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reds-writings · 3 months

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sunday kind of love

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: finally a bit of pure fun and fluff! this kinda applies to the jealousy, jealousy universe but it can totally be read as a standalone! requests are open so hit my inbox if you so choose! enjoy!

word count: 1.3k ish (a lil treat)

warnings: light cursing but not much else! the ending felt kinda weak so i apologize for that lol (minors begone!)

“Y’know…today is supposed to be one of rest…given that it’s a Sunday n’ all. Just in case you might’ve forgotten.” You remarked in your half-drowsy state, your porch swing swaying idly as you lay draped across it like some lazy house cat.

The day had you hotter than a sinner in church. The sun sat high and bright in the sky, certainly having no mercy on all the melting folk of Louisiana. Even the breeze that had the old wind chimes you’d hung up ages ago tinkling idly in its gusts was relentless in temperature, offering no aid to your sickeningly sticky skin. With the way you’d been running the AC and numerous plugged-in fans in your house over the past few days, you were sure to rack up one nasty-looking electric bill in due time. Even with all that operating nearly 24/7 it hadn’t made much of a difference in the old rickety house. You’d give just about anything right now if it meant not being so grossly miserable and sweaty in all the worst places.

The only reason you weren’t inside the slightly cooler haven that was your home was because of a certain pigheaded man who decided today would be the day he busied himself with fixing up your lawn. How ridiculous. One offhand mention of the front yard being a little unruly and your flowers looking a bit lackluster had Rust up and working as if you were Pavlov and he the infamous dog. There was no fighting him when he set his mind on something so you assigned yourself the role of making sure he didn’t drop dead from heat exhaustion like a fool.

“I’m serious, Rustin. We should head on inside. Ain’t no need to get all of this done today.” You called out again, tipping your head to the side and looking over your sunglasses to see that he had now moved on from getting all the lawn clippings into a trash bag to planting some new flowers he claimed would thrive during the season. The way the muscles under the tan skin of his arms moved and the look of utter focus painted on his handsome features had you smiling something horrendously lovesick. Despite his bullish nature, you knew this was just one of his many underlying ways of showing that he cared for you. Loved you even. You could say that now after certain admissions had been made some nights ago and you found yourself no less giddy after the fact as you thought on it what had to be a million times over at this point.

Some Linda Rondstat tune played from the old radio that sat propped up on the porch’s railing, causing your bare feet to tap in tandem with the country star’s divine voice. Rust continued to work in silence as you started humming, sitting up to then swing your legs off the bench’s edge.

You flipped your sunglasses to lay stationary at the top of your head, “I’m feelin’ awfully neglected right now, darlin’.”

That had him finally snorting, “I’m sure you’ll live.”

“You don’t know that. If I were to keel over right this minute cause a certain cowboy won’t give me the time of day, I bet you there’d be some sorta scientific explanation behind it and it’d have you feelin’ just awful. Gutted even, I’m tellin’ you.” You wagged a finger at him as you went on your theatrical tangent. You saw him shaking his head, continuing to work as if that could hide his growing smile from you.

“You find this funny but I’m bein’ dead serious. I’ve got one of the most handsomest men in Louisiana on my lawn and he’s too busy diggin’ holes in my garden. Those flowers are gettin’ more felt up than your poor girl over here and that don’t sit quite right with me-”

“Quit it, woman.” He cut in with feigned exasperation though you knew such outward declarations of flirting made by you had him more than a bit flustered. You could live out this whole scene forever if you could. It might’ve been hotter than hell but the landscape was lush and beautiful. The weeping willow taking up a good amount of space on the front of your property danced in the light afternoon wind. The sunlight was hitting everything just right and it had you grateful to call this all yours. The man opposing you only added to the fuzzy feeling dancing in your veins. Snapping out of your sappy thoughts of admiration you saw Rust finally get up from his position and make way towards the garden hose.

You huffed out a dramatic sigh as you forced yourself up and made your way down the weathered porch steps. He stood over the new thatch of colorful flora, thumb half over the hose’s nozzle to spray down his hard work of the day.

“If I quit it then just how else am I supposed to bug you with my affections?”

“I couldn’t tell ya. Shame that is.” He drawled, seemingly amused with feeding into your impatient antics.

Eyes squinting at him, you tried to fight the quirking of your lips as you ambled on over closer to him.

“You must got some hidden thing for the works of sadism, mister. Leavin’ me hangin’ for hours on end with no-” You nearly shrieked at the sudden cold of the hose’s stream being flicked at you. The offendant stood opposite of you, too smug for your liking as he took in your half-soaked form. The old tank top and denim cutoffs you had on already left little to the imagination prior to his attack, you could only imagine the form of indecency you found yourself in now.

“Oh, that’s it. C’mere you little- HEY!” You screeched as the cold spray hit you again. The momentum with which you charged at him had water flying between you both when he got you again. You wrestled each other for the hose, causing more than enough of a mess in the process. The joy in your laughter had Rust’s chest squeezing almost painfully. The stretch of his grin felt foreign to him but he couldn’t manage to control himself.

As you made numerous attempts to jump up and snatch the tubing from his grip you overestimated your step and slipped on the newly muddied grass, causing you both to topple over. Your belly ached from how hard you found yourself laughing. You almost felt like a child again, drenched beyond belief with streaks of mud and grass finding a new home on your body. A few deep rumbles sounded from the depths of Rust’s broad chest as he pushed some of the sopping-wet hair from your face, looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world that made sense to him. As if you were all the answers to his universe wrapped up into one person. The intensity had you knocking his chin with your knuckles softly and wiping some water from his face.

“You’re an ass, y’know that?”

“And you’re one sore loser.”

“Loser?! I’ll have you know I managed to take your lanky ass down in one fell swoop-”

You were silenced by the sudden press of his kiss. It was hard to reciprocate as you felt yourself smiling harder but he persisted despite the clumsiness of it all. Moments like these were something you’d never take for granted. Any chance to see the man in front of you free of all of his persistent burdens, even if just for a moment, were times you could hold on to forever. You felt nothing short of lucky that he let you in. That you were able to cross paths and choose each other in this life.

You had a feeling there were probably other lifetimes in which you danced this similar dance as different people or different beings. Destined to always find your way back to each other come hell or high water. Damn. Rust's daily cosmic ramblings and otherworldy mumbo jumbo were starting to really get to you.

Though you couldn't help but wonder if he happened to feel it too.

a/n: late night post but we love silliness and laughter! as always feedback is greatly appreciated! hopefully, this wasn't too ooc!

#reds-writings #rust cohle x reader #rust cohle imagine #fanfic #true detective season 1 #true detective imagine #matthew mcconaughey #true detective #rust cohle

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newsies-and-the-nutcracker · 3 years

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Theatre Banter

Summery: The theatre scene between Katherine and Jack, but from Les and Davey’s point of view.

Ships: Kind of Jatherine? None other than that, though. Unless you count the Davey and Les brotherly content I’ve provided for y’all.

I feel like my acc pic is this piece of crappy writing in a nutshell lol

I watched as Jack left Miss Medda just after she’d announced the Bowery Beauties, and started towards a box on the side of the theatre.

“Hey!” Les exclaimed. “Where’s Jack goin’?”

“Quiet down, would you?” I demanded, slapping a hand over his mouth. “I don’t know about Jack. Maybe Miss Medda asked him to do something for her.”

“I think there’s someone else up in that box,” he commented, eyes fixed on Jack’s every movement.

I looked up, and sure enough, he was right. A female with auburn hair was seated next to where Jack was standing, currently throwing an annoyed look at her - I assumed - uninvited guest. “Yeah, it’s a girl. Oh, that poor girl…”

“It looks like she likes him,” Les declared, watching as she over-exaggeratedly gestured to the audience.

“Eh...” I grimaced slightly in opposition.

At this point, Les had completely forgotten about the current act, and now seemed to be fully invested in Jack’s failed attempts to win over that girl’s heart. Who was, by the way, tilting back slightly as Jack leant against the railing of the box, slowly trying to close the distance between the two. I could see his lips moving, but I couldn’t make out what was being said.

That was until the redhead suddenly shot up from her seat, fists clenched tightly. “Do you mind?!”

“Man, Jack really knows how to pick up all the ladies!” Les said in admiration as the blue-clad newsboy was scolded by Miss Medda.

“Unfortunately for him,” I muttered, “I don’t think his so-called charms will work on her. Also, you should really think about getting a new role model.”

But my brother continued to ignore me as Jack stared at the girl wistfully, before grabbing a newspaper out of his sack, surprising me. I figured he was going to try to sell it to her. He then took out a pencil and started to draw on the paper, surprising me even more. He was really willing to lose even an extra penny, just so he could draw?

“I think he’s picturing her!” Les exclaimed in excitement, causing me to have to shush him once again. Looking back up, it did seem like it was her he was sketching out, if the constant glances at her were anything to go by.

He must have been very smitten with the girl.

“Yeah, maybe he is.” I placed a hand on Les’ shoulder, causing him to gaze up at me.

“I should paint as a job!” He bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Calm down,” I ordered. “You’re nine. Even Jack doesn’t paint as a job. He’s a Newsie, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I know that.” Les rolled his eyes, as if I was the younger brother who knew nothing. “I just think it’d be a cool job, don’t you? Jack likes it!”

I chuckled, ruffling his hair. “We’ll see. You need a lot of patience to be an artist, though.”

“What does pa-tience mean?” Les asked, cocking his head to the side.

I fought back a smile and sighed. “Well, you need patience to sit in front of a canvas or something like that for a long time. It means you don’t get… restless while doing the painting. Well, not for a bit, at least.”

“Oh.” He furrowed his brows. “Will being an artist make girls get flustered?”

“More like disturbed,” I grumbled under my breath.

“What?”

“I’m not sure,” I said instead, louder this time, laughing nervously. “Maybe if you drew them, it would. You’d have to ask for their permission, though.”

Les seemed to take that into consideration, before glancing back at the pair in the box. “Hey, look! Jack’s coming down now!”

I followed his gaze, seeing that Jack was indeed heading down from the box. I also noticed the girl pick up the paper he left behind, before looking up in disbelief.

I guess drawing them did get them feeling flustered.

Les was already heading for the boy by the time I’d snapped out of my thoughts. I closed my eyes and exhaled for a long moment, before going after him.

“Is she your girl?” Les was asking, pointing up at the said female.

“Deep, deep down in her heart, she wishes she was,” Jack replied, sounding sure of himself. “I think she secretly enjoyed my company, in my humble opinion.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“She was all over ya,” my brother gushed, praising him. “Can ya teach me how to get-”

He wasn’t able to finish as my hand covered his mouth, punctuating his incomplete request. “We really should be getting home, now. I don’t want our folks getting worried…”

Jack blinked. “Yes, dat’s right. Well, I won’t make ya stay. See da two a’ ya tomorrow, huh?”

“If nothing happens,” I agreed. I quickly learnt that I probably shouldn’t have said exactly that as he frowned, and asked what could possibly happen.

“He’s just overthinkin’ things again,” Les brushed him off, causing me to look down at him in bewilderment. He then said in a lower tone, “it’s one of the side effects of bein’ smart.”

“Not true,” I denied, feeling embarrassed at the fact that even my little brother knew of my tendency to overthink things. “I just... like being prepared for any situation out there.”

“Ah, loosen up, Davey.” Jack pointed his chin towards me. “Nuthin’s gonna happen, so quit yer worryin’.”

I grunted somewhat at that. “See ya, Jack.”

He waved, before walking off. “See ya Davey, Les.”

Maybe getting closer to the newsies wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

#newsies #davey jacobs #I hope no one actually reads this-#please don’t take this seriously #but still enjoy it #I found this after writing it like three months ago lol

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vanchlo · 7 years

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The Assistant / Chapter Twenty, “Defeat”

Hey there, everybody!!!! How has your September been so far?! I hope that school and work and life are all going great for you! I am SO psyched for Niall’s new album, his new song is such a bop! :D Luckily, I’ve had some free time from school lately to write and I made up this little beauty for you guys- haha what am I even saying LOL. On a sidenote, I’m so stoked for all of the new seasons of the shows coming back this Fall! Are there any that you guys are looking forward to? I love too many shows haha, so to name a few I’m super excited for are: Jane the Virgin, Supernatural,Riverdale, The Walking Dead and This Is Us! I’m already loving the new AHS Season, I’m crossing my fingers it won’t disappoint hehe! Thanks SO MUCH for those of you who have stuck around and waitED soooo patiently for new chapters, I know it’s been rough. You have no idea how much you guys mean to me. It kinda has been rough for me too, but I’m SO HAPPY to share this new one with you. Please let me know/message me/comment on your reblog or in the tags what you think, I LOVEEEEEE to hear what you guys think and your comments mean THE WORLD to me! Ok I’ll stop talking now, I hope that you guys enjoy and looooove this chapter!

Here’s a link if you’re new and want to read from the beginning or freshen up on old chapters! :)

Whack!

Jumping out of my seat again, I groan and look up to find the culprit. Speak of the devil, would you look at that.

“A simple ‘hello’ would suffice, you know,” I comment, pushing my hair back and glancing to the object he dropped in front of me.

“Well maybe ‘d consider bein’ that nice t’ you if I wasn’t havin’ all these problems with these files,” Harry retorts with a pained sigh, combing his fingers through his messy hair. I’m guessing somebody is getting sick of all of these meetings this week that he for once has to go to.

“What are you talking about?”

Sunday came and went, and before I knew it it was Monday. I spent the next days carrying out the tasks outlined on Harry’s list, as his notable head of hair was absent from the office due to some reason that contained the words ‘meetings’, ‘important’, ‘many’ and ‘yearly’, and without a hint as to when his return will be. I could care less about him returning to the work scene, as I’ve tucked away the happenings of the other night coated with a light haze of alcohol into a corner in my mind. But the tension and discord underneath it all is clear as ever. Too clear.

A cough racks my lungs as dust flies up into the air at me, my hands heavy with files. “Well God, sorry for disturbing your peace,” I mutter under my breath, a sneeze disrupting my vision and work a mere second later. I shift my legs, wincing at the rough carpet digging into my bare knees as I kneel in front of my desk- well in back of it. Dropping the new files I just digged out onto the stack of others, I attempt to shuffle them together into a uniform stack with them all facing the same way after I messed them up digging one out. But apparently that’s just a little too much to ask. Along with some other things.

Smack!

My shoulders jolt along with the rest of my body forward, almost making me smack into the open drawer in front of me spewing dust. “What the f-”

“Hey, ya got dat Woodman file fer me? I need t’ get my mind on somethin’ else,” a voice bites from across my desk, only scaring me more.

“Scare me much?” I retort, organizing the stack some more before giving up and gathering all of the files into my arms. “God, give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”

“Ya got tha file I want or not?” Harry spits at me as I get to my feet and lay my eyes on all of him. Damn. Veiny hand resting on my desk, next to a tall cup of Starbucks. Good God am I glad that I’m (for the most part) past being his food-run bitch. But now that I say that, it’ll probably jinx it and make a dreaded return.

“It’s not done yet. I didn’t think you would be back . . well, for awhile. I’m working on it now.”

“I sent you an email that I wanted it done by dis afternoon,” he replies curtly, tired green eyes pricked with anger. Something I only ever used to see pointed at somebody else. Not at me. And not because of me.

“What email? I didn’t get an email saying that.”

“Well maybe ya should focus on doing yer job, than bloody organizing and dustin’,” Harry returns with a smack of his hand to my desk, making me jump before he whips around with his long curls doing something like a twirl behind him, along with his luxurious coat. A new scarlet one I’ve not seen before. “I want tha file on my desk in half an hour. Don’ you bloody test me, Holte,” he finishes from over his shoulder. But if it seemed like he said it over his shoulder that’s wrong, because you say things over your shoulder when you’re looking back at somebody and he’s not wasting another look at me. Having to look at me for the last half a minute already seemed devastatingly horrific for him.

What a bastard.

“Here’s your stupid file. I’m so sorry for the wait,” I say with mock sadness, dropping the perfect looking file the color of his new coat onto his desk, with a good old smack.

A sigh falls from his lips, but I don’t stay to see it. I hear it from over my shoulder as I make my way for his door, but it’s not soon enough.

“Ya betta watch how yer speakin’ t’ me. I don’ allow that kinda shit here,” he shoots at me, making me stop for a millisecond.

I keep going and wrap my fingers around the cool smoothness of the handle, ready to turn it when I hear him clearing his throat. A strong ‘what’ drops from my lips, but I don’t give him the benefit of turning around. “Did ya bloody hear me?” he replies, and I hum a ‘mmmhmm’ in reply. “Is that understood, Holte?” he goes on, his voice thick with annoyance and other negative things that I don’t care to make out.

I deal him another ‘mmmhmm’ before twisting the handle and getting a huge slap in the face. Well, not literally. But the sight in front of my eyes may as well be as bad that. And apparently the monster standing in front of me feels the same as her botoxed face caked in makeup creases in disgust. The feeling’s mutual.

“Oh, hey, Amb,” Harry rasps, a sweet like candy tone adorning his voice as she squeezes in past me managing to ram her shoulder against mine in the process. Yeah right like that was an accident, your tiny ass had plenty of room.

“Hey, baby,” she coos, making my eyes roll into the back of my head as I step through the door and out of their little disgusting bubble, making sure to slam the door a little too hard on my way out. It serves you right.

I may or may not hear a little jab from the other side that is clearly about me from Amber, but it doesn’t get past my walls. Making my way down the hall and back to my desk, my ears prickle with the faint hint of something else.

“Sometimes I dunno why I even keep Holte ‘round, she’s more trouble than what she’s worth,” a deep harsh sigh trickles out from underneath his door, and this time the walls around my heart are like sponge. Keeping some out, and letting others in.

Another jab is felt in my chest at a certain one of his words. More so the one he didn’t say, and what one he said instead. Holte. Not Becks.

My eyes drift along the words stamped into the screen of my computer, the words refusing to register with my mind as I deal with the temptation of my eyes rolling back into my head.

“You coming?” a voice jolts me from my daydream or whatever it was, making me jump as I look up to find who the voice belongs to.

Jennings stares back at me before raising his bushy eyebrows at me in a silent question, giving up a moment later as he walks away with his Macbook in hand and frames penned to his coat pocket. A faint ‘yeah’ falls from my lips, although I don’t know why I bother because he can’t hear me. I watch him disappear into a room, giving me my cue to get up and wake up. With a tired sigh, I stand up from my not so comfy chair, closing my laptop and grabbing my trusty pad and pen that longs to be used for the first time in weeks.

Dammit, I wish I had asked for a few more shots of espresso in my coffee this morning.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I step into the bright chatty room full of people in suits staring at their phone or laptop. I stalk off to the very back of the large noisy room where a few other people stand looking just as excited to be here. My legs had just halted when a figure blows past me, almost knocking me into the wall I stand by. My gaze hooks onto him and watches him cross the room to sit down in one of the few remaining wheely chairs surrounding the dark wooden table all of the important people surround. The surprise is little when I register the chocolatey curls and hard set features that rarely budge these days to break a smile.

Harry.

The bright lights flicker off and send us into a thick darkness, one that I welcome so I don’t have to look at him anymore. That smug look painted on his soft face and red rose-

“Alright lot, let’s get this show on the road!” Jennings announces from the other end of the table, stepping up to stand by the first slide the projector shows on the wall. Ugh, yet another meeting with all of the lawyers about this and that.

Clicking my pen on, I hold the pad out in front of me and write down the date, thinking back to the last meeting we had and how mad Harry got at me for not paying enough attention. And so this time in order to avoid his fiery wrath, I blink hard to try and wake up so I can catch every word. Oh this is going to be one long day.

The keys click and clack as my fingers dance across them, composing a reply to a client about something or other. My attention is elsewhere, coming up with all of the same old shit that I have to say, but it’s just a different day. My gaze darts across the room, watching people walk back and forth from the print room and pick up a phone here and there with not even a hint of a smile stuck to their lips. Or as my grandma likes to call it ‘people watching,’ which God knows she could do for hours on end just sitting at the shops or at the doctor’s.

“Hey!” a cheery voice interrupts, pulling my attention up and over to find smiley Asher in front of me with his hands stowed away in his pocket.

“Hey yourself. God, way to scare me.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling and dimples showing. “I just wanted to make sure that you’re awake,” he replies, freeing a hand to pluck one of the goofy pencils from the ancient mug on my desk to play with.

“Yeah, that’s debatable,” I reply, plopping my chin into my hand as my attention goes back and forth between him and the email in front of me. Glancing over it one more time, I fix an error or two before clicking Send. “But look at you, you’re certainly all bright eyed and bushy tailed today.”

“Yeah, I try. I mean somebody has got to be happy around here with Ms. Grumps here and Mr. Grumps over there,” he replies, nodding at me and then back at Harry’s office.

“Haha aren’t you funny!”

“I try,” he shrugs, making a smug face before dropping the pencil back into the mug with a soft clink. His head whips to the right suddenly, taking my eyes with him although I wish I hadn’t been so keen to look.

“I’ve already seen her too many times this week, what the hell does she want now?” I groan, hot rage trickling out of the cracks in my walls as I look at her, repeatedly wishing that she wouldn’t come any closer and just get back on that damn elevator.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I hate seeing her, I can only imagine how much more you do. She’s already a bitch to everybody, but she’s especially more bitchy to you which I didn’t know was even possible.”

“Tell me about it. She has some problem with me that I don’t know about,” I reply, lowering my voice towards the end as I look back to my laptop after it dinged, again.

I hear somebody clear their throat, and when I look up I don’t know who did it. If it was Asher, or the blonde dragon standing next to him and glowering at me.

“Is he in his meeting still?” Amber asks hastily, tapping away on her phone with fake Barbie pink nails.

“Yeah, it won’t be done until two,” I reply after bringing up the calendar and glancing at today’s agenda.

She huffs annoyingly, although every single thing she does is annoying. I don’t get how he can handle it. “Fine, tell him I’ll be in his office,” she bites back, still staring at her phone before stalking off to his hallway.

“I do not get what he sees in her,” Ash remarks once she’s out of earshot, as I follow her order and email him to let him know she’s here. “Or frankly, if there is anything to see past all of that makeup and hairspray.”

“Me too,” I comment, watching her hips sway down the hall and around the little corner as the words weigh heavy on my tongue. Gulping, I return to my computer where a bolded email sits in my inbox waiting.

The work never ends.

“So I heard something funny about you the other day.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” I answer, skimming over the email before taking bits out here and there to send to Harry. To see what he thinks. His word is final, Mr. Dictator.

“I heard you and a certain somebody got stuck in an elevator together at the Halloween Party.”

My eyes lift and I give him the dirtiest look I can muster at quarter to 2 in the middle of a Wednesday. His lips explode into a nervous laugh before he throws his hands up and pleads innocent. “What, I’m just saying what I heard!”

With a shake of my head and the slightest hint of a smile sticking to my lips, my fingers flit over the keys once again for the hundredth time today. Closing my laptop, I reach over to pluck the maroon red folder from the edge of my desk.

“What’s that for? Does it have some juicy stuff, like infidelity or murder?”

“No, stop it, you weirdo. I forgot to drop this off to Harry earlier and he’ll be pissed if he doesn’t see it on his desk when that meeting’s over. I’ll be right back.”

“Actually I have to split, too. I just wanted to come say hi and you know, give you shit about the new office rumor,” Asher replies, starting to walk away with that sly grin stuck to his lips. “Good luck with the she-devil in there, try not to get caught in her crosshairs.”

“I’ll try my damndest not to,” I say, waving at him with a small goodbye before we part ways.

With every step towards his office and towards her, my body screams ‘no’. My hand jumps on the bandwagon when I push open his slightly ajar door to find the one and only sat at his desk. God, I don’t know how she gets away with it, I know he hates when people sit in his chair. Only her, of course.

“What do you want?” she bites, looking me over oddly as she taps away on her phone. Perfect legs shown off in a tight gray dress crossed under his desk, my eyes flitting to her plunging neckline that makes me want to vomit along with the harsh whiff of hairspray I get from her long blonde curls. She sees me staring, and it only makes my cheeks hotter.

“Uh nothing, I’m just dropping something off for Harry,” I reply, forcing the words out one by one as they come out sticky. I don’t have to tell her, why does she need to know.

“Whatever,” she puffs, daring a glance at me to show me those beady snake eyes before she flips her hair and looks away as if I’m the last thing she wants to see.

Yeah the feeling’s mutual, I silent yell at her in my head as my feet drag over to his desk to lay the bulky file on the free space of his wooden desk even though my fingers ache to throw it at her and scrape up that perfectly fake face.

If only.

Ouch.

Warm red blood oozes quickly out of the invisible cut. Sticking my finger in my mouth, I suck on it with a wince and look back to the words staring at me.

Dear Ms. Holte,

Hello, I am contacting you with the interest of hiring Mr. Styles for …

Blah. Blah. Blah. Casting my eyes away, I pull my finger away and glance at it to see the bleeding is almost gone. This time I slowly and carefully flip the page of the stapled document in front of me, making sure not to give myself another stupid paper cut. As the words sink into the folds and grooves of my mind, my stomach tries to distract me with a grumble, but I ignore it and keep on reading. A string of words cling in my mind. Cheating. What about the kids. Her audacity. 28 years of marriage. With my coworker. Rubbing my temples, my attention pulls away from the thirty-page court document I’ve hardly made a dent in. Why I need to be reading this soap opera shit is beyond me, something about precedence and working with new cases of the same nature or something like that, according to Harry.

Whack!

Jumping out of my seat again, I groan and look up to find the culprit. Speak of the devil, would you look at that.

“A simple ‘hello’ would suffice, you know,” I comment, pushing my hair back and glancing to the object he dropped in front of me.

“What are you talking about? I’ve been getting the files to you on time.”

“Hardly. You got tha Woodman file t’ me at tha last minute, and now I come back from a meeting t’ see the crime scene photos missin’ from tha O’Pete’s file,” he replies, face creased with annoyance and anger. “Maybe if ya weren’t so busy chattin’ with yer friends you’d be doin’ a betta’ job and wouldn’ have bloody lost ‘em. ‘m sick of havin’ t’ put up with this shit, Holte, I shouldn’ hafta be doin’ yer work for you . . And don’ you bloody expect me t’ go an’ find those photos for you.” his words hit me like a double-edged sword, and I know that he knows that too. It’s what he intended. And what Amber intended when she ratted on me about talking to Asher.

“I had the pictures in there when I dropped the file off in your office, I promise you.”

“Sure ya do,” he responds curtly with ice held in his eyes, but he holds my gaze for a few seconds longer than I thought he would. And he softens. Just a little bit. It makes me wonder if he believes me, or what the hell he’s thinking. No, you can’t pull that card, Harry.

But my wondering changes when I see a flash of blonde and something else entirely behind him, just before a pair of arms go around his middle and some cheesy greeting pricks my ears, making them want to bleed if I have to hear that squeaky voice once more.

“Hey, I was jus’ leavin’,” Harry says, turning around and intertwining his hand with hers, forgetting he was even talking to me a moment ago. I don’t care to listen to the rest of their conversation and her nails-on-chalkboard voice, and so I go back to my emails.

But when I look back and see his rose lips puckering to plant a kiss on her lipsticked lips, I feel my insides wrench and all thoughts of the box of granola bars in my drawer go out the window. My gaze lingers for a second too long allowing me to see her look back at me and wink. A piece clicks, and now I have a ‘duh moment’.

It was her. Amber messed with the file.

There’s a long bleeeeeep. Shaking my head, I rub at my eyes and stand up from the wheely chair and the long wooden table. Dragging my feet, I pry open the door and pick up the plate of an ooey gooey cinnamon roll to bring it over to the table. I unlock my phone just as there’s a click and when I look up I find a bright smile. But I find it too hard to return.

“Hey, why the long face, Grumps?” Asher pokes, but when I look back down without a response especially one including a laugh, he hums a ‘heeeeey’.

“Sorry, today’s been too long,” I reply, poking at the soft roll with my fork.

“Everything alright?”

“Sure,” I answer, looking up to find him helping himself to a cinnamon roll at the counter where they sit in a box from the bakery. I don’t even know why I grabbed one, because I can’t stomach the idea of putting it in my mouth and swallowing.

“Hey,” he says, walking over to me and waiting for me to look up. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know . . ,” I say, plopping my chin into my hand and going back to playing with my food.

“You were fine when we talked last, did something happen between then and now?” he questions, waiting for me to answer, but I don’t. And with a sigh he says, “did something happen with Amber?”

I don’t want to and I don’t know how I do, but I nod. And then my lips part and words start pouring out. “I dug up an old case file for Harry for this new case he’s working on. It had a ton of stuff from the trial and prelim stuff- you know the usual. I left it on his desk when Amber was in there, and then he comes to me after his meeting and says the pictures from the file were missing and that I lost them. But I looked over the file before I left the basement, and everything was there, Ash. I saw the photos with my own eyes, and they were there when I put that file on his desk,” I drown on, words coming hot and fast and so does the dryness in my throat that appears out of nowhere. Come on, Becky, don’t cry now. “She took them out and did something with them, knowing that it was my job to get that file to him, and also knowing how pissed he would be that they were missing. Plus she knows full well that he already hates me, so it’s just fuel to the fire … I know it’s a longshot, but that’s the only thing I can think of, and with how much she seems to hate me it makes sense.”

“It’s not a longshot, I believe you … Did you tell any of this to Harry?” he replies, hand resting on the back of my chair as his soft eyes stay on mine.

A shake moves my head, and I tear my gaze away to look back to the roll. “No, he wouldn’t believe me. She’s his perfect little angel. He didn’t even do anything when I told him that one night how she came into his office and started screaming at me, so what would be the point now?” I answer, blinking hard and letting out a heavy sigh that gives the feeling that tears aren’t far behind. Please no.

“Becky, you have to tell him. He can’t just go on thinking that you messed up the file when it was her fault. You shouldn’t take the blame when it isn’t yours.”

“I know and I want to, but he’s back to hating me lately. I-I’m so sick of it, Ash, he treats me like shit and still expects me to answer his every beck and call. He’s so moody, and on top of that, there’s his stupid girlfriend. First, she just about harasses me and now she’s trying to sabotage me or something,” I recount to him, letting my head fall into my hands as hot tears slowly trickle down my cheeks.

“Hey hey, it’s ok. I know it’s a load of shit, but it’ll be ok, Becky… As much as I’d hate it, i-if you’re not happy here then you should find something better, than having to put up with his shit. I’m so sorry, none of this is fair at all.”

“Thanks, Ash,” I reply, voice muffled against my wet arm. I don’t know what else to say. “I don’t know what to do,” I finish, lifting my head and swiping a finger across my cheeks right as the door to the break room opens. Hurriedly wiping the rest of the tears away, I look down and away to cast the attention from me, but when I look back up I know I was too late when I see the look on their face.

“Hey, I uh- there’s sumbody on line three for you. I guess ‘s important,” the slow words fall from his lips that I can’t look at without thinking of them being on hers, and her manicured fingers running through those dark curls and along those tattooed arms.

“Yeah thanks,” I reply quietly, saying a soft goodbye to Asher before dumping my untouched cinnamon roll into the bin on my way out the door. Harry a few steps ahead of me. And my cheeks red as a tomato.

After a little while, it’s evident that he’s slowed down for me and even more so when he comes up behind me as I take a seat back at my desk. But I don’t understand. A nervous ‘hey’ is all that leaves his lips, before I interrupt him and pick up the phone with the usual greeting. I pretend not to see him falter there for a second biting his lip before stuffing his hands away in his pockets and walking off like there was more he wanted to say.

But I’d much rather talk to this stranger on the phone than to him.

“Seriously!” I groan through my teeth, itching to pick up my foot and let it swing but I resist. A heavy sigh leaves my lips and I whip around leaving the scene of the crime, or more so the disaster.

With a purpose in my step, I’m on a mission as I nearly stomp through the floor in search of that baby face and those glasses. Out of the corner of my eye I see a flash of yellow, and when I look in that direction I come up with nothing. But I’m glad.

“Hey, Matt, just the guy I’m looking for!” I exclaim, painting on a smile.

“Oh hey, Becky. What’s up?” Matt the IT guy replies, stubble evident on his cleft chin as his round cheeks bunch together with a smile. A whisper of chest hair poking out from under his checkered green button down that hugs his round shape.

“The uh printer is messing with me again.”

“I hope you didn’t kick it this time,” he quips and I laugh along with him as I follow him back to the print room.

“No, I resisted,” I reply, going along with his joke as I watch him sign into the little touch screen in charge of the printer.

Minutes pass of staring into the distance as Matt dinks around with the printer, a beep here and a beep there while I stand there awkwardly not knowing what to do. After a couple more minutes, Matt ever so kindly hands me the documents I printed and I’m back to my desk and back to staring at the dwindling list for this week. I feel the plop of my heart plummeting into my stomach when my eyes land on the next task that doesn’t have a check.

- Filing.

No, this can’t be happening, again, I tell myself although I clearly remember the last time I did it and how little I got done. I try my best to resist letting my eyes roll into the back of my head, but it’s hard. It’s a feat in and of itself. I try to recollect my breathing and myself, but it’s hard.

With imaginary weights tied around my ankles with chains, I readjust the heavy crates digging into my arms and I stop in front of his godawful door. With a preparatory breath, I juggle the weight of the full crates onto one arm as I knock on his door with the other one. Bracing myself, I stand there patiently and wait. And wait. With a sigh of relief, I twist the handle to find it open and nothing but air sitting at his desk. YES! Giving the door a little push, I let it close behind me and I walk over to the object of my nightmares. Just about.

I’ve made it halfway through the song list on my phone by the time lunch rolls around, but I haven’t even organized a quarter of these damned things. The rumbles of my stomach threaten to bounce off the walls of Harry’s office, as dark gray clouds move in on the other side of his floor to ceiling windows.

The chorus of a John Mayer song fills the room as I settle another small stack of organized files into the last to the bottom drawer, relieved but wishing it was more and not so little. An excited click! cuts into my jam session as my focus is severed from the new pile I plucked from the crates. I look up and over, fearing the worst and knowing that whatever I get won’t be good and can’t be good.

Harry doesn’t even bother a glance at me as he storms into the room looking to be on a mission himself, booking it over to his closet and that’s when I stop looking.

“Yer tha most jumpiest person ‘ve eva met, ya know that?” he rasps, the clink and clatter of the wooden hangers holding his most prized possessions mixing in with my music much to my dislike. I was hoping I could get in and out of here without having to bump into him.

“Yeah, I’m well aware,” I answer, hearing something in his tone like sarcasm, but I don’t want to mistake it and dig myself even farther than I already am. You can’t play mean one day and then go and play nice another, it doesn’t work like that.

The song ends and switches to another that I cling to as to avoid the awkwardness floating in the room, the voice of Matt Willis from Busted pouring from my phone as I try to focus on the files. But it’s hard as I feel his stare on the back of my neck, for some crazy reason I can’t put a name to.

By the last words of the song he’s gone, but it’s not soon enough. And the whole time he was behind me trying to find whatever jacket or scarf, I didn’t get even one file done. My head too wrapped up in my thoughts about him, thoughts too twisted the song couldn’t even drown out.

My hands are itching and my stomach is jumping as the seconds slowly tick away on the screen, and they’re practically ripping open the door when it bleepsssss at the zero. Getting comfy in the wheely chair at the head of the table I’ve claimed as my own, I shovel a spoonful of last night’s leftover lasagna past my lips as Netflix loads on my phone. I do that weird chew-carefully-with-my-mouth-open thing as the hot sauce and noodles try their damndest to burn my tongue. Thumbing a spot of sauce from the corner of my mouth, I tap on the next episode of American Horror Story excitedly and lean back to enjoy my break from my worst nightmare that is filing Harry’s shit built up over the last few years.

The story of the all-girl witch coven went by too fast and so did my leftovers, landing me back in Harry’s office luckily to my lonesome and listening to some random song. My head begins to hurt after looking at all of the tabs the color of the rainbow. With a sigh, I start making piles based on the color of the tabs, and I find out I suddenly hate the color green.

The rest of my day looked about the same, and so did the next day. Friday. The last day of this ever so long week. Just one more day, and then I get to have two of them all to myself. Two glorious days away from this place and away from him. And away from her, after being in her line of fire for this past week. First, the file thing and ratting on me about talking to Asher, then little things throughout the week as she made her appearance every day and made my existence more of a living hell. Stopping by my desk to ask for Harry and putting her hand down wrongly on accident and hanging up on the person I was talking to. Bumping into me out of nowhere and making me spill my coffee everywhere including all over myself.

Slowly, my courage grew as the filing seemed to get a little easier, and before I knew it I was past the halfway mark. And only a few songs left on my phone unlistened to. And my secret box of Cheez-Its giving up on me.

My finger floats across the screen, stabbing my number in before pushing the door open to leave the stuffy breakroom with cutie Evan Peters hot on my mind. With a spring in my step and caffeine once again flowing through my veins, I point my feet back to his hallway as a hum leaves my lips. A phone rings behind me from one of the cubiclers, somebody laughs and my phone dings with a new message. To this day, I still don’t really get what they do. All I can remember from my rushed tour with Harry, is something along the lines of “e’rybody ‘s pretty much assigned t’ their own department, answering calls an’ doin’ shit fer them - whether it be Financial, Real Estate, Immigration, Criminal, Personal Injury, Corporate, Med Malpractice, Family, Contracts, Civil, General or a li’l bit’o all like me.” The new text appears on my screen as I twist the handle to his door, reading the first few words of Skye’s text about going out of town for the weekend with some new guy. My eyes glance over the rest of her words as I walk into his office mindlessly

Thud!

I both feel it and hear it this time. Wondering if I ran into the wall or into one of the many pieces of furniture adorning his office, I lift my head quickly and almost jump. Again. Out of nowhere my heart begins to race, wanting to run me out of here. And I can’t blame it.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” the voice belonging to the body I just ran into barks at me. I mutter a small apology, pressing the lock button on my phone and stowing it away in my back pocket just in time to hear a ‘pft’ come from the other person in the room. The room that was empty the last time I was in here roughly half an hour ago.

“What are you even doing in here anyways?”

“I’m doing filing for Harry,” I reply to her annoyed, wishing to add in a ‘what does it look like I’m doing’, but I save it for good measure. But boy oh boy is the temptation there. “What are you doing here? Harry’s not even here today.”

“What does it matter to you. This is my boyfriend’s office, I can be here whenever I like and whyever I like,” Amber responds, adjusting her bleached curls on the shoulders of her pink peacoat. Yeah okay, I’m pretty sure ‘whyever’ isn’t really a word, but go ahead I guess.

A shallow ‘fine’ jumps from my lips as I walk back to my corner where my work sits. But I have a feeling I’m not going to get a chance to start it again.

“I thought I told you the last time that you’re not allowed in here,” she bites back, words jumping at me like knives with the way that she says them so snarkily.

“Harry said I can be here. I’m doing my job.”

“I said you’re not allowed in here, so um get out!” she exclaims, and all of a sudden I feel a pair of claws dig into my arm. Whipping my head over, I find her hand wrapped around my arm.

“Get your hand off of me,” I snap, eyes knitted together and my mouth hanging open in a large ‘O’. Ripping her hand from my arm, I step away from her still feeling the sting of her nails digging into my skin through my shirt. Wow, somebody needs to request a different style at the nail salon next time.

“Oh I didn’t even touch you,” she argues, twisting her features into a snotty look that looks too similar to her resting face. “Now get out!”

“No! I’m doing what Harry asked, maybe you should get out.”

“You’re unbelievable, I can’t believe Harry’s even kept you around with your backtalk and all of the times he complains about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sacks you sooner or later, he doesn’t even like you anyways,” she retorts with those beady dark eyes pointed at me.

For a moment I let her words get the best of me, I let myself believe what vile things she says about the way Harry feels about me. And it’s a few seconds too long, allowing her claws to meet my chest, taking the fabric of my expensive dress with her as she drags me towards the door. But it’s not so much dragging as it is throwing me onto the ground by the door, making her point loud and clear.

I land hard on my side, and crack my head on the trim on the wall at the base. Wincing hard, I find my bottom lip between my teeth and soon feel a warmth trickle into my mouth along with the unmistakable metallic taste of blood. My own blood. I swipe my thumb along my lip, pulling it away to see the whole pad of my thumb coated in red. It’s far past crying time as I slowly look up at Amber to find her stepping up to me to yank me up by the arms. With my blood seething at her hands being on me and my heart galloping away in my ears, I push at her and away from me. Her hand slips somehow and knocks her back in the face much to my pleasure, but when she straightens in a matter of seconds and looks back at me shocked with a line of red much similar to my own above her lip, I know that wasn’t good. Even though a notch in my forehead throbs with a harsh stinging to it.

“Get out!” she screams at me, pushing me out the door and almost making me fall on my face. Once again. Using my hands like a little kid to get back up on my feet, I stumble down the hallway mindlessly not knowing where I’m going until I feel my feet working against me and back in the direction I came. Why oh why.

Throwing the door open a second after it met its hinges, I stomp back into the room to find her wiping at the small beads of blood collecting above her lip. Yeah you ain’t got nothing on me. “You know, I forgot to ask just now and you know the time before that and before that, what the hell is your problem with me?!” I roar breathlessly, feeling a pain in my chest I wouldn’t be surprised at being a heart attack, or something akin to that.

“Nothing, get out of my face!”

“What, before you fucking assault me again?” I reply, wiping my mouth to find even more blood but it’s no surprise as the taste coats every millimeter of the inside of my mouth.

“Pft, ‘assault you’. Yeah right, I didn’t even touch you. And who would believe you anyways?” she snarls, a nasty smile contorting her impossibly full lips as her snake eyes dig into my skull. Her next words send chilling shivers down my spine, the coldness seeping into my chest and writhing around my heart, “I could just as easily say that you assaulted me.” And with that her long legs start to move towards me, catching me off guard to let her push me into the wall as she leaves the room. Because apparently saying ‘get out of my way’ is too much work. I see somebody has a hard time using her words.

The click clack of her heels on the tile floor drill into my throbbing head, and only when they start to become faint and then disappear altogether do I stumble out of his office and down the hallway mindlessly without an idea as to where to go. If I go onto main and back to my desk, people will notice and stare at the gash spewing blood on my lip. And they’ll stare even harder and maybe even laugh- definitely laugh when they see me sobbing, because I’m hardly out of his hall and I feel my throat starting to dry up like the Egyptian desert.

My legs feel like those Jell-O cups you’re given in the hospital after having a surgery. Wobbly, unpredictable and threatening to cave at any second. I drag my feet to the back of the hall, finding the elevator quickly and glad that for once it opens its doors within a matter of seconds and not minutes. I can’t get off the sketchy thing fast enough, welcoming the musty smell of sawdust that begins to surround me. Stumbling through the piles of sawdust, plastic tarps and pieces of wood, I finally find the bathroom at the other side of the hall, untouched from the sawdust. Slamming the door shut, I twist the lock with a satisfying click and brave myself to touch the lightswitch. But at first I can’t, because I don’t want to see what looks back at me in that mirror. The image of defeat painted all over my face with splashes of red and most likely faint blue, all because of her. My back hits the wooden door and I slide down it into a slump, feeling my chest tighten before unleashing a guttural sob. Sob after sob leaves my lips, tears flowing down my cheeks and mixing with the blood pooling on my bottom lip. My forehead pulsing with a new fervor to it, and my lip hot and prickly with pain.

Bee-o!

I don’t know why I do it or how, but I’m pulling my phone out of my pocket to find a new notification on my screen.

One new email.

I drag my thumb across the screen, opening the notification to find the name attached to the email through blurry eyes. My chest shrinks together and I skid the phone across the floor and away from me, with the name burned into my eyes.

Harry.

Because there’s no coincidence that he just so happened to email me a mere few minutes after his girlfriend just tried to beat me up, and possibly succeeded. My head throbs a little harder at the wonder of what his email has to say, and all of the possibilities it could be. I squeeze my eyes shut tight at the thought of how not one of those possibilities can be good.

She won.

34 notes · View notes

shimmershae · 7 years

Text

Counting Stars, Chapter 1 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl + Sophia, more).

The story continues.

The real story starts with a little girl lost in the woods.

My response to the Nine Lives "Find Your G-Spot" June challenge. Think The Princess Bride meets The Walking Dead. Sort of, lol. AU with appearances by multiple characters. Rating subject to change.

Author's Notes:

The story continues.

Counting Stars

xx1xx

He settles for some coffee, fixes himself a mug and takes it to the front porch, the wide, worn planks warm beneath his bare feet. Eyeing the wilting plants on the top step in their clay pots, he shakes his head. He’d told Mrs. McLeod they weren’t a good idea, not a practical one, at least, with him being gone so much on various jobs, but the arthritic old widow just wouldn’t be swayed, and now he’s stuck, performing life-saving measures on the pitiful petals every few weeks to avoid hurting her feelings. He adds Miracle-Gro to his ever growing, ever-evolving mental list and drains the last dregs of caffeine, scratching idly at his chest as he takes in the still-slumbering neighborhood.

<3<3<3

“I know a Mrs. McLeod!”

“Don’t say.”

<3<3<3

The mailbox catches his attention again, and he leaves his mug on the porch railing, heads down the steps.

Weeds poke up through the stones that make up the walkway, stubborn and proud. A bird, round and cheerful, flits from stone to stone ahead of him before finally deciding to take flight, darting to a low-hanging branch nearby and watching him curiously.

He grunts out a laugh. Something so small shouldn’t act so suspicious, but he supposes it’s no surprise. He’s been gone a long time, almost a month this time. Spring was just a faint scent in the air and the days were just beginning to warm last time he traveled this same pathway. Surely, he’s a stranger to his feathered friend, and that’s not all, it seems.

The house across the street, vacant since the Fords’ last, more permanent split, shows signs of new life. The overgrown flower garden that Rosita never seemed to find time for is a vibrant rainbow of color, not tamed exactly, but obviously cared for and appreciated. The shutters wear a fresh coat of paint, and a child’s bicycle rests on its side in the tidy yard.

He wonders at this new development as he gathers the various flyers and envelopes into his arms from the mailbox, bends to retrieve the rest. The mirroring clay pots resting on the top step, though, tell him he won’t have to wonder long, and so, he takes his mail and goes back inside. He’s got that list to work on, after all.

<3<3<3

“That’s it?”

“Don’t have to sound so unimpressed.”

“Where’s the princess?”

“Y’ain’t payin’ attention.”

“Am, too.”

“Patience, Baby Girl.”

“M’not a baby.”

“You gonna fuss all night or listen to the story?”

“Fine.”

“Where were we?”

“You was skipping to the good part.”

“Not so fast. Still some story to tell ‘fore then. Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“That one. Look like somebody else I know.”

“Who?”

“Never you mind ‘bout that. Think you’ll like this part, princess or not.”

“Fine.”

“That it? I’m a good mind to save my breath. Tell this story to somebody more appreciative-like.”

“M’sorry.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“Since you askin’ so nicely.”

<3<3<3

The ride into town isn’t far, and it doesn’t take him long to stock up on groceries and all the other necessities because he’s a man of simple tastes. Before he knows it, he has everything on his list taken care of but for one thing, one very important thing.

The gateway to the Greene farm stands open when he rounds that final bend in the road, Otis’s truck nearby.

He nods at the man himself, drums his fingers on the steering wheel as he lets his vehicle idle and the friendly farm hand approach.

“Good to see you made it back.”

“You thinkin’ I wouldn’t?”

Otis draws his hat down from his head, fumbles his fingers through his graying goatee. His face breaks into an amiable smile as soon as he realizes he’s being teased, in George’s deadpan way, and he replaces his hat, the sun already high and beaming overhead and the Georgia heat making sweat bead on his brow. Noticing the bags in the floor of the truck, he doesn’t waste any more time, directing him onward. “She’s up at the main house with the girls. Doc Greene thought she’d benefit from the company. She’s missed you something awful.”

“Missed her,” he admits.

Otis doesn’t make a big deal out of the confession. He just nods and slaps his palm against the truck’s sun-warmed door. “Best be gettin’ on then. Might take you awhile to convince that young-un to part with her.”

“Thanks.”

<3<3<3

“Does George have a little girl? Is it Princess Sophia?”

“Got a one-track mind, Baby Girl.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do, too.”

“Do not. I didn’t even ask…”

“Didn’t ask what?”

“Nothin’.”

“Ain’t nothin’. Know you. Don’t give me those eyes. Might as well spit it out.”

“Is George’s Doc Greene our Doc Greene?”

“Didn’t know he was ours, but maybe. Just gonna have to listen and find out for yourself.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“I’m waitin’.”

<3<3<3

The little one cries when he drives up, fat tears welling in those too-big eyes of hers and her shiny blond ponytail shaking as she hurries inside. Ms. Annette just shakes her head at him and smiles because it doesn’t take two seconds after he’s opened that creaky-old door before he’s got his arms and his lap full.

“That dog knows the sound of your truck.”

“Everybody in King County knows the sound of his truck, Annette.”

He ducks his head, dodges the most exuberant of the canine’s slobbering kisses, but he can’t miss them all and he soon gives up trying. “Thanks for lookin’ after her.”

“You know our Bethie’s always been partial to her, has been since the beginning. It wasn’t no imposition, Son. You know that. Fact of the matter is, there’s been a time or two while you’ve been gone that I’ve experienced some regrets.”

He doesn’t press the man for more because he doesn’t have to. He knows exactly what he’s referring to. He rears his head back to look into a pair of intelligent brown eyes, and he’s sent back to that very first moment, when she was nothing more than a tiny, shivering wet ball of black and white fur abandoned in a road-side ditch. One small whimper toward him and pink swipe of her timid tongue, and he hadn’t the heart to leave her behind as others already had. He’d wrapped her up in his flannel over-shirt and turned the heat on high blast, making the old truck sputter and groan all the way to the veterinarian’s country-side practice. The little one had been there that day, and she’d fallen in love, straight away. Fate and Doc Greene, though, had had other plans, and it wasn’t even a week later that he was puppy-proofing his whole house. That little bit of fluff had made coming home worth it ever since. Still, sometimes he wonders if he’s doing right by her, leaving her so often and for so long. Ms. Annette kindly intervenes before he can voice those thoughts.

“Seems to me Tsu made her own choice a long time ago.”

Her husband echoes his agreement with a grin. “Reckon you’re right. She’s been missing you.”

“I heard.” If he sounds a little happy about that fact, well. He missed her, too. Giving the dog’s ears a playful tug, he smirks when she barks at him. He looks down when he feels a soft touch on his arm. It’s the older girl, tomboyish and independent where the little one is soft, and she looks up at him with eyes as green as gems.

“Stay for a little bit. Please. Just long enough for Bethie to see that Tsu’s happy.”

“I’d like to, but I got groceries needin’ to be put in the fridge.”

Ms. Annette comes to her stepdaughter’s aid, closing her hands over the girl’s sturdy shoulders and giving them a fond squeeze. “I can put those in our fridge for you, just for a little bit, and you can join us for a bite of lunch.”

“When’s the last time you had a home-cooked meal, Son?”

His stomach growls before he can formulate a response. It really has been a while. Gruffly, he agrees, “Alright. Sure you don’t mind?”

“Mind? You know you two are always welcome.”

<3<3<3

“It is our Doc Greene!”

“What makes you so sure ‘bout that?”

“Because he’s nice.”

“That all you’re basin’ your assumption on?”

“What’s ‘ssumption mean?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. How else you know it’s the same Doc Greene?”

“He has a Bethie, too. But she’s not little.”

“Maybe she’s not little anymore.”

“Maybe he’s not our Doc Greene.”

“Confusin’ you?”

“No.”

“Sure?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“You sleepy yet?”

“No.”

“Could swallow whole watermelons with that yawn.”

“M’not yawnin’.”

“Sure ‘bout that, Baby Girl?”

“Don’t stop the story. George still hasn’t seen his presents or met the princess yet.”

“You callin’ my story borin’? Done told you…”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“And chocolate sauce?”

“Lots.”

“Alright. Don’t want you bein’ disappointed though. Presents ain’t always what you think they are.”

“Huh?”

“Just listen and let me tell my story.”

“’kay.”

“Sure you ain’t sleepy?”

“Real sure.”

“Real real sure?”

“Real real real.”

“Alright.”

“Finally.”

<3<3<3

He forgets about the mail until he’s back home, groceries packed away and Tsu lazing around on the couch like she never left it, tuckered out from a sun-drenched afternoon filled with games of tag on the Greene farm. He sits at the table and sorts it into piles, and sure enough, most of it’s junk. Some of it’s not, though, and he takes care of the bills first. He hesitates over the envelope from West Georgia Correctional Facility, but in the end, he chooses to let it wait. It’s been a long first day back already, and he’s not sure he’s physically or emotionally ready to deal with picking out the truth between the lines of his brother’s words. Soon, he comes to the bottom of the pile and he frowns. It seems Stookey has struck again, the proof right there in front of him and addressed to one Mrs. Carol Peletier, apparently the proud new owner of Sergeant Ford’s old place.

<3<3<3

“What’s a ‘rectional cility?”

“It’s a place where…know what? It ain’t important.”

“But what is it? What do people do there?”

“They learn to be good again.”

“Were they bad before?”

“Some of ‘em. Some of ‘em just got lost.”

“Like that time Gabby got lost and we found her up in a tree?”

“Not exactly.”

“How then?”

“That’s a conversation for another time, Baby Girl.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Not a big girl either. Not yet.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No. You’re in between. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. You’ll grow up soon ‘nough.”

“How soon?”

“Too soon.”

“How soon is too soon?”

“Blink of an eye. ‘Fore you know it, you won’t want me tellin’ you stories no more.”

“That ain’t true.”

“Why?”

“Just ain’t.”

“Tuck your toes in, Baby Girl.”

“M’snug as a bug in a rug.”

“That so?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good. Just a little bit more and that’s it for tonight. We’ll save the rest of the story for later.”

“M’kay.”

“Sleepy, ain’t you?”

“Don’t wanna be.”

“Know. You’ll have sweet dreams. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

<3<3<3

The sun is setting before he finally works up the nerve to walk over there. The crickets are out in full force, and that quiet little girl from three doors down is chasing after lightning bugs with her dad, mason jars in hand. He can’t remember her name. It’s short and foreign-sounding, and he wonders if the family are travelers, must be with a name like that, but it’s a fleeting thought because it doesn’t take long at all to walk up those three wide steps. He clenches the envelope between his sweaty palms and swallows. He doesn’t have a chance to knock on the door before it is pulled open and another little girl and a woman spill through it, nearly plowing into him. There’s a blanket tucked beneath the woman’s arm and a melting popsicle in the child’s hands, and they look just as startled or more so than he feels, and it takes a few moments before any of them rediscover the power of speech. The little girl reaches for the woman’s free hand, and that seems to do the trick.

“I’m sorry. You are?”

“M’your neighbor,” he offers.

“My neighbor? Oh. You think I’m Carol.”

“You’re not?”

A small voice butts in then, soft and shy and apologetic all at once. “Aunt Andrea. You promised.”

The woman stoops to the little girl’s level, hands over the blanket with a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you pick us out a good spot for counting while I talk to the nice man, okay? I’ll be right there.”

They both turn to watch the little girl scamper across the yard and arrange the blanket just so. He smirks a little when he sees her lick a trail up her arm, the popsicle fast dwindling in her hand and painting her skin in cherry stickiness. His amusement fast fades when he catches the woman watching him with hawkish blue-green eyes, her mouth curling at the corners. Feeling uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he glances away for a brief moment, shoves the envelope into her hands. “Postman left Mrs. Peletier’s mail in my box by mistake.”

“Thank you for bringing it by.”

“Ain’t nothin’.”

She laughs a little, the sound not unkind. She crosses her arms across her chest and considers him.

He doesn’t miss those eyes of hers glance downward at his left hand. He can feel the usual heat of embarrassment creep along his skin in response, and he burrows his hands deep in his pockets, nods his head. “Just wanted to make sure she got her mail. I’ll just…over there.” Her voice stops him before he can fully turn around.

“You’re the man with the dog.”

“Lots of people in this neighborhood with dogs,” he answers. He’s not sure why, though. It’s just prolonging this whole uncomfortable encounter and he wants nothing more than to escape to his own little piece of peace, close that door behind him. The woman has other ideas. She just keeps talking.

“But your dog is no ordinary dog.”

Another woman steps outside, and the two link hands. Her eyes are just as deep and warm as the color of her skin, and her smile bright as she regards him. “Definitely not an ordinary dog. Not according to Sophia.”

“She does tricks. I saw her, Aunt ‘Chonne.”

He looks down, surprised to find the little girl at his side and staring up at him in something akin to secondhand wonder. There are freckles on her pale skin, all across her cheeks and her button nose. She’s small and she’s delicate, and he’s sure she’d weigh next to nothing in his arms. It’s a strange thought, one that finally spurs him into action. “Not tricks. She just listens. Make sure your mama gets her mail, ‘kay?”

“Yes, Sir,” the little girl solemnly promises.

It takes less time for him to cross the distance this time, but his escape still isn’t quick enough.

“She’s not married! In case you’re curious about her. Carol.”

“Andrea!”

<3<3<3

“Sleep, Baby Girl. There’ll be more tomorrow.”

End Notes:

Thanks for reading!!!

Feedback would be wonderful.

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turniitoff-blog1 · 7 years

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okay, well, oops this is long ... i guess tessa likes to talk. this is kinda interview style ( except for the first question )... like if you were to sit down w/ tessa as a youngin’ and ask her these questions yourself ... which is why she’s hesitant to answer some of them. i guess she’s afraid you’re gonna tattle lol.

Q: how do you represent your label? what is your temperament?

A: this is only question i’m going to answer in a different format because i don’t think tessa would understand. tessa’s label is ‘the enigma’ ... and she’s just that. hard to understand ... hard to figure out ... you never know what she’s actually thinking or what her reasons for doing certain things are ( her motivation is usually pretty clear - by reason i mean her way of/approach ). when everything with candle cove happened, this got worse ... she started to have intense intrusive thoughts about how much POWER the show had; she was curious about the inner workings and felt guilty because of it. her temperament is melancholic if we go by the O4TS. tessa ( child!tessa ) is fairly quiet amongst her peers ( with adults & close friends not so much lol ) ... she’s a good follower, constantly trying to impress ... to do something that’s good and BIG enough that someone will notice. she likes attention in theory, though ... if someone praises her ( she’s not used to it ) it’s nice for, like, ... a second and a half and then she’s uncomfortable and will try to change the subject ... sink back into the shadows. being lowkey invisible has it’s perks sometimes, ya know. i feel like i didn’t answer this fully so i’ll ‘prolly add more / post a HC later.

Q: favorite subject or after school activity?

A: ‘ science! i -- i like science ‘cos i like t’make things an also i like t’do that after school also. well ... ’ the child shrugs, leaning to pick at a scab on her knee, ‘ i like t’make stuff explode when daddy an’ jake are at jake’s games! an ‘sides ... i’m sleepin’ by the time they get home so i don’t even get yelled at! ’

Q: what do you want to be when you grow up?

A: ‘ i wanna work for NASA ... i wanna make a great big spaceship, y’know, like y’see on - on, on TV an’ i wanna make one that’s real big. ’ she gestures, holding her arms out as far as they’d go, ‘ ‘least this big. an’ i wanna make it so, so that anybody who wants t’go on a space trip can an’ ... an’ even the whole world if they want. don’t even gotta pay money for it. ’

Q: what are your favorite books, television shows, and movies?

A: ‘ uh, well, i don’t watch tv ‘lot durin’ football season but when i do, i like t’watch three’s company an’ cheer’s. i like t’fold pages of books in dad’s library when he’s not home. sometimes i find magazines in jake’s room but i don’t touch those ‘cos i don’t want him t’get mad. ’ she takes a deep breath and exhales with a giggle, ‘ i like all movies ‘specially stand by me an -- an’ oh, i like annie, too. ’

Q: what makes you happy? what makes you sad?

A: ‘ m’happy when jake wins games ‘cos dad’s happy an’ so is jake, i like sitting on the driveway after it rains a lot. i like to dig holes in the backyard an’, an’ i put stuff in the holes n’ try t’find what i buried after ‘least two weeks. i like the cat that runs ‘round the neighborhood - i’m their mom. makin’ stuff in dad’s garage makes me happy ... specially after i found out how t’use the fish saw. ’ she frowns to set the mood. ‘ makes me sad when i gotta make myself dinner but there aren’t anymore noodles left. makes me sad when i make somethin’ an’ it doesn’t work or dad n’ jake tell me it’s not good. makes me sad at school when they run outta pudding cups ... and sittin’ by myself outside makes me sad, too. makes me REAL sad when we gotta go grocery shoppin’ an’ jake STEPS ON the white squares ‘cos that’s lava an’ your not s‘pposed to. ’

Q: what is your favorite thing to do?

A: ‘ my favorite thing t’do is create an’ learn. ’

Q: have any pets or favorite animals?

A: ‘ no pets but uh -- i, oh, i can’t pick a favorite! i do like, um, big cats! they’re juss’ like, well ... not juss’ like, but real ... some’ah the things that, that they do is real close t’tha things that lil’ cats do, too! ’

Q: what is something that makes your family special?

A: ‘ um, we got secret family recipes? an’ ... no mom? we clean up the backyard and catch fireflies together sometimes! oh -- and dad let’s us climb on the furniture ... s’real fun! ’

Q: do you have imaginary friends?

A: ' they’re not imaginary! ’ they were. ‘ they juss’ like to hide ‘cos they’re shy so i do the talkin’. i’ve got three friends that play with me if i’m feeling sad or sittin’ by myself. they go to another school in a tree somewhere, but i don’t have a car so i can’t visit 'em -- but they come an’ visit me everyday! ’

Q: who is your best friend? who do you not like?

A: ‘ i like bein’ ‘round adam the most, so, adam’s my best friend ... even though i know he thinks i’m a lil’ weird. that’s okay ‘cos i like that he thinks that and i think i’m teachin’ him some stuff even if he pretends to not want to learn it. ’ she shrugs, ‘ i’d be real lonely without him. and, and i don’t like, ’ she wiggles a little bit, crossing her arms with a huff - very obviously worked up, ‘ i don’t like people who are mean t’him or t’me or anybody else that sits alone at lunch sometimes. I’M the only one that’s allowed to do that. ’

Q: who do you want to be friends with but haven’t yet, and why not?

A: ‘ i dunno, ’ she shrugs quietly, ‘ i don’t wanna make new friends an’ then have ‘um disappear or get hurt, y’know? that would make me feel real sad. ’

Q: who was your first crush?

A: ‘ uh, ’ she drops her head and plays with the hem of her shirt, ‘ kevin bacon. ’

Q: what is the hardest thing about being a kid?

A: ‘ when, when, when adults won’t listen t’you ‘cos they think you got nothin’ important to say! ’ she huffs, ‘ jokes on them ‘cos i got lot’s’a important things to say! i’m gonna create a new planet one day and none of ‘em will be allowed. ’

Q: if you had three wishes, what would they be?

A: ‘ t’have mom back ‘cos she could make dad pay more attention, i think. t’make jake play an actual fun sport that we could both play, maybe... and, um, for the, for those kids t’be okay. ‘specially ryan’s sister. he’s not doin’ good. ’

Q: what is one thing that scares you?

A: ‘ sometimes i think bad stuff and i get nervous that other people can hear it when i’m thinkin’ it but, to help myself not be scared i say ‘if you can hear me ... cough!’ in my head ... which only helps me not be scared if nobody coughs ... oh and also nail guns, horace horrible, blue gummy worms, the drain, ’ she’s been afraid of drains since she could remember, ‘ and hard pretzels. ’

Q: if you had to give away all of your toys but one, which one would you keep?

A: ‘ i’d give ‘way all of my toys ‘cept for my gee ‘cos i sleep with them every night. ’ gee was a stuffed fox with part of tessa’s baby blanket wrapped around it’s neck. ‘ and ... don’t tell dad or jake, but i put a secret compartment in them ... if you reach in right behind gee’s ears, i got a secret hiding spot there for lots of stuff. ’

Q: where do you see yourself in ten years?

A: ‘ i’m gonna be living in a house that i built all by myself with two dogs and one rabbit. i’m going to have a garage on the side of my homemade house with every tool i could ever want ... ever. i’m gonna build my friend’s houses too! ’

Q: what is one of your favorite memories?

A: ‘ oh, oh -- at the beach two years ago. i built, i built a sandcastle on dad’s arms and foot while he was ASLEEP! he -- he had no idea until he woke up! he didn’t know! he slept through all of it! i did a real good job, though ... we got ice cream after, too. it was a real good day. i found a lot of shells that day, too. i still have ‘em. yep. they’re sittin’ in a lil’ jar in my room. ’

Q: what do you wish you didn’t have to do at all?

A: ‘ walk in the hallway at school ‘cos that’s a lot’ah eyes. i don’t like it. it feels like, like y’know those lil’ ants, the red ones? ’ she holds her hand out, palm flat and facing upward. she begins pinching at the skin, ‘ the ones that bite? it feels like those are crawling all up and down my body, biting me whenever they feel like it when i’m walking through the hallway at school. ’

Q: from the time you wake up until the time you go to bed, what would the perfect day look like?

A: ‘ it would be a ... hm ... it would be a day in the spring time and i would be allowed to wake up whenever i wanted ... ‘prolly around 10? and i would come downstairs and i would make a ham and cheese sandwich with mustard on one side ... EXTRA crust. i’d eat that with a glass of ice milk and then i’d fall back ‘sleep on the couch ‘till 12. after my nap i’d wake up and go outside and i’d play outside allllllll day. ALL day ... with tools and PAINT and i’d have all of the supplies i could ever need! i could ‘prolly build a CITY with all of that time! and then ... and then i’d come inside when it started to get dark and then i’d eat dinner ... chicken cutlets with applesauce and then i’d go back outside to ‘prolly count the stars. there are so many! don’t want any of ‘em to feel left out. ’

EXTRA CANDLE COVE EDITION:

Q: what was your first impression of candle cove?

A: ‘ scary, ’ she shakes her head and shuts her eyes, lifting a hand to cover one ear, ‘ real scary ... but i hadn’t ever seen a show like it before so ... i guess i liked it since i kept watchin’? ’

Q: favorite and least favorite character?

A: ‘ i DON’T like horace horrible ... i don’t like the shape of his head ... looks like a lightbulb ... which makes no sense ‘cos he’s NOT a GOOD IDEA. ’ she shrugs, ‘ my favorite was pirate percy ‘cos i wanted to help them a lot. ’

Q: why did or didn’t you stop watching candle cove?

A: ‘ i didn’t stop watchin’ ‘cos ... i wanted to learn ... more, ’ it feels horrible to say ... like she’d forgotten about the dead children. ‘ the group ... y’know, we were all payin’ attention to the tapes ... that’s all we paid attention to for a real long time. i juss’ wanted t’know why ... y’know ... what if ... i dunno ... i could control people like that ... juss’ made me wonder ‘bout it, is all. ’

Q: why didn’t you tell anyone about candle cove, or why didn’t the person you told tell anyone else?

A: ‘ ‘cos we promised! we promised not to tell anybody and i wasn’t gonna be the one that broke that promise. my dad wouldn’t’a done anything anyways. ’

Q: a recurring nightmare you have featuring candle cove?

A: ‘ almost every night i have a real bad scary dream about horace horrible coming into my room and sittin’ on my legs so i can’t move. he, he says he’s gonna hurt dad or jake if i make any noise an’ ... i don’t think i’d be able t’make noise even if i wanted to ‘cos, uh, y’know your body feels real heavy. anyways, he holds me on my bed and he tells my mom to come into my room and she’s got big claws for hands and she says real bad stuff to me ... real bad ... and, and i feel like she really means it. ’ she drops her gaze and hugs herself with her arms, ‘ an’, an’ mom, ’ she takes a finger and drags it hard against her arm and then her neck, ‘ mom ... mom kills me eh - ... she kills me every time an’ ... once i’m almost dead s’like ... i’m floatin’ ‘bove my body ‘cos then i see me on the bed bloody and mom and horace are laughing at me. ’

#ccove.task #bee tw #so i guess we learned tessa didn't ... have a lot of pals growing up lol #like even w/ all the CC stuff goin' down n even tho she saw The Group often she was just ... so .. QuieT!!!!!!#except for those lil' bursts of confidence that ... never lasted long @ all #also important to mention tessa misses ... like ... a decent amount of school sometimes bc of those nightmares bc she tries not 2 sleep 2 #juSt avoid it u know #i'll probably add the memoir in a diff post because i .... cannot F'ing PICK .... which one i want to do so i might ..d o a bunch and just #put them in one post lol

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