Who: Mac What: Pity Party, table for 1 please (old memories) Where: Bronx, abandoned apartment that once held happy memories When: May 12, afternoon Rating: PG-13 for language Status: Complete//Closed
When Mac heard the latch on her door 'click', she went through a brief moment of panic. She still couldn't really remember what happened the night of the fire, nor could she even begin to place where she was located when she woke up, and how exactly she got back to her own room was a mystery as well. Once Mac tried the door a few times and finally determined it was locked for real and not some stupid prank, she set to work looking through her things. She discovered that somethings were not where they had been left, by her anyways. This made her more suspicious and pissed off at the same time. Had someone really dared to search through her room while she was gone? Fucking-A!
The only things she noted missing were her shoes. Really? Like that's not obvious. What do cops and kidnappers usually do when holding someone they don't want getting way? Take their shoes so they can't. But if she had to, Mac would say fuck-it and leave without them. This is what she found herself doing the next day, picking her own room lock and tip-toeing her way out of Grand Central. She put two heavy pairs of socks on for some protection but she had no weapons on her. A thought that hit her as she reached the store Rodeo told her to go for a new phone. She didn't bother trying to transfer numbers before she smashed her phone with a fallen brick. Mac made sure she got the memory card really good before she went up to the roof and threw all the pieces over the streets of New York. She had stayed at the store for the night, finding some bricks, part of a security gate and breaking some of the displays to use the wooden boards as weapons. She preferred gun but those were back at Grand Central.
Mac left and stayed as far away from other safehouse and main roads the transports liked to take. It was riskier and she had to duck several times from both the humans and zombies, but eventually she made it to where she wanted: the apartment she once shared with Carmen, her girlfriend. The place had been locked up tight when Mac left it behind, but she knew where the keys were and got in without incident. Once in she texted the only number she had memorized, well the second one anyways, the first was Carmen's. She gave Rodeo a vague idea where she was and assured him she was fine before she put the phone down and forgot the world for a while.
The apartment was disheveled because of age and lack of up keep, but because Mac had locked it up so well, no squatters or zombies had been able to get in to it after all these years. She went to the sofa and sat there for what felt like hours. Echos of laughter sounded from the kitchen and the bedroom, sounds of memories long past, ghosts of happiness and carelessness playing tricks on Mac's mind. Staring at the small coffee table that the women had used a dinning table as well as a study table and just about anything else a table could be used for, Mac's eyes focused on something still sitting on the surface. Nearly blending in with its surroundings and covered in inches of dust and dirt, Mac finally put her hand on the picture frame and wiped away the grime from the glass. There she was, just as real as daylight and smiling just as brightly at Mac as she had everyday they spent together. The picture was from one of those photoboths they had at movie theatres and fairs. Mac remembered that Carmen liked this particular picture out of all five the most and bought a small plastic frame from the dollar store to put it in.
Mac fell asleep on the sofa with this picture in her had and woke up still holding it. Sleep hadn't helped. Mac still woke up to find the world invaded by zombies and a sneaky, corrupt government. A government who had tracked her down at the little bar she worked at and all but forced her into working for them "or else" was the phrase. She knew she had a rap sheet, but what kept her from prison was the fact that no one could pin shit on her. But with the way the world changed, suddenly they didn't have to anything on her evidence wise, to make her life hell. So she had gone along with them and reluctantly worked for them. She put up with the bullshit cat-calls and stupid and strange orders to watch so-and-so and keep tabs on where this one and that one went and what who was doing where. And yet if she ever asked a question she was thrown back with the "or else" phrase in some form or another: "shut up or else you'll be wishing you kept your mouth shut," "a pretty woman like you shouldn't think above your station or else she'll learn what prison life in the new world is really like." Made her fucking angry but what was she supposed to do exactly? She wasn't immune, she had no power of her own despite her efforts to seduce her way up, and if she ever tried "anything funny" they'd just grab her and who knows what next?
But they had pushed her too far this time with the whole weird knocking out, drug-like state she was in and locking her in like some fucking animal. So here she was, in her old apartment, staring at an old picture in her hand and watching wet drops hit the dusty frame. Mac didn't even know she had started crying until her whole body was shaking with the emotions hitting her. None of it was fair and she hated it. Being alone in a safe place is what gave Mac the courage to let out a painful sob and let her pain, sadness, and anger take hold of her as she rocked back and forth on the sofa and cried heavily.
Fuck the outside world right now, Mac would compartmentalize tomorrow. But for tonight, she wished she could make a wish that would bring everything back to her and it would come true.