Logan Graves misses the quiet (graveslogan) wrote in undeadsiegeic, @ 2015-02-23 22:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | logan |
WHO: Logan Graves
WHERE: Hotel, security building
WHEN: Feb 22, 2015; 4AM (ish)
WHAT: Logan doesn't regret her choices, even if she's not always happy to have had to make them.
Relief. Guilt. Satisfaction. Exhaustion. The rain had finally dissipated to little more then a drizzle this morning, a good sign it was finally over. About 2am, that's when it had stopped. Logan had been awake, because she was always awake. Even when her body couldn't fight off exhaustion and she passed out, it didn't hold for long. A few hours, here and there. That'd been the most she'd slept in months it seemed. She'd long since learned the spots to avoid to make a silent exit from the shared room, feeling too caged when she sat in the quiet dark as her family slept. Had learned to sleep with her clothes on; to keep her pack, harnesses, and shoes safely tucked just under the edge of the cot; her weapons under the edge of the mattress. Had learned to slip everything on and into place in about a minute in the dark. It was still early, the sky dark as she cut across the resort grounds to the security building. Someone was inside, she ignored them and went to her office without a word. Might as well use her reputation to her advantage. No one would think it was weird that she wasn't chatty or polite. The coffee pot still sat on her table, useless without anything to put in it. Same with the desktop that occupied the corner of her desk. No point even booting it up, no point in being here really. Except it was alone, and comforting. Kicking back in her chair, boots resting on the corner of the desk, it almost felt like every other day pre-zombies had. Like they weren't trapped and fighting to survive. Like she hadn't murdered a handful of men yesterday with a tiny woman years younger than herself along for the ride. She didn't regret it though, not even with the sour feeling in her stomach saying otherwise. Maybe she regretted involving a bright young woman. No, she'd wanted and deserved her revenge too. Circumstances then. She regretted being put into a position where murder had been the only answer. Just like before, it was no different then giving up her job. Circumstances. Sitting made her skin itch. It was too quiet out here. Nothing but the drizzle against the roof and an occasional muffled noise from the main room. For a brief second, it reminded her of too many horrible nights passed. She slammed her boots onto the floor, pushing her desk chair back and moving to stand. Made it about halfway erect before changing gears. Her fist connected with the largest target in front of her, the blank screen of her monitor. The throb in her knuckles was grounding, but wholly unsatisfying. She'd wanted to smash it, not just her knuckles. Logan let out a harsh breath, which escalated to a growl and followed by a loud crash as her monitor connected with the wall. Then the smash of the coffee pot followed. Then a mug. Her breath was ragged, she sunk back into her chair as a quiet knock rapt at the door. "Fuck off," she called out, lacking all the heat to match the words. Everything was fine, nothing to be concerned about is what she meant. Footsteps retreated without comment, leaving her to her thoughts once more. |