Rebekah MacKenzie (beckathesweet) wrote in rrinitiative, @ 2012-10-25 07:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | day seven, rebekah |
Following Impulses
Character: Becka
Setting: Her room, cafeteria, library, dawn
Nothing had been fixed.
Becka was pretty sure they'd just wound right back to square one by Adam suggesting they go about things the way they were before and her agreeing with that. It was painful to think he’d brushed off her thoughts and feelings, seemingly unwilling to try to understand what she wanted or why she wanted it. Even after everything she'd said, she felt like he hadn't been able to see what she wanted. He'd just let her go, and that stung. It had only been a week, but it had been such an intense, emotionally-charged week. This wasn't the outside, and it wasn't really fair of him to try to compare what was happening here to what might have happened out there.
He'd barely touched her the whole time she'd been there, and it wasn't even that she'd wanted him to make a move on her, but the way he’d been had just made her feel like an inconvenience, an intruder on whatever was going on with Wren. He’d seemed more upset about Wren leaving than the fact that someone had died. Was it so wrong that she’d just wanted to be held, to feel like she mattered even a little bit? Maybe he’d just been upset that she’d woke him up, even if he’d said he wasn’t. But whatever it was, she just didn't know what to do about any of it, now.
Becka was sure that a big part of it was because of her own stupid hesitance to do anything in the past. Because she'd been so damn afraid of the consequences, so afraid of getting hurt that she'd kept from doing anything that could lead to her being in a position to get hurt. And in the end? She had to accept that she'd just been hurting herself all along, because letting that fear dictate her life had left her utterly ill-equipped to navigate this minefield of thoughts and feelings. She should have given in, all those times Lucy had tried to get her to unwind, to relax and just give someone a chance. To drink and party and just be fearless.
She wasn't fearless, though. She was just a scared little girl trying to keep it together, and she didn't think she was doing a very good job of that. She'd tried so hard to be good, and she'd ended up in prison anyway. What was so wrong with her that she couldn't seem to do anything right anymore no matter how hard she tried? She was constantly saying and doing the wrong things, and she wasn't in any kind of mindset to realize that the thought was overly dramatic and untrue.
The walk to her room was short, but she'd managed to get herself worked up during it, the frustration she'd felt toward Adam internalizing and transforming into anger and frustration toward herself. She thought about writing a private entry, but she wasn't really sure she was ready to get all her thoughts out on paper just yet. Before she knew it, though, she was waking up her computer and going to her messages. She typed out a short message to Leandro: Is it too early for a drink? It was meant to be a kind of joke, a way to tell him that she was having a rough morning, but as she sat there, the urge to follow through on the thought became stronger and stronger.
When was the last time she'd done something impulsive and foolish? Had she ever? Alice didn't count. Alice had taken two weeks to work her down enough to convince her to help. It hadn't been impulse. She didn't think she ever had done anything impulsive and foolish in her life. It didn't matter that she was conveniently forgetting several things she'd done with Lucy that could fit the bill. It was completely irrational, but she felt like she had something to prove now, that she could stop thinking and just do once in awhile. And it would hopefully have the added benefit of getting her out of her head for a little while.
And so she shot off one more message, this one to Violet, not able to completely shirk her responsibilities. She was careful to leave her intentions out of the message, though, just keeping it simple. And she knew that she was messaging Violet more to avoid messaging Cal. The doctor was far too astute and she couldn't be sure he wouldn't see through her even with everything he must be dealing with with Caroline's death.
As soon as she sent the message, Becka was standing up and leaving her room again, this time remembering her key, though forgetting shoes again. She wandered down to the cafeteria, relieved that no one else was in there for the moment. Still, she moved quickly and quietly to the back of the bar, picking a small bottle of alcohol that she didn't think anyone would miss. She tucked it within her sweater, feeling like it wasn't something she should advertise.
The last place - or one of, anyway - that Becka wanted to be was the courtyard, but as with yesterday with the stocks, she just avoided looking at it as she walked out of the cafeteria. She wasn't think about what she was doing. She was, in all actuality, refusing to think about what she was doing, and it sent a little thrill of anticipation through her. She could do this. She could just do, and who knew? Maybe she would be good at it.
She wasn't sure why she chose the library, but she wandered to the back stacks, not wanting to be interrupted. Why hadn't she just gone back to her room? She'd be sure to be alone there. Only she couldn't really be sure no one would try to find her there. Who was going to look for her in the back of the library? She flopped herself down, leaning back against bookshelves as she twisted the cap off the small bottle.