|Kana Denmire (the_new_hotty) wrote in genome_project,|
@ 2012-12-04 11:00:00
|Entry tags:||december 2012, elliot denmire, open|
Who: Elliot and Open
What: Dinner Break / Withdrawal
When: Tuesday afternoon
The day was thus far sucking with the might of a thousand suns. She had apparently lost track of how many pills she had left, and now she was suffering the consequences. She didn't have much extra money at the moment, so she couldn't very well get more until she got paid; however, that was still a few days away. She sent a text to Aaron, hoping that perhaps he could find it somewhere in his heart to help her out a bit. It was only the first day, but some of the withdrawal signs were already beginning. Namely the sensitivity to light and sound was what she noticed. As long as she managed to get some soon, she would likely not have to worry about anything too major. She had experienced these withdrawal symptoms many times before, but that still didn't help. Each time this happened, she wanted to try harder and harder to prevent it from happening again. The bad thing was she still felt she couldn't stop taking the pills, so the only other option was to make sure to keep more of them around as back up.
She looked at the tray of food in front of her. A chicken sandwich was sitting there with but a single bite taken from it. At first she had thought it was the sandwich itself, but she confirmed it as another minor withdrawal symptom when she tried one of the fries. It was a strange metallic-like taste. She tried to eat a bit more, but she felt nauseous because of the taste. So now, the sandwich just sat on the tray, while she tried to ignore the shrill sounds of cellphones going off all around her. The holiday music also didn't help. Nothing like cheerful Christmas music on a miserable day to cause that extra bit of aggravation. The songs with bells in them were the worst, for the bells seemed to stab her ears each time they sounded.
Pushing the tray away from her a bit, she lay her head on the table and fiddled with her blood red skirt. Her legs were bare. She had put on stockings that morning, but those had vanished earlier when she nearly started a fire in the break room. Her black boots and corset were still alright, thanks to the extra material she sewed inside all of her clothes. She wished she could leave, but she was the only one that could work closing tonight. The manager would be around, sure, but he only did manager stuff. The store would be a wreck in the morning, and he would find a way to blame her, so she was stuck there. Unless she wanted to lose her job, of course.