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Post by Laura Richardson on Aug 21, 2010 19:45:57 GMT
Laura stared at the small cup of liquid she'd been given. The nurse had left again, so she was just sitting on her bed in her pyjamas and trying to work out what to do with it. Her room mate would be here soon, but although Laura had been truthful to Doctor Hudson in their therapy session – she did like Francesca – she wasn’t at all sure about the sleeping medicine. She was sure her uncle wouldn’t like it when he found out. Laura refused to believe she’d be here for the next four years. She’d either escape or be let go long before then.
She set the cup on her bedside table and chewed her nails thoughtfully. She’d talked to Doctor Hudson when she said she wouldn’t and that was bad. She hadn’t meant to, but somehow… it had just happened. So she didn’t deserve to sleep. But if she did… the idea was tempting. It sounded so perfect. She didn’t have to worry, she could just… sleep. No panicking, no waking up in the middle of the night. No seeing her dad standing over her as she lay between awake and asleep…
Decisively Laura stood up and went over to the window, opening it. She’d have to get rid of this stuff. Maybe try tomorrow if she hadn’t broken rules then. What she hadn’t realised was that the door had opened. Laura just hoped there was no one in the garden about to get hit with this stuff, she wasn’t even sure what it was. At least he hadn’t made her have pills. Pills were easier to hide, though. Packet of pills, pot plant, job done. Liquids… didn’t work so well. Sighing, Laura turned to tip the liquid out into the night and something made her pause. She sighed. Why was this so hard? Just get rid of it. The flowers probably want a nice nap.
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Post by Francesca von Hannesburg on Aug 21, 2010 19:58:55 GMT
Francesca opened the door, mindful of her camera bag. The camera, a Nikon 4D, was her most treasured possession, and she took it everywhere with her, for fear of losing it. She'd just been out in the grounds, taking photos of the flowers and the stream. The day had been cold, though, and her hair was windswept and tangled, and she was shivering. Francesca was happy, nonetheless.
She sat on her bed, pulled off her shoes, and placed the camera on her pillow reverentially. Looking up at Laura, she gave the girl a shy smile. She still had the drawings Laura had given her in her bag, and now she pulled them out and carefully placed them on her pillow, wondering of she could stick them up on her wall somehow. She'd need to get hold of some bluetac...
Laura was staring out of the window, and Francesca got up to see what it was she was looking at. Standing beside her, she noticed the little cup for the first time, and frowned. Laura was trying ti tip her medicine out of the window? That didn't make any sense. Medicine helped you. It was good, it made things better. Unless it was bad medicine; Francesca's father had taken pills before, and drunk it. The pills made him very happy, but when he'd been drinking, he tended to get violent. And then things would happen, things she didn't want to think about.
Francesca had tried some of it once. It had burned her throat, and made her eyes water. It tasted absolutely vile, but it had burned with a beautifully bright flame. She'd used it on the night of the Big Fire.
But this was medicine Laura had been given to make her better, surely? That's what they were here for, after all. She frowned at Laura, head tilted to one side in puzzlement. What was she doing? She shouldn't tip it away. Francesca stared at her roommate, willing her to drink the stuff. She wasn't sure what it was; maybe it was to help her sleep? She knew Laura didn't sleep well. Francesca edged a little closer, carefully avoiding touching her, and pulled the window closed, still watching Laura disapprovingly. If it was to help her sleep, Francesca wanted her to take it, not only for her own good, but so she herself wouldn't spend another night lying awake listening to her crying. |
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Post by Laura Richardson on Aug 21, 2010 20:27:31 GMT
Laura noticed Francesca’s disapproving look and winced. Slowly, she withdrew her hand from outside the window, still clutching at the medicine, and eyed the other girl. She didn’t want anyone to be angry with her. But she didn’t want to take it either. She didn’t deserve to. And… Laura was a little nervous. She hadn’t – to her knowledge – ever taken real proper medicine. Not even painkillers except at hospital. And even then if you said you were ok they left you alone. She didn’t know what this would do. Well, she did, but she wasn’t sure.
She stepped away from the window, and as she watched Francesca close it, she chewed her nails a bit. As she watched Francesca for any facial expression, Laura wondered what to do. For the first time she noticed Francesca looked tired. Looking down at the cup, Laura had an idea. “You can have it. If you like.” Something in the back of Laura’s head rolled it’s eyes, but she carried on. She didn’t mean to talk much, really. But she wasn’t sure how to make herself understood any other way. Francesca gave looks that showed what she was thinking, but Laura didn’t do that. At least, not that she knew. “It’s… for sleeping.” She said and fell silent again. She smiled cautiously. Maybe Francesca was angry with her? Had she been keeping her awake? Laura wasn’t sure what happened when she was asleep… after all, she was asleep for that bit. But she woke up with her skin damp. She’d thought they just… leaked out. She hadn’t realised there might have been sobbing involved.
Laura suddenly felt appalled at herself. She gave watched Francesca, hoping against hope that that wasn’t the case. It hadn’t completely passed her by that Doctor Hudson might suspect she’d do this. But she hadn’t really thought to come up against other people. She felt very small and stupid all of a sudden, in her pink pyjamas and bare feet, watching the other girl to pick up on what she wanted Laura to do. They’d got on well enough before… did this mean Francesca didn’t like her any more? Maybe.
By now Laura was prepared to do anything Francesca indicated. Including taking the medicine. Her uncle hadn’t said anything specifically against it, and she needed all the help she could get, at least until the sleep-crying stopped. At least her uncle had taught her not to scream in her sleep any more. Which was a good thing, really. The neighbours had been getting annoyed apparently, telling him to turn his ‘horror films’ down. Sitting meekly down on her bed she put the cup down on the bedside table and waited to see what it was she should do.
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Post by Francesca von Hannesburg on Aug 21, 2010 20:41:21 GMT
Francesca's expression softened as Laura withdrew her hand. She didn't want to scare the girl, or make her think that she didn't like her; she wanted to be friend with this girl, after all. She liked Laura, she'd given her the photo of the fire-heart. So she didn't want to scare her. Staying where she was in front of the window, she gave her a tiny smile.
When Laura spoke, her brow furrowed again, though. She didn't want it. She wanted Laura to have it. She gave the blonde girl a glare, raised her fist, and began chewing her first knuckle, a habit she'd recently developed when she was thinking. She didn't do anything else; simply stood and chewed, and glared. And resolved to stay there until Laura drank it. It was for sleep, so she should have it. God knew, she needed it.
Francesca sat down on her own bed when Laura sat, and began piling up the drawings, in a way that was intended to indicate the discussion was over. Hopefully, Laura would take the hint and drink the medicine.
Francesca picked up the drawing of the panda, and looked at it for a few moments. Of all the pictures, this was her favourite. The little bear looked so happy where it was, it made her want to climb a tree and fall asleep hugging the branches. She put it down, dug through her bag, still half-packed on the floor by her bed, and pulled out a roll of sellotape. Perfect. Happily, she taped it to the wall just above her bed. Next, she put the flower up beside it. Then the laughing women, the horses and wolf, and the cat.
Looking critically at her wall, she twisted her lips. That could be moved to there... Taking the picture of the wolf, she placed it underneath the original row, also moving the cat and the horses. The drawings now formed a little square above her pillow, and Francesca turned, with a satisfied smile, to check Laura had drunk the medicine. |
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Post by Laura Richardson on Aug 21, 2010 21:12:12 GMT
As she watched Francesca’s glare, Laura’s resolve quailed. Ah. The glare said that they both knew what Laura should do, so she should get on with it. And if Laura did one thing it was what she was told, even if there were no actual words exchanged. As Francesca went to do something on her own bed, Laura watched, curiously. While she was well and truly aware that this discussion was over, she wanted to know what Francesca was doing.
Turning back to her cup of… stuff, Laura sniffed it and then decided to just go for it. Swallowing it with a slight shudder – it had the taste of something that died long ago and had never washed, even when it was alive and the texture of phlegm – she stared back over to Francesca’s bed again and grinned widely. Did that mean that she still liked her? Laura hoped so. Being hated by your room mate could be a pain. And she liked her.
Laura cast her gaze back to over her bed. She’d begged some bluetack off an adult earlier, and had stuck Francesca’s photos up with it. She sort of wished she could do more than that, but was out of ideas. Laura caught the other girl’s eye and smiled shyly at her. It was a sort of sorry-I-made-you-glare smile. Setting the now empty cup back on the bedside table, Laura crossed her legs and watched her room mate again. It was odd, but when she was with Francesca she no longer felt pressured to say the right thing. Although she’d still do mainly what she was told, it was a quieter way of doing things. It felt like there were more options.
Laura was still a little worried about what the medicine would do to her, but she was less scared now. She chewed her nails in a relaxing sort of way and picked up her sketchpad to draw until she felt sleepy. A shell. No, a butterfly, Laura decided, smiling at Francesca. Katie and Francesca could be butterflies. Katie had shown their constant movement, Laura remembered that about her. She never sat still until she was ill. Francesca was also a brilliant person, but she showed the quietness. They both had this whimsical way about them. But Francesca wasn’t her friend. That was better. Safer, anyway. She didn’t begin to draw yet, but smiled over at her not-friend.
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Post by Francesca von Hannesburg on Aug 21, 2010 21:25:00 GMT
She seemed to give in with the glare. Francesca gave her another tiny smile when she swallowed the stuff, mingled with sympathy- it probably tasted foul. But if it would help her sleep, Francesca was glad. And oddly proud, as well. It was probably the first time in a while Laura had taken medicine, but she'd drunk it without complaint- reluctantly, but without complaint. Then she took her jacket off, slung it over the end of her bed, and pulled her legs up so she was leaning against the wall under the drawings. She was glad to see Laura had pinned up her photographs; it made her happy, knowing she hadn't just put them in a drawer and left them.
Francesca pulled her camera and a scrap of cloth out of her bag, and proceeded to clean the lens lovingly. When she looked up from her work, Laura was sitting with a pad of paper and a pencil, smiling slightly nervously at her. Francesca returned to her work, smiling faintly. She was going to like it here more than she'd expected.
When she was satisfied that the lens was as clean as it was going to get, she carefully replaced it in the bag, slid the precious case under her bed, and pulled her pajamas out of her bag. She glanced at Laura, reassuring herself that she was too preoccupied with her drawing to look up, before getting changed quickly. She was still a little nervous about changing in front of people, but Laura didn't worry her as much. She was nice, and quiet, and didn't expect anything of her.
Once she was changed, Francesca lay down on her beg and snuggled herself up under the covers, watching Laura draw with big dark brown eyes. She decided not to sleep until Laura was asleep; that way, she could make sure the medicine worked and her roommate was actually asleep. |
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Post by Laura Richardson on Aug 21, 2010 21:43:05 GMT
Laura kept her head down while Francesca changed, partly because she hadn’t noticed and partly because she had realised by now that her room mate was uncomfortable being watched all the time, which Laura could relate to. At her ‘normal’ school all the teachers and the students watched her like she was a ticking bomb. Not that she blamed them, she hadn’t explained the screaming. Laura had the distinct feeling that if she tried screaming here she’d be hauled off somewhere and made to explain herself, not made to sit outside an office.
She was quick at drawing mostly. Her hands seemed to be getting sleepy though, so she drew methodically, doing a basic outline, then detail on the wings, stifling a yawn with her hand. As she finished drawing in the delicate antennae, she looked up to see Francesca in bed and watching her. Giving the drawing a last look over to check she hadn’t forgotten anything she turned it around to show her, smiling. Laura snuggled down in her own bed and watched the other girl watching her. She wondered if this was what all room mates were like, then thought of Jessica and her room mate and decided she was very lucky. That was different. She wasn’t often lucky.
Laura stifled a huge yawn with her hand and shook her pillow into a more comfortable position. She wasn’t used to sleeping in a bed still, but people thought it was odd if she preferred to sleep anywhere else. Like under the dining room table. Apparently she’d just about given Mike and Fiona a heart attack with that. She hadn’t meant to…
She wondered idly what Francesca was normally like, sleeping at home. Did she get up in the night or could she sleep? She wondered if she should ask Francesca if she wanted some sleepy medicine as well. She could ask, if Francesca wanted. Maybe she’d wait a bit. It could be just Laura crying in her sleep. She gnawed her lip sleepily and smiled. She hoped it was only her fault.
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Post by Francesca von Hannesburg on Aug 22, 2010 9:21:51 GMT
Francesca rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling sleepily. She'd got some lovely photos today. Maybe tomorrow, she should go further downstream and try and get some photos of the reeds. As of yet, she hadn't ventured far from the main school building; further away meant less people to run to if something happened. On the other hand, it meant less people for something to happen. It was worth a try, Francesca decided, and pulled her duvet up around her neck, enjoying the warmth. This place was nice. She had to cut her nails, which she hated; she had to go to therapy each week, but it was with Jo, who she liked; they wouldn't let her have fire, which she hated most of all. It was enough to make her think of home; even her father and uncle had let her burn things. As long as she didn't damage herself, they'd said. Then it had damaged them. The irony made her smile slightly.
Why had her dad drunk it? It had made her get dizzy and sick, and made her want to do things she wouldn't, usually. But it burned so well, that must have been what it was for. Maybe her father and uncle hadn't realised? But then, when they'd got back and found it burning, they'd yelled a lot. And hit her, then locked her up. Maybe only they were allowed to burn it? That wasn't fair. Francesca was better at burning things than they were. She'd never seen them burning anything, except maybe meals in the oven. And that was electric, so there was no fire involved anyway. Francesca didn't understand why they'd been so fussed about it, but the thought of her family made anger boil up inside her. Just another way they'd treated her wrong.
As it always did, thoughts of The Fire filled her mind after thinking of her father and her uncle. The flames were there now, warming her, burning away any traces of anger, soothing and beautiful. They were gone now, she didn't need to think about them. Maybe, someday, she'd even be able to talk. They weren't young; they were in prison for more years than either of them had left. Maybe that meant that in a few years, they'd be dead and she'd be able to speak. The Fire whispered comforting thoughts to her, and she relaxed.
Frowning, Francesca rolled back onto her side and dangled her arm over the edge of the bed, reaching for her bag. She shuffled through it until she came to the little bag at the bottom, which she pulled up into the bed. Sorting through it, she found a marker pen, a biro, a ragged assortment of pencils and crayons, a notebook. The sellotape had also come from this bag. Now, she picked it up from where it had fallen on the floor and replaced it. There were also several paperclips floating about in the bottom. Everything in that bag had started off somewhere in the school, and managed to find it's way to Francesca's little bag. None of it was worth very much, but Francesca felt that it was worth keeping hidden, all the same. People got angry when they found you'd been hiding things.
With a slight sniff, she found herself thinking of home in a semi-wistful way. She'd had a whole little hoard of things hidden under her mattress there. Keys, batteries, pens, pencils, stationary, CD cases, disks, headphones, glasses cases, one broken pair of glasses... That was all she could remember, off the top of her head. She was certain there was more, but it was all at home now, and had probably been burned by the fire. But she had some now, and she could always get more.
Francesca glanced at Laura, who had finished drawing by now. Francesca smiled at the picture; two butterflies. Although it was black and white, Francesca could almost see the vibrant colours in the butterfly's' wings. After a second, Francesca made up her mind. She could get more, after all. Reaching out with the bag of stolen goods, she offered it to Laura. She wasn't sure what she'd do with a few paperclips, but she was certain she could find a use for a notepad and pencils, maybe even the biro.
[722 words, biatch! -runs around flailing-] |
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Post by Laura Richardson on Aug 22, 2010 15:36:50 GMT
Taking the bag, Laura sifted through it, curiously. She liked the contents, smiling particularly as she fished out the coloured pencils. Smiling widely at Francesca, she began to colour in her butterfly, blue and yellow. Drawing a flower next to it out of solid marker pen, hoping to make the butterfly look more… whimsical, Laura wondered where Francesca got all of this stuff. She wasn’t even sure they were allowed to have paperclips… She’d done things with a paperclip in the past that had horrified her foster parents, although they never found out that’s what she’d done it with.
Everything was useful… that was good. Laura’s eyelids were getting heavier and she wondered if it was her own huge tiredness, or the medicine. It could be either. Or both. Probably both. Laura yawned widely again and examined her butterfly. It was alright, she supposed. Passing her sketchbook to Francesca, Laura yawned again and wriggled into her bed more comfortably. Curling her arm under her head, she elbowed the pillow off the bed and watched her room mate’s reaction instead. Not to the pillow, to the drawing.
Although Laura supposed the pillow thing was weird. She’d never had a pillow until she’d run away and even then she hadn’t liked it. It was just too uncomfortable. Sleeping wasn’t supposed to come with accessories. She’d never got the hang of accessories. The girls at school seemed to like them, but Laura hadn’t got the point. As long as you were wearing clothes and were cleanish people didn’t care… maybe Francesca could explain. She might understand better. Laura wondered vaguely what Francesca was in this school for, and decided it was maybe the not talking thing. She supposed it could be awkward if you were one of those people who phoned up selling double glazing or something… She didn’t think Francesca would like that.
Laura’s brain sleepily rambled it’s way through random topics and she smiled at Francesca, watching her. She hadn’t known photographs could be so beautiful… They looked just right. Laura had never used a camera, but was sure she couldn’t have made anything that good out of things in front of her.
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Post by Francesca von Hannesburg on Aug 22, 2010 16:18:45 GMT
She seemed happy with the bag. Francesca smiled at her, stifling a yawn. She hoped she liked the little pieces of junk she'd collected. They weren't worth much, but they were things that were difficult to get in this environment, where something like a paperclip was considered dangerous. Laura wouldn't do anything with them, though.
Francesca saw Laura eyelids drooping, and snuggled herself down in her covers, lowering her head so it was half concealed by the thick duvet, and watched the girl for a while longer. She seemed on the verge of sleep and, come to think of it, so was Francesca. She curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. It wasn't nice here, but it was better than home, and Laura and Jo were nice people. It had it's advantages.
Closing her eyes, she nuzzled into the pillow and tried to sleep, concentrating on her breathing. It was a trick her mother had taught her; when you can't sleep, take a deep breath, hold it for five seconds. Let it out slowly, and repeat. By the end, though, Tanya hadn't been able to hold her breaths at all, and then one day, she'd stopped altogether. Francesca pushed the sad memories from her mind and concentrated on breathing slowly. Her body relaxed as she did so, her mind slowly emptying of all kinds of thoughts. Sleepily, she wondered if Laura was still awake. Not if the medicine was any good, she decided.
She really did hope it would do Laura good. She hated waking up in the night and trying to imagine what had happened to her. Unfortunately, Francesca could imagine only too well what horrors Laura had been put through before coming here. She wondered if she'd ever find out. Laura probably didn't want to talk about it, and Francesca wasn't going to ask. |
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Post by Laura Richardson on Aug 22, 2010 22:00:40 GMT
Laura’s eyelids apparently had a lead weight attached to both of them and she felt them close. Maybe this medicine stuff really would do her some good. If she slept better maybe she could keep the rules better. She’d be less likely to cry… Laura’s mouth stretched itself out into another uncontrollable yawn and she curled tighter in her bed. She had to admit she woke with less aches and pains when she slept in a bed, even if it did feel like it was smothering her.
Sleepily she wondered if this was what being cradled as a baby was like. The thought made her miss her mother, if such a thing was possible. Laura had no memories of her mum, although she’d been described to her by her uncle. It made Laura sad to think she’d never meet her. Feeling her limbs become more and more heavy, Laura was momentarily afraid – what if she couldn’t move? Sometimes that happened when she got upset and Laura hated it beyond all feeling. Slowly she checked she could move a foot and was relieved when it happened.
She might have still been worried, but for the fact that at that moment a wave of well-being flooded her and she settled back onto her arm peacefully. The medicine in her system was shutting down her brain in a way she wasn’t even entirely sure she liked, but was grateful for at the same time. Maybe a good night’s sleep would be all she needed. She wondered briefly before she drifted off into oblivion, if Francesca was asleep yet. She wasn’t talking or anything but then she didn’t… but she could hear peaceful breathing in the background somewhere and took that to mean she was asleep. Good. She’d looked tired.
The sleeping medicine left no room for Laura’s guilt, and, although the prospect of no dreams was suddenly scary to her, she drifted away like a paper boat travelling downstream, her tired and abused system welcoming the chance to finally shut down and rest.
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