ichoosefight | 18 - Text - Any time from Thursday to Sunday

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18 - Text - Any time from Thursday to Sunday

[ooc | Throwing this up now for close friends who were interested in popping in. Depending on when you decide to talk to her/show up, her condition will be steadily improving in the direction of Monday, so pick a day based on what you feel like dealing with? Placeholders perfectly acceptable. Assume text responses take a while. ]

[ Private to Paddy ]

I got my very own corner. It's dark and full of blankets. I'm really quite fond of it.

...Any thoughts on things I can eat that won't make me nauseous?

[ Private to Tim ]

Smuggle me food? Or better yet, smuggle me an IV so I don't have to actually eat ever again.

[ Spam! For anyone brave enough to come and check on her. And look, you have a choice of days! ]

[ The moment she made it back to her room, Stephanie locked the door and barreled onto her bed. She was well enough to walk, but every part of her body still ached. Still, she was determined to seem strong. The whole way back she took special care to avoid running into anyone she knew. She didn't do anything to the drawing of what she had to assume were honeysuckle flowers, probably from Claire, outside her door. She locked the door and kept the light off, keeping as quiet as she could. Her room should look for all the world as though she wasn't there. That way she could pretend at times that she wasn't there at all, but in the CES, the library, the gym, or best of all her room back home.

Most of the time it wasn't so bad. Sometimes she would get out of bed and pace the room, try to work through her feelings about what had happened during the flood. She even took a shower at one point. Other times she would get depressed. She thought a lot about quitting, going home, even giving up the cowl and living the rest of her life like a normal person. When it got really bad she thought about quitting school, giving up both her vigilante life and normal life, living on the streets. Every time she thought about killing herself she opened up her Philosophy textbook and pretended to do homework.

The worst was the cravings. She cursed herself for not knowing who it was she got the damned stuff off of, for not having the courage to ask around and admit that she remembered everything. She even picked up all the empty bottles and both wine glasses from her floor and shattered them against the wall in a rage. The bathroom was the only part of her room that was spared any wrath, and then only because she needed a clear path to the toilet. She cut her feet on the glass a couple of times, but she barely felt it. That was Thursday.

She wanted it all to stop. She wanted to know who had done this to her (because how could she possibly have done this to herself?) and exact some sort of revenge. Most of all, she wanted the drug. She even remembered most of the stupid song he had sung to describe it to her. Zydrate comes in a little glass vial... Friday was spent huddled on her bed in the corner as she sung it under her breath, shivering and sweating and hugging the blankets she wrapped herself in. Saturday was better. She actually got to sleep, and spent more of her time cold than overly hot. By Sunday she was beginning to clean her room, mostly by shoving everything on the floor against the wall. Still, it was an improvement. She was getting better, day by day. ]

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I-- shit. I wish I really didn't remember. [ Her patience with life, it is running out. She lets him lead her to the bed and flops down on it, but she holds on to his arm. She doesn't want people to see her like this, but she doesn't want to be alone either. ]

[Well this is confusing. He hesitates, looks at the door, then sits down on the edge.] I'll stay for a little while, [He offers, and. Might half be hoping she'll refuse, half hoping she won't. It's very difficult to decide these things.]

[ Her hand just stays on his arm as she curls in on herself. Her shoulders start to shake, and- crap. It's another faze of depression. ]

I'm sorry about all this.

[Crap crap crap indeed. Tim puts his hand over hers.] It's okay. Really.

Don't tell anyone. [ She squeezes his arm, trying to at least sound like she's not crying. ] About the whole-- I don't want to remember.

[Oh God. He squeezes her hand, and nods.] I won't. Our secret, okay? We don't have to talk about it again, if you don't want to.

[ She nods too, dropping his arm to wrap her own around herself. ]

I really messed up.

[He just settles a hand on her shoulder.] You weren't yourself, [he said, trying to be comforting.] You should try and sleep, Steph.

'Try' being the key word, [ she grumbles with a sniffle, glaring at the sheets. She hasn't slept properly in days. ]

Better than not trying. [He doesn't have nearly enough medical training to deal with this right, but he stays where he is.]

[ It's not actually possible for her to get into a tighter ball at this point, but damned if she isn't trying. She at least closes her eyes so it looks like she's trying, and not hitting herself for every mistake she's ever made. ]

[He just. Sits with her. Eventually, if she's okay with it, he reaches over to rub her back, hoping she'll actually sleep.]

[ She's definitely okay with it. His being there helps her calm down enough that she doesn't break down completely, and eventually she even stops shaking and crying. She doesn't fall asleep though. ]

You don't have to stay if you don't want to. [ Her drug-damaged mind keeps telling her he doesn't want to be here. He doesn't care. He just feels obligated. The smaller, healthy part is telling the other part to shut up. ]

[He doesn't really want to be there, but it's because he doesn't want to see her hurting. But he knows better than to think about leaving.]

I want to stay.

[ She struggles, she really does, to keep all of her awful thoughts inside. She struggles partly because she knows she'll regret it later, partly because she doesn't think he wants to hear it, but mostly because she's afraid he'll agree with her. She doesn't know how much time has passed by the time she swallows the urge to blurt out all of her inner fears, but she pushes herself off of the bed to start pacing. ]

I hate this place sometimes.

[He halfheartedly tries to stop her.] Yeah. Me too. Look, you really should be resting, Steph.

[ She kicks at some of the stuff on the floor in frustration. ] I'm not tired. [ Well that's a lie. ] I can't sleep. I keep seeing- things. I don't know. Not worth it.

Then maybe you should go back to the infirmary. They might have something to help you. [He's just. Sitting on the bed, and watching.]

The sedatives make me sick and it's just so bright all the time. [ She rubs her head where she hit it and watches the ground so she doesn't step on any more glass. ]

[Oh hey, glass. Tim gets up to crouch and clean that up.] All right. No infirmary. [He could be a stubborn ass about that, too.]

[ She smiles weakly at him. She's totally just bitching, but she appreciates that he won't try to force her. After a minute or two of pacing she flops down on the floor and holds her head in both hands. This whole thinking thing isn't going so great for her. ]

What did you do during the flood? [ And yup, she's back on that again. ]

[It's been a while, and they've had their falling out, but he stills knows her. Bitching is something he can just nod his head through, at times liket his. He grimaces a little at the question, making sure she didn't manage to sit on glass.]

I lived a nerdy childhood dream. [Don't make him go into detail, dear God.]

Sounds peaches. [ And totally unhelpful in the whole 'working through this' department. ]

Manage to make yourself look like an idiot? [ And she asks this, of course, like he would never ever do anything to make himself look like an idiot. ]

[Of course he wouldn't. He's totally suave and cool. But. Tim just grimaces again and leans toward her.] Don't tell anyone, okay? I was Captain Kirk. From the sixties. Hideous costuming choices and all.

[ She glances up at him, a little surprised at first, and then a grudging smile starts to grow. And grow. And she's even laughing a little. ]

I bet you loved it.

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