Wednesday, November 28, 2012

I Must Be Over-Medicated.


I have been numb for too long.
Too silent, too still; I have seen how it’s worn on Alyssa, how it pushed her to be stronger than she had to be while I continuously fell apart.
She wasn’t allowed the weakness that she allowed me, and she broke, for a moment, with Ivory.
I can’t even be jealous – I only regret that it came to that. I should have been there for her.
But, because she was pushed, and pushed again, with no reprieve, Alyssa snapped.
“You can’t put this all on me! You can’t keep going freaking mute, like you think avoiding it will help!
They probably could hear her yelling at me throughout the entire hostel.
“I just can’t talk about Blair,” I tried to reply – it took ages to find my voice.
“Oh, you can’t? I’m so sorry, that was so inconsiderate of me! You can’t talk about Blair!” I could tell, the fact that she didn’t have anything in her hands to break was only infuriating her more. “You can’t talk about Blair – maybe if you just avoid the subject forever, you’ll forget that xe’s gone!
She slipped; she’d pronounced it ‘she’. We had always been careful, when saying that aloud, to make it sound different.
I don’t know why that bothered me so much.
Well – that’s a lie, I do know.
Regardless, I responded poorly; I snapped at her.
“Maybe I’d rather forget!”
She slapped me.
I deserved it.
Alyssa stormed out – not before getting the last word, yelling through the door, “For a guy who said he’s so fucking sick of his amnesia, you sure as hell aren’t trying to remember the good things.”
I couldn’t follow her; I’m still on that IV.
I didn’t think it wise, anyway, and I deserve to be alone.
At the very least… I don’t deserve this situation. I honestly don’t know for certain whether or not I’m dreaming – as I type this, I know that parts of reality must be incorrect.
Blair cannot be smiling at me from where xe stands, outside the window.
I must be hallucinating.

Friday, November 23, 2012

2.2; Inspiring?


With Ruby lurking around outside (yes, still, the persistent bitch) I’ve gotten so freaking paranoid that I keep thinking everyone’s got a Mark in them. I’ve been ignoring it, mostly – people are in and out of here so quick that it hasn’t become an issue, yet. Until earlier today, I mean.
There was this girl. I think she arrived a few days ago, kept to herself for the most part as far as Curtis and I are concerned. I think she most interaction I had with her was a nod as we passed each other, just because we could recognize that neither of us were regular travelers. I think she was one of the ones helping reinforce windows yesterday? I don’t know, I can’t really remember. She mostly hangs around a couple other Runners, doesn’t really freaking matter.
What matters is, I walked in on her this morning in a corner, wiping blood off her face. That’s when I clue in.
Something’s been off since she walked in the place, and that red scarf she’s got makes it so goddamn obvious I should have my eyes gouged out for not noticing it earlier.
She begged me not to say anything and told me that she’s like me. Running from the Red Cap – which is stupid, I realize. Running from the Red Cap is like running from yourself…once you’re Marked, the shame never goes away.
But, she told me she’d heard of me, heard that I was fighting my nature, and that I was an inspiration.
That’s the biggest, ugliest joke I’ve ever heard.
She left the hostel about an hour ago. I’ve been replaying it in my head, and I still can’t tell whether or not she was lying. Still, if she wasn’t, and anyone else out there thinks I’m ‘inspiring’?
Go cash your reality check, you need it bad.

Dispute Against Madness

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

1.2; Lockets full of ash


We’ve been so busy trying to repay the owners of this hostel for allowing us to stay and having Curtis recover from the operation that we haven’t had much time to write about what’s been going on. Most of it’s been ‘going on’ around Curtis, and it’s sent him right back into that half-comatose state that makes me want to hit him.
He was put on lockdown for bed rest, and I was picking up the slack wherever I could. Avoiding Ivory like the plague, because I’m still not 100% sure on how the Mark spreads, and if she has it I’m not going to be blamed for it. I flat-out fucking refuse. So I was taking care of Windmill, practically rebuilding some rooms of this place, taking care of Curtis, then I’d sleep. That was going on for about five days straight.
Then a few nights ago, I woke up after another Blair-nightmare, and at the foot of my bed there was this dark, stained cloth all folded up.
I unfolded it, and inside was a pile of ash.
I’m not stupid, I knew full fucking well they were Blair’s freaking ashes. One of Blair’s bloody shirts.
I grabbed it, ran to Curtis’s room, and he had a bundle just like it, on his chest, and his face was bleeding like something had raked claws down his cheeks. He’d been awake, when the Hound came, and it had mauled his face. Like Blair’s.
He was just frozen, there…staring blankly at me, when I was calling in the doctor and patching him up best I could. After that, I decided, no more of this separate room bullshit. He’s trusted me enough in the past, knowing what kind of taint I have inside me, and he’s never treated me any differently. And I can control myself around him.
Today, I went out and got us these cheap lockets – maybe it’s stupid, or cheesy, but I don’t care. I won’t let some stupid goddamn mutt get the better of us, and I don’t feel right if Blair’s not with me. I’m pretty sure Curtis was the same.
I filled the lockets up with the ash, sealed them shut (welding them might have been carrying it a little far, considering it’s cheap metal, but it’s not like I torched them exactly. I was careful) and put one on me, one on Curtis. He still hasn’t spoken a word for two days, but I can tell he’s going to keep it. He’s just lying back right now with his hand around the locked part…
Maybe it’s the Vision still fucking with my head, or maybe it’s because nothing too horrible has happened since the Red Cap removal surgery, but… I feel like something worse is on its way, and I just want us to be strong enough to handle it. Blair makes us stronger.

Dispute Against Madness

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

A Bit Of Hope.


I’ve recovered, mostly, from the operation in which Ivory used my blood, along with one of the men running this hostel, to replace the Red Cap inside of Sheryl.
Unnervingly, it wasn’t quite so difficult as expected.
It seemed almost eager to vacate Its Vessel and inhabit the Zephyr Doll, instead, which I tried to voice concern over, but I found it difficult to do so I was falling unconscious at the time.
Alyssa has been fussing over me just short of obsessively; I’ll admit, it’s actually rather nice to have the positive attention, for a change.
The pain isn’t less.
I don’t feel as though it ever will be, and the torment doesn’t stop – the reminders of Blair brought to us by the Black Dog are infrequent, but jarring, and the dreams continue to plague us both nightly.
Even without those things, I know I tend to see Blair no matter where I go, or what I do. The oddest of things remind me of xim, and I often can’t find a connection between the trigger, and the impact.
Nonetheless, I think having Alyssa and Windmill as steady parts of my life is starting to ease the numbness, and the success of the surgery – while concerning – has given me a little bit of hope.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

10.1; I can't lose him


I don’t want to talk about today.
I’ll write about it, because I need to occupy my brain before
It’s worse. It got worse. I’m stupid I’m so, so stupid and I don’t know what to do fuck, I’m dangerous I shouldn’t be around people and I’ve known that for years, how could I have fucked it up so bad, I just
I didn’t want to hurt Curtis, I was scared for him. The fuck-up doctor Ivory agreed to do the procedure, and now they’re just prepping everything. Naturally, since I’ve felt the need to break her face for the past few weeks anyway, I was like, “If you’re seriously going through with this I’m finding out more about this surgery,” and Curtis may be a bit better but he’s still so annoyingly detached about everything which makes me wonder if he’d even care what I did
I found Ivory. I got…aggressive. I needed to know that she wouldn’t fuck mess it up like she did with Blair, because I’ll be damned if I lose them both. Losing her was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, worse than all the Fear shit before, and if Curtis is gone too, I’ll break. I know I’ll break.
I already broke.
I was trying to ask her questions about how she was gonna go about this, and I might have cornered her, slammed my fist to the wall, because she was like, “You have every right to be mad, and I won’t stop you from yelling at me, but you’re bleeding,” and there were tears in her eyes, and my hand had splintered the wall. There was blood.
And then so much more blood. I just
I slipped.
What the fuck can I say to Curtis…
What if I lose him too?

Dispute Against Madness

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

9.1; Suck the poison out


In order for them to take the Red Cap out of Sheryl completely and leave her alive – which I personally don’t think is necessary but I’m through freaking arguing about it – they need to transfuse as much blood into her as possible, while they’re vacuuming the sex sludge out.
Curtis has O+, so he’s giving Sheryl some of his blood. I lost my cool, a little bit.
I asked if he felt sorry for her, and he gave me this look, like, “I can’t feel anything and you know that,” and I threw one of Windmill’s horseshoes at his head. He dodged, so it wasn’t a big deal, but I broke another window.
I can’t be around when they do the procedure (blood, Cap exposure, all that bullshit) and Ivory’s the one doing the procedure…I think the bitch-face who wants us thrown out, John, is also providing blood…
And I’m supposed to be fixing the window, right now.
Instead I’m talking to the Internet like it will be any fucking help to me.
I bet Blair would have given Sheryl blood, too
Fuck this I’m going for a walk. I don’t want to think about all the shit that could go wrong. Curtis would make a fucking terrible Scarlet-Marked.
Ha maybe we could be on the run together from our Marks in this sexually tense celibate relationship, where periodically we’d snap and fuck each other’s brains out until we both came screaming Blair’s name.
That’s the Mark talking… Fuck I wish I were an alcoholic.

Dispute Against Madness

Saturday, November 3, 2012

A Violent Explanation.


Alyssa has been fixating more fiercely than normal, for her, and I fear the result has alienated Sheryl entirely.
I learned late that, in trying to conduct an experiment based on something recommended to her, Alyssa had stabbed Sheryl, leaving hardly a mark when the Red Cap repaired Its host (or ‘Blood Vessel’, I believe is the term).
“He’ll explain,” Alyssa didn’t let go of my arm; she had seized me upon coming to get me from my room, and seemed unwilling to let go.
Rather than question her, I thought it best to just cooperate.
“Well?” Sheryl had a touch of panic, to her, as though she had reached the end of her rope. “What’s the Red Cap?!”
From her tone, I can tell it was a question she’d asked several times.
“The PRE known as the Red Cap is, from what I understand, a sentient ooze that is similar in color to blood, though thicker and capable of spreading amongst humans like a disease. A host body, or Vessel, contains the Red Cap in place of blood, essentially becoming a hollow body; the Red Cap’s consciousness steadily overtakes that of the original person’s, until what most humans know as a ‘soul’ is extinguished. The phenomenon has much in common with mythological demons and vampires, and like an STI, the Red Cap is spread through Vessels through sexual contact.”
“It also repairs the body It’s in,” Alyssa indicated Sheryl with the point of her knife. “If I can cut you open and suction the fucker out of you, pour it into something else…”
“She would die, Alyssa. She would be left empty – if the Red Cap is inside her, she’ll be hollow, there won’t be anything left to keep her organs alive.”
“Priorities.”
Sheryl was growing steadily more pale…and Alyssa was no better, twin trails of blood starting to drip over her mouth and down her chin.
She let go of me, but I offered her my sleeve; better she bleed into that than all over the floor, I thought.
“We’ve got no choice,” she snapped; her voice was muffled by my shirt. “Either we let you die, or you kill us all.”
As horrified as Sheryl appeared, lost to panic, she seemed to recognize that Alyssa spoke the truth.
I took Alyssa back to her room and I’m giving her time to calm herself down. We’re going to continue discussing our options.

8.1; Stuck


Curtis and I had a long talk today about whether or not we should be even trying to help Sheryl. We didn’t make much progress on finding her daughter, before, and now I’m not sure that we should bother. From that girl’s tumblr, she was at least a Scarlet-Marked, if not a Vessel too – I wouldn’t let her anywhere near her mother. I should be trying to do something, shouldn’t I? Just because you can’t kill a Vessel doesn’t mean I should do nothing.
When I said we could try draining the Red Cap out of her system, he was like, “Wouldn’t it just need somewhere else to go?” and then said something about me being the probable next choice for a Vessel. I don’t think it works like that – if I were a Vessel, I’d have the Cap inside me already. That’s how I got the Mark, after all, and if I’d been a Vessel I just would have Red Capped out. So, in that case…it’d just go right back in Sheryl and repair her body. It’d be useless.
Then she’d probably kill us, and when I said that, Curtis went totally silent again. He hasn’t spoken a word since this afternoon when we took a break from reinforcing locks and he said one of us should go check on Windmill.
That horse hates me. He likes Curtis better. It’s really irritating and I’m trying not to let it get to me but I swear to fucking god it’s starting to make me so crazy that I just can’t I almost want to but I won’t, he’s Blair’s horse and for fuck’s sake what am I even thinking
It’s building up in me, again. I almost had to be physically restrained about an hour ago, or else I might have tried to hit on the next person to walk by my room. When it gets like this and there are so many other people around, it’s like I can’t control it…this stupid impulse takes over and I can’t do a goddamn thing to make it stop.
And the dreams are making it so much worse
Seeing Blair straddling Curtis like that is just plain fucking hot
Even if I were normal, and even if Blair was still alive, how could I not feel
I hate those dreams, more than anything. I would give literally anything to make them stop. Leave me the fuck alone, Miss Cleo – I can’t take another night of your lies.
Also, I know Blair didn’t become your Scion, no matter what you show me. S/he wouldn’t do that. S/he was too strong for that, and you knew it.

Dispute Against Madness