- (tinieblas) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-02-02 22:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | !ocean's eleven, *narrative, *text, *voice, cristián martin-argüelles, neil donovan, sam alexander |
Narrative, Neil D, Cris M
[Narrative]
[After this.]
She woke in a panic. Cold sweat, and she didn't know where the fuck she was. The room was unfamiliar, and the man slumped at the fucking foot of the bed was just a man, someone she didn't even fucking recognize at first.
She scuttled back like a fucking crab, until her shoulders hit the wall behind the headboard with bruising fucking force. This was how it happened with Ian. This was how-
She got up. Ran. Checked the doorknob to the apartment room, and it turned. It turned and she sobbed, and at least it wasn't one room, one room, one fucking room and Ian pretending to be a shrink. But the open apartment was no more fucking familiar than anything else was, and she was frozen. Hands tangled in dark hair, and her feet had fucking roots, and she froze.
Breathe. Breathe. Fucking breathe, but she couldn't, and she doubled over. And then she noticed the other bedroom door, open, a guard passed out there too. She recognized him. That guard, she fucking recognized him. Neil's, and the events on Cris' doorstep all slammed back like bricks against her chest.
What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck, and she couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe, and the world darkened, and she crumbled. She stayed there, hands clutched in the apartment's thick carpet, and she tried to fucking think.
The other room.
She glanced at it. The bed was mussed, the chair was moved. She remembered Lou's voice, yeah? Like something from a dream. The sleeping guards. She looked around again, and then she crawled to the front door. Hands and knees, and the knob gave under her cold and calloused fingers.
[Text to Neil D]
Your guards are asleep. Lou is gone.
[Call to Cris M]
[Once she talks to Neil. Ring.]