WHO: Josie Reed → Christina WHEN: Just after 3AM on January 10 → Middle of a pretty bad night, indeed WHERE: Her bedroom → Dauntless, then Abnegation SUMMARY: Josie wakes up immediately after having a very violent memory gifted to her in her sleep. WARNINGS: Talk of death, guns, etc. The memory itself isn't written out, just alluded to so it isn't graphic violence or anything.
Josie woke with a start, spinning from her prone position in her bed to sitting up. Her heart was pounding and she could hear the way she was gasping for breath, struggling to fill her lungs properly. Despite only wearing a tank top and shorts to bed and having had kicked most of her blankets off at some point in time, she was covered in a fine sheen of cold sweat as she covered her face with her hands. Though she had been sleeping more or less soundly only moments before, she was now in full panic.
This dream had been different. She was Christina, of course. She was always Christina. But she hadn't just dreamed about sparring or fear simulations or conversations with Tris, Will, or any of the other people she had become friends with in this other elaborate dream world, not this time. Though she had seen and experienced everything through Christina, it wasn't Christina that had been in control. Something else had been dictating her actions, driving her to wake up in the middle of the night, dress, and walk out of the dormitory. She had watched as Tris attempted to talk to her and felt her grab her arm, but she hadn't reacted. Instead, she moved in a robotic manner, responding to orders that she didn't even realize she was getting.
She had gotten on the train. She'd stood there silently, just like the others. She'd left the train with the others, flooding into Abnegation. And then she started making use of the gun at her side.
A shudder went through Josie as the memory resurfaced, as clear as if she had just lived it moments ago, rather than having simply dreamed it from the comfort in her bed. Every detail was crystal, from the slight breeze that came down the streets that they marched on to the sound of her shoes on the street. And though Christina had made no reaction as she spent bullet after bullet, it was Josie that could recall each terrified face. Slowly, she let her hands fall from her face and she stared down at them. They were wet from her tears, but it felt more like blood. In that moment, she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to wash it off.
Josie had been able to rationalize the dreaming of tender moments between Christina and Will, happy to have allowed Beau to alleviate that guilt through simple logic. They were dreams. They felt like memories of another life, but they weren't this life. And while Josie wanted desperately to apply that same logic to what she had just seen and experienced, it was too raw to do that. It might be too raw to ever do that. She didn't know.
Bringing one of her hands to her face, Josie used the back of it to wipe away the tears that had fallen to her cheeks. They hadn't stopped, but she still reached with her free hand for her phone -- and then she halted, even as her fingers curled around the hard plastic. Her immediate reaction was to text Beau or Bea in search for some sort of comfort or support, despite that her glowing alarm clock let her know that it was just after 3AM and not at all a good time to be texting anyone. It wasn't courtesy that stilled her fingers, though. How was she supposed to explain this one to them? How could she expect them to look at her the same? It was one thing when she was the one that was getting beat up or forced to hang from a railing over a canyon. It was something entirely different when she was the one causing the damage. Not just damage, but fatal damage to what looked like innocents.
Slowly, she closed her eyes again, dropping the phone as she instead wrapped her arms tightly around her knees and buried her face into them. Soon enough, Josie let herself succumb to the sobs as they wracked through her body, just hoping that her family continued to be deep sleepers.