Tʜᴇʀᴇsᴀ Cᴀssɪᴅʏ : ʙᴀɴsʜᴇᴇ (warningsiren) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-08-12 22:13:00 |
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Insomnia was weird. You felt like the only one alive in the world-- even if you were in New York. Even if you were in a tower full of people. It was you and your mind, and maybe a few hallucinations. She heard phantom phone vibrations. TVs from other apartments. Horns honking. She wanted a beer and a bubblebath. That was all she wanted. She went out to the lobby and near the a wastebasket was a box labeled FREE-- from when someone bought some toiletries and groceries for the tower residents unable (or unwilling) to leave during the lockdown awhile back. Men’s bodywash and a Yoo-Hoo. Welp. It would have to do. Terry sat in a bathtub, smelling what she figured was what your man could smell like. The Yoo-Hoo was warm and not well-shaken (her own fault) and that was when she accepted it. Sean Cassidy was dead. She remembered being raised by a man who wanted to protect her, who loved her more than his own life, who needed her as much as she needed him. And then Sean. He met her when she had been raised by another man, was a criminal, was broken-- and loved her anyway. But this place gave her hope. Maybe her dad could show up here. Maybe... She went through the stages of grief now, didn’t she? Shouldn’t it be done now? Maybe the sadness lingered because of the fact that Jamie was gone, Ric was gone. Why did she miss Jamie so much? He had moved on, he even had a hot girlfriend here before he disappeared. But he always felt like he’d be hers. Even when she didn't want him. It was nice that Rahne was still there. She shouldn’t be lonely, there were so many people here, people she should get to know. And maybe Rahne needed her, maybe Wade needed her too. Wow, Wade. Don't get her started there. No more moping in the tub. It was time she went mobile. She gently stood up out of the water to realize she didn’t have a towel. At all. In her whole apartment. Goddamn, Terry, get your shit together. Her clothes were damp, her hair was dripping, and her St. Christopher medal was sticking to her neck. The only thing she could think to do was what she loved to do in any large building... Go to the elevators. Hit all the buttons and sit on the floor. Feel the floor move up and down. Tom told her once he used to do this in their old apartment, when she was an infant. it made her sleep. She thought she should try that trick now, before attempting the Brandy on her gums or children’s Benadryl. |