sookiescookies (sookiescookies) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2014-04-19 16:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !open, ~sookie stackhouse |
Who: Sook and Nigel and slightly open
Where: Firing range
What: A different therapy
When: Backdated to the day after this
Rating: High for violence, language, themes and mentions of depression
Open: Yes with good reason and ask first
Status: Ongoing/incomplete
She hadn't slept since the door to her home had closed. Sure, she got a few hours here and there but the wear had started to show. Her normally constant happy smile had been replaced with a vein of neutral nothingness behind her eyes, a deadness that Hannibal had instilled. She couldn't stop the nightmares when she did sleep; hands dragging her down into deep waters, forcing her to swim in open waters - before the door had closed, she'd been so scared of swimming, of dying like her Momma and Daddy did, drowning before their time. Now though, water was cold and made her feel like she belonged in it. It was hard to keep herself to herself, going to work early and not coming back until everyone else was asleep, even staying in the room above the bakery a few times.
Then Nigel had barrelled in, sworn and cursed, smoked in the kitchen, been loud and brash and made her push back to get rid of him. She was certain he was as much a thug as she was a murderer. Maybe that's what she was comfortable with now; being among good people just made it seem worse.
Sook never broke a promise and left her work for a few hours to let him repay his debt to her by teaching her how to shoot. At least he wouldn't act like she was an angel or a damsel that wanted saving. Sook didn't feel like a fairy princess anymore.
She waited patiently for him, wearing a simple t-shirt and old, worn jeans that hung from her frame.