→ (signpost) wrote in repose, @ 2019-03-26 15:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | *narrative, holly nicodemo-webster |
[Narrative]
Who: Holly
What: Narrative
Where: Facility
When: Yesterday-Today
Warnings/Rating: N/A
Okay, so there was this thing, right? About nightmares coming true, and sometimes it was almost a relief. The anticipation was the worst thing, or so some people said, and Holly was kinda buying into this belief at present. The cell was nice. I mean, it wasn't some grungy cell you'd imagine from some horror movie or survival game. There weren't rats running around, and there wasn't black metal flaking off to reveal rust and MRSA in equal measure. It was white, the cell, and the bars weren't bars. There was a door, in other words, one with a little window, and the whole place was more doctor's office than prison. Okay, so the pulldown cot was kinda rough looking, but it wasn't uncomfortable, and Holly was pretty sure nothing had bedbugs, and, okay, maybe there was something to that saying about anticipation being the worst thing. He remembered the cars, you know, when he left his room in the morning to come downstairs and take a piss. He'd noticed them, and he'd almost backtracked and gone back upstairs, but it was pre-coffee, and he hadn't moved fast enough. Though, in retrospect, there maybe wasn't a 'fast enough.' The men hadn't, like, tossed him in the backseat or anything. They'd asked him to come with them, and the pressure on his elbow had just been steadying or something, right? Right. They were being helpful, and whatever that prick was he felt at the side of his neck when he sat was also, he was sure, helpful. And, now, he was sitting in his not-cell, thinking about every Twilight Zone episode that this resembled. To Serve Man, that was totally in his head, though he was viewing the episode in a whole new, non-alien related light. Chill. He was trying to remain extremely chill, because he knew panic carried over to Noah. So, chill, and Holly found that, after that initial panic subsided, he could do chill. It was like everything else, right? Like accepting how life changed after mom died, and like accepting ending up in a different Repose, and, now, this. Panic overcome, and he was kinda just zoned as he sat on his cot, shoulders to the wall and wishing he'd been wearing something other than sweats and a white tee when he'd gone down to piss the day before. And they had talked to him. I mean, they being two guys in suits. They'd asked him where he'd been, how he'd disabled the tracking device, and so on. They hit him with those old questions too: Who was he? How had he gotten here? How had he ended up in the woods? They informed him about the remaining time on his tour of duty: Three years, so this little interrogation was within the boundaries of his contract. And they informed him that he'd be going in for a battery of tests in the morning. They didn't come right out and say why, but, come on, they didn't need to. They wanted to know how he was alive, right? He assumed they'd exhumed dead-him from wherever he was by now, and that they were over there scratching their heads. So, here he was, sitting against the wall, eyes closed, and so fucking chill. So, yeah, it was easier once the nightmare became real, at least for Holly Webster. Without Noah around? It was kinda monumentally easy to just not feel. Old habits died hard, or however that cliched saying went. |