Eloise Stamp (stampitout) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-07-30 17:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2012 [07] july, ellie |
WHO: Ellie and David.
WHAT: Distractions.
WHERE: E+D's room.
WHEN: July 30th, night.
RATING: TBD. Mediumish.
Ellie had feelings, lately. A lot of them. An endless row of difficulties, things she couldn't -- or didn't want to -- express in the wake of so much mourning. She'd been learning a lot, lately: emotion was a balance between irrationality and justification, reasonable sensation. Not that it was reasonable to feel so guilty about being alive, really. But of course -- psychologically -- such a thing made sense. It would go away in time, Ellie hoped; in time, when logic became comforting again. I wasn't the only one planning and executing the experiment. I pay for it now, but I wasn't the only one. Ellie knew this to be true even now, but for as much as she lacked guilt, she hurt sincerely. It was painful to see Rae and David as they were now, and realize that no matter how much she cared for either of them -- no matter what she did or gave -- in the end there was nothing that would make up for the loss.
So now, here she was, doing as Rae asked. Distracting David, even if she'd never actually manage to tell him how she felt. Regardless of increasing evidence that he might feel the same, that he might like to hear some of what she wanted -- needed -- to say. Regardless even of that. Eloise had never been very good with words: that wasn't something that changed, even if she felt changed. Different. There was so much coming back to her now, in the slow return of memories she'd lost -- and that was difficult, too, like everything else. It was hard to see yourself changing in past, present and future tenses all at once. Ellie hadn't even reread the journal entries yet, the ones that detailed her dreams, the bite scars along the skin of her back. How had they gotten there?
I won't think of those things tonight, Ellie thought. Tonight is for David now.
David. The idea was that, if she gave him enough gifts and surprises and attention, eventually he'd piece things together on his own. Maybe he already had, even, and was simply waiting for Ellie to move out before telling her he didn't want all of this from her, or was actually in love with another woman, or something else she couldn't think of presently. Eloise would be okay. She'd be fine -- he could tell her anything, because they were friends, and she'd have to be happy with that first and foremost. Not that she wasn't, of course, but friends didn't think of eachother all day, and friends didn't feel overcome with love at the sight of eachother sleeping or yawning or taking a few steps or running a hand through their hair or smiling or reading or eating ice cream. Friends also didn't have this much sex, generally. Usually. That was also a thing. And it made her feel silly, when she thought of anything else -- all the other boys she'd been with, or sort of liked. Evan. Eisen. I should have been looking at David. I wish I'd met him years ago. She also wished that Allie had never existed, sometimes, but that was extremely rude and not even remotely true. But it sort of was. A little.
Tonight, Eloise waited for him on his bed. She'd dressed up, done something with her hair, polished and primped until she looked something like she had before the outbreak. Pretty. And not completely appropriate -- out of place, certainly, in this room that had become a mishmash of objects and people and feelings.
There was an EMF reader in her lap. She held a flashlight in her hand, too, and a book rested at her side -- something that had been in the library, which meant that she'd brought it over herself. Even before all of this. Haunted Northern New York. Strange things afoot.
And Ellie didn't believe in ghosts, not even a little -- but she believed in David.