jackson harris ( werewolf ) . (likefenris) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-04-30 00:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo, 2009-09-06, jackson |
we go and go and go in circles.
Who: Jackson.
Where: The Budget Lodge; Jackson's room.
When: Early afternoon.
Full moon in an unfamiliar place was always strange. It wasn't the first since he had left Saskatchewan and it obviously wouldn't be the last, but it still felt so entirely alien and therefore thoroughly unsettling that Jackson just couldn't bring himself to leave the room he'd managed to stumble back into at dawn the day before. Sleep had been as elusive as ever, and now that he had stopped moving that insomnia was starting to take its toll. Jackson didn't just feel exhausted, he felt nauseated, and the more he tried to puzzle out why the worse he felt. Was it just the exertion from two nights before and the fact that he hadn't eaten enough beforehand? Was it the unexpected encounter with another territorial werewolf? Something told him it was neither of those things, though he couldn't rule out the possibility that they might at least be contributing factors, even if only in the loosest sense.
God, just when he thought he was settling in this place. It had been naive to think that was even possible, and as Jackson rolled himself up from the flat of his back onto the edge of the mattress, his hair tumbling to cast its usual shadow over his brow, he felt a roll of self-loathing deep inside. How could a lone wolf who had so recently lost their entire pack settle so quickly? Stupid. Why had he even allowed himself to think that was within his grasp? It was nothing more than a pipe dream, a concept so far out of reach that it was almost laughable. With a shake of his head Jackson got up from the bed and strode the short distance to the door. Within seconds he had crossed from the bed to the small space outside and he stood there, hands hanging loosely at his sides, staring out at what he could see of this place he had come to without meaning to.
Scarlet Oak, Ann Arbour, Michigan. Briefly, and more than once, he had tricked himself into thinking there might be a reason he had come here of all places, but along with the foolish belief that he could find somewhere to belong again he strongly suspected that was a lie as well. Of course there was a reason, but it wasn't anything grand or crafted by fate or destiny. It was chance. Accident. It could have happened a hundred miles from here. Low on gas and even lower on cash, he had stopped out of necessity. Really, what it all came down to was bad math. Jackson hadn't calculated just how far his resources would stretch and now here he was, using up the last of what he had in a poor excuse for a motel that stank of God knew what where the walls were so thin you could hear every little thing your neighbour said and did. Every little thing.
No, Jackson didn't believe he belonged here, but where else was there for a man like him? Without warning and with sickening finality he had lost his home and his place in the world, and now here he was, trying to get as far away from the pain and the guilt as he could, only to be stopped short by something so mundane and human as financial troubles. He might not belong here, but there was nowhere else to go.
It was one of those times when his mind ran its own brutal, messy course, and he was powerless to stop it as it spiralled down and down and down, right into the pit of his being, leaving him feeling lost and alone. It was one of those times when he missed Lily more than it should have been possible for one creature to miss another.