Thursday, August 04, 2005
Her toothbrush lay in the sink, water dribbling over the handle. Mel splashed more water over her face, hoping the coolness would make the warm-clammy sensation go away. Two showers, face wash, clean hands, dental floss... she still felt dirty after all of it. An elbow nudged the tap, water finally slowing to an infrequent drip. Mel's forehead came to rest against the mirrored glass as a long breath escaped, the warmth fogging the already clouded surface.
It was too real, the quiet shuffle through the warehouses and the nimble-fingered search through boxes of unmarked pharmaceuticals. Raw stuff, raw 'dyne packets stuffed in neat plastic cases, sneakers crunching over used glass vials in a futile attempt to keep quiet on the way to the door... except this time she wasn't trying to pocket any of it, wasn't trying to keep anyone at bay for a few seconds to enjoy a second rush of euphoria before she felt invincible. Those days had gone, replaced by the almost-routine of a high school sophomore. By nights, she was with the others, incantations slipping off her tongue as she asked for strength to stay away from the familiar temptation lest she stumble back into almost-forgotten ways.
Pray for us sinners...
Mel wondered if any of them knew or would even care. More than once she'd thought about dipping her slender fingers into the crates, but she'd always stopped herself before. That girl had been left in Bridge City, huddled on the rusted cot as she sweated through weeks of withdrawl. Visions more horrific than anything she could dream to inflict had danced before her eyes for days as her body attempted to function alone. She'd asked them to light the candles once, just to give some hope to the inner spirit somewhere deep within.
The same candles burned on her desk, the flame warm and comforting behind thick red and blue glass. Raising her head, Mel glanced over to her discarded clothes. A small plastic packet peeked from one pocket, the contents seemingly innocent. Her lip twisted, her chest tightening in realization once again that it wasn't right and that she'd given in. On her knees she emptied the pockets, the packet held between her fingers in tearful contemplation. Thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil...
Water swirled counterclockwise as she staggered to her feet, eyes redrimmed and body exhausted. Still damp, she fell into the unmade bed, content to drift into dreamless sleep and forget that the raid had ever actually happened.
It was too real, the quiet shuffle through the warehouses and the nimble-fingered search through boxes of unmarked pharmaceuticals. Raw stuff, raw 'dyne packets stuffed in neat plastic cases, sneakers crunching over used glass vials in a futile attempt to keep quiet on the way to the door... except this time she wasn't trying to pocket any of it, wasn't trying to keep anyone at bay for a few seconds to enjoy a second rush of euphoria before she felt invincible. Those days had gone, replaced by the almost-routine of a high school sophomore. By nights, she was with the others, incantations slipping off her tongue as she asked for strength to stay away from the familiar temptation lest she stumble back into almost-forgotten ways.
Pray for us sinners...
Mel wondered if any of them knew or would even care. More than once she'd thought about dipping her slender fingers into the crates, but she'd always stopped herself before. That girl had been left in Bridge City, huddled on the rusted cot as she sweated through weeks of withdrawl. Visions more horrific than anything she could dream to inflict had danced before her eyes for days as her body attempted to function alone. She'd asked them to light the candles once, just to give some hope to the inner spirit somewhere deep within.
The same candles burned on her desk, the flame warm and comforting behind thick red and blue glass. Raising her head, Mel glanced over to her discarded clothes. A small plastic packet peeked from one pocket, the contents seemingly innocent. Her lip twisted, her chest tightening in realization once again that it wasn't right and that she'd given in. On her knees she emptied the pockets, the packet held between her fingers in tearful contemplation. Thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil...
Water swirled counterclockwise as she staggered to her feet, eyes redrimmed and body exhausted. Still damp, she fell into the unmade bed, content to drift into dreamless sleep and forget that the raid had ever actually happened.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Someone would probably yell at her for using up a sizeable amount of the available hot water. The entire bathroom smelled of lavender and chamomile, steam billowing out as Mel nudged the door open. Toweling her wet hair, she sat cross-legged on her unmade bed and stared blankly at the floor.
She still felt dirty. She'd scrubbed every speck of mud and dust, the washcloth threatening to take off layers of pale cinnamon skin. Mel put a hand to her head, half-wondering if tiny nail marks crisscrossed her scalp from her furious shampooing. As the red numbers on the clock ticked over to 1:00 AM, the teenager sighed and punched her comforter.
A few hours of social research had made Mel physically and emotionally queasy. Upset with both their behavior and her own carelessness, she'd coughed up an excuse to leave the warehouse after the last ambush. A few well-placed comments and a lot of listening had confirmed some suspicions about another group of heroes running the streets of Paragon City. While she'd allowed herself to mouth off and entertain a few double entendres, Mel had simply scowled and noted the others' disapproval of Tharvia and other recent events. Loyalty to her fellow Champions had taken root fast and deep, and the Cajun had found it increasingly difficult to bite her tongue as the others poked fun at 'that alien chick.'
As for the recklessness... Mel pulled back the collar of her bathrobe to examine the spectacular trophy from her faceplant. How anyone could have missed the ambush from the left corridor was beyond comprehension. Verte wouldn't have let that sort of thing happen, she thought to herself bitterly. She shrugged the white terrycloth back over her shoulder and winced at the twinge of pain. It would fade enough to keep anyone from worrying too much. Besides, being invisible had its perks.
She still felt dirty. She'd scrubbed every speck of mud and dust, the washcloth threatening to take off layers of pale cinnamon skin. Mel put a hand to her head, half-wondering if tiny nail marks crisscrossed her scalp from her furious shampooing. As the red numbers on the clock ticked over to 1:00 AM, the teenager sighed and punched her comforter.
A few hours of social research had made Mel physically and emotionally queasy. Upset with both their behavior and her own carelessness, she'd coughed up an excuse to leave the warehouse after the last ambush. A few well-placed comments and a lot of listening had confirmed some suspicions about another group of heroes running the streets of Paragon City. While she'd allowed herself to mouth off and entertain a few double entendres, Mel had simply scowled and noted the others' disapproval of Tharvia and other recent events. Loyalty to her fellow Champions had taken root fast and deep, and the Cajun had found it increasingly difficult to bite her tongue as the others poked fun at 'that alien chick.'
As for the recklessness... Mel pulled back the collar of her bathrobe to examine the spectacular trophy from her faceplant. How anyone could have missed the ambush from the left corridor was beyond comprehension. Verte wouldn't have let that sort of thing happen, she thought to herself bitterly. She shrugged the white terrycloth back over her shoulder and winced at the twinge of pain. It would fade enough to keep anyone from worrying too much. Besides, being invisible had its perks.
