A Time to Give Thanks (narrative/open)
Thanksgiving was a time for family. A time to be grateful for all of the blessings God had granted upon you. Once upon a time before there was a Ragged Lady, before Chichén-Itzá, before Harry Dresden had gone the way of mortal men, Molly had a lot to be grateful for. That was all gone now, and it left a big gaping world of ouch inside her that never seemed to start healing. There were a lot of reasons why, a lot of contributing factors that helped create that oozing hole, but none of them mattered to her. Not really. What mattered was that she had felt the holiday coming up without realizing it.
It had started as headaches. They were just minor little throbbing stabs at first, but grew into pulses that made her flinch every so often. Sleep came less and less. Dreams she couldn't remember would wake her up with a start. Sometimes her leg hurt as if it had just been shot, but that faded as soon as she looked at or touched the scar, leaving behind just the ache she was used to. Finally she stopped even trying to sleep. She would pretend for Murphy's sake. Well, okay it was for her own sake so that Murphy wouldn't ask her anything. She wasn't sure why, but she knew she didn't want anyone to ask her questions. They would hurt too much. Literally.
It all came to a head the night of November 23rd. She was pretty sure there were going to be dinners or something somewhere, but she couldn't remember where or when. She couldn't think past the headaches and the throb of dull pain in her leg. The bedroom she was using didn't feel comfortable anymore. It made her feel trapped, hemmed in. She wanted to pace, but she knew that would probably wake Murphy and bring those questions she didn't want, but she couldn't stay still either. Without realizing she was doing so she started layering on clothing. Tank tops under tshirts under thermal shirts under flannel under a sweater. A long cotton skirt over leggings over tights over socks over more socks. It was all finished off with her boots and a second hand military style coat that had lots of pockets to hold components, a few knives and a gun.
The Ragged Lady then pulled a veil over herself, enough to muffle the sounds of her leaving the apartment. The door was pulled shut quietly and locked behind her though she neglected to grab her keys. Slipping off into the AM hours of the night was the easiest part, and there were enough woods and other fringe locations for her to avoid people where she could avoid thinking about the family she left behind in Chicago. The life she once had. She wanted to not be for a while.