the back of his mind.

Anything aside from the barren silence would have been enough to tell himself again that this place was normal, not a boarding school from hell.

Sitting midway up the steps, he glanced through the rungs on the banister. As it was, there was no such sign or deliverance to ease his mind. Zach chewed on the inside of his lip, his gaze relapsing back to the notepad in his hands atop his legs. He continued to sketch with what little light he had: the lines on the paper were coming together to form a human figure. Pencil lead scratched along the paper, leaving thick, wispy trails of dark gray graphite hair.

He didn’t consider himself an artist, though he liked to draw. It was more of hobby for him. He did it whenever the urge struck, never planning anything that ever came out. His sister had tried to talk him into going off to an art institute somewhere and becoming a professional. He had listened to her suggestions, but inwardly the idea made him cringe. People telling him how he should draw and grading him on their narrow idea of what they believed was art was not something he wanted to endure if he could help it. Taking classes for something he already knew how to do seemed like a complete waste of time. When it came to schooling, he wanted to learn practical things — things that would get him a real job in the real world.

Pencil stilling, he gazed at the figure forming on the cream-color paper. He wondered: would this school, this institute, or whatever it was . . .

. . . would it be able to do that for him?

Sighing deeply, he ran his hand through his hair and wondered how he had gotten into this mess. He should’ve asked more questions before getting on the plane. He should’ve thought more about what this place offered instead of thinking so long on people like you people like you people like you. Now that he was here, it felt too late to leave.

He wondered, quite bitterly, if there really was anyone “just like him” here.

His cynical mind told him the answer immediately: no.

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bloodlusting
2008-03-31 11:26 pm UTC (link)

Katrina felt like she was going to die. Actually, she felt that dying would be more comfortable than heroin withdrawal. She had cold sweats, her body ached as though she'd run miles, she was nauseous for the first time in years, and of course, the nonstop itch in her very blood. Once she got over this she was going to kill Kat for taking her stash, that was for sure.

She had paced her room for hours, trying to keep her head on, but all that had done was make her more agitated. She'd smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in the last few hours, filling her room with the smoke and scent, but that was all the cigarettes had done. They couldn't get rid of the cold sweats and aches that overtook her body as the last of the heroin left her system. When she tried to do the simplest of things, like using the computer, her hands shook uncontrollably and she had to stop.

After lying in her bed for half an hour, Katrina had to get up again, restless. She desperately wanted to go outside, and find someone, anyone to drink and take her fill from. But no, this was the night of the damn full moon, and all the furry kiddies were out running around while she was stuck here, going slowly insane. Hell, she probably couldn't even go outside her house because the weres would be inside due to the damn blizzard.

Out of sheer frustration, Katrina punched one of her bedroom walls. It didn't do anything to get rid of her withdrawal symptoms, nor did it satisfy her need to feed, but for some reason the pain in her hand made her feel slightly better. With a sigh she stood and looked around her room. There was nothing to do here, and with that thought she stood and made her way out of her room, attempting to control her shakes as she did.

The commons room seemed empty when she found it. She collapsed into one of the sofas, one hand behind her head as she stared at the ceiling. This wasn't much more interesting than her bedroom, and she was starting to wonder why she'd come down. She considered heading back up, but for some reason she felt like her body had turned to lead, and moving was by far more difficult than it should have been.

With a great deal of effort, Katrina pushed herself into a sitting position on the couch. She pulled out a half-empty pack of cigarettes out of her hoodie pocket, and a lighter out of her jeans. She glanced around again, but this time she caught sight of a dark-haired young man she'd never seen before. She was slightly confused, but shrugged it off.

It didn't seem like the best idea to interrupt him, but she figured she'd be polite and ask him before she lit up. "Hey. You mind if I smoke?" she asked as she held up the pack in his direction, her voice sounding like a shout in the quiet of the commons room.

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coalintodiamond
2008-03-31 11:30 pm UTC (link)

The sound of someone else entering the commons room didn’t escape Zach. Hand taking the pencil between his fingers and twisting it around, he glanced up out of curiosity to see who was coming.

He hadn’t met anyone from his dormitory yet. Hell, he didn’t even know any of their names. No one had told him much of anything, which was probably the fault of keeping quiet and not asking any questions. They must have assumed he knew the basics of this place. Maybe they thought his parents had told him or the scout had informed him. His parents really outdid themselves this time. Zach was as much in the dark as always.

In the low light of the commons room, his eyes caught sight of young woman who looked about his age. Her hair looked like fire in this light, and so did her features. She plopped onto one of the sofas, looking bored but jittery. Agitation. He knew it when he saw it. She looked like she was either sick — her skin was so pale — or seriously upset. Courtesy told him not to speak and leave her in peace; besides, it wasn’t like he was much of one to talk to when you were upset or ill. Either way, she didn’t know him.

Zach didn’t think she had seen him, so when her voice suddenly rang out in the silence, it startled him. Not wanting to let that hinder his response time, he answered her question without hesitation.

“No, not at all,” he called back. It wasn’t a pastime of his, but smoke didn’t bother him. He had been around enough campfires that he was used to it.