Helena Wells has "disappeared" with the Astrolabe (ismellapples) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2012-02-28 23:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | helena g. wells |
Who: HG
What: An entry in her diary that she's been keeping since arriving here.
When: February 28, 2012
Where: In her diary, which is kept face down in a drawer in her flat
Warnings: Some language
Status: Narrative in first person; complete
Notes: Shush that it's a diary entry. It worked easier than a simple third person narrative and this is more in her character. And no, it cannot be found and read. Besides, Claudia would probably be the only feasible character to be in a position to do that, but I doubt she would. Unless, you know, she's suspicious and wants to ensure HG doesn't go killing someone.
28 February 2012
Yesterday was another bad day. I should perhaps worry that I have had more bad days than good lately in regards to my emotions and finding my place within this world. I thought acclimating to America in 2010 was difficult, but this is far more trying. I have at least come to accept that the Warehouse and everyone associated with it that I knew, save Claudia, are not here. That does not, however, make it any easier. In fact, it makes it harder. The Warehouse had been the only home I had left, and here? This room in this building? It is not home to me yet, and while I know I am not the first nor the last to be displaced from my world, this is the second time I have found myself out of my time and my world. There are a score of new dangers here that are not artifacts. Instead this is a war between the forces of Heaven and the forces of Hell, and we are caught in the middle, forced to choose a side. But there are more dangers than just the ones native here. Anything can happen at any time due to the Seal.
Sadly Irene has been caught up in this latest curiosity. A future version of herself has appeared here, her face having been skinned off by Jim Moriarty. Words cannot amply describe the anger and rage that I feel because of this. When I saw her, listened to her, my heart broke for her, then filled with a burning hatred. Nothing would satisfy me more than finding Moriarty and seeing how he likes not having a face. The images that have been dancing through my head are not for the feint of heart. The images are akin to what I did to the men who murdered Christina, though Moriarty would suffer only slightly less than those men did. As much as I want to see him suffer, I cannot give in, I cannot let myself walk down that path of rage again. This is another reason why I am so glad that Claudia is here. She is not Myka, but she can still help keep me grounded. I pray that it is enough because if I start, I know I will not stop until Moriarty is little more than bloody puddle on the floor. If I kill in cold blood again, it will only prove that I am little more than a monster myself.
Such a strange view of myself, labeling myself as a monster. But that is what I was. I have blood on my hands, both guilty and innocent. I must hold onto my humanity, my heart, my soul, for if I lose that, then everything I worked to correct will be lost. My noble death will have been in vain if I just give in to my bestial nature. Christina wouldn't want that for me, but I am no longer the woman who was once her mother. I wish I had my locket, just that one simple piece of jewelry that always kept my daughter close to my heart. It was my one last link to my daughter, a way to keep her close to me no matter where I was. The swing of the pendulum of fate is a cruel one indeed. How many more are coming my way? Am I never to feel completely right and accepted in any place anymore? Is that the price I must pay for losing my mind after Christina died? Is there no end to this? Is it really too much to ask that I can fit in somewhere and have a home? I am so exhausted of this constant back and forth and being alone in a strange world with only the Warehouse or Claudia as something familiar to me. I sincerely hope that I will remain here for a good long while because I cannot take another major change to my life. This is the final straw and if this world breaks the last remnants of my soul, then so be it.
I do hope that tomorrow is a better day. I cannot take many more bad days in a row. I need a reprieve, time to properly sort my emotions, to turn to Claudia for strength that I find I am lacking in. Perhaps I will go visit Irene again, give her some company again. She could use a little cheer, a break in the monotony of being in the medical room. It would, hopefully, also keep me from focusing so much on my anger.