Once Upon A Lie-Exploring Canon
For a few seconds before she pushes the plunger down, she seriously contemplates where her life has gone.
Once upon a time, she was somebody's little girl.
"MANDY, get in here, NOW," he yells, and she comes, her eyes fixed on the ground, biting her bottom lip like she can somehow soothe the fear she feels with the tiny touch of pain.
He hardly says a word to her, just swats her bottom hard and points to the closet. She hates the closet, and if she thought it would do any good, she'd beg him not to put her there. Especially if he's going to lock it. Several times he's forgotten her there for hours at a time... Once, it was almost a day.
Once, she'd been the apple of someone's eye.
"Stupid little slut." The voice is cold. Detached. Perfect for this ice queen mother. She's always been beautiful to look at, but impossible to touch. Not that she'd want to touch her anyway. Mandy learned young that even gentle touches could hurt when they left you cold as a concrete floor in mid winter.
She doesn't say a word, simply bows her head, knowing better than to cry out when her mother slaps her quick and hard in the back of the head, knocking her head against the table.
"Thought I wouldn't find out, didn't you Mandy?" It is this cold cruelty of her name said this way that will come back, years from now. The pinched mouth forming the word, the somehow shrill sound, like wind through winter-dead trees. "How long have you been FUCKING him?"
She looks up, her own heart turning as cold and hard as stone. She doesn't answer. It's not true, but it no longer matters.
Once, she'd been loved.
"Oh fuck yes... like that. NO, not like... Christ, Mandy, you can't do anything right." He pulls back, glaring at her, his hand coming out to hit her hard across the face.
It stings. Burns. She can hardly feel it. She looks up, waiting for permission to continue. She can't deal with being arrested today. She'll do better, she always does, if only he gives her another chance.
"Stand up. Turn around."
She does, knowing it's going to hurt either way. His favorite torture, or jail. The metal around her wrists is cold, but she's still colder.
Once, she'd been beautiful.
"Come here, pretty little girl."
She turns, looking into the other woman's face. She breaks it into pieces in her mind. Eyes: brown and warm, skin: pale yellow-white, lips: pulling into a smirk. She goes and sits, looking down.
"You look cold. You cold?"
She nods, shivering for the first time. She doesn't mean to, but she does and once she does she can't seem to stop.
"I can warm you up. You wanna get warm?"
She watches with a sick fascination as the other woman draws a small baggie from her pocket, quickly setting about to fix up the drug, even pulling out a syringe. She watches even more fascinated as the woman tears off her belt and wraps it around her arm and finds a vein with practiced ease. "You should be a nurse," she says softly, surprised into almost jerking away when the other woman laughs loudly.
"They frown upon this shit." And with a push and a little grin, it's done.
For once, she's really and truly WARM.
Once upon a time...
She pushes the plunger. It no longer makes her warm. Elated, yes. Calm, yes. But she's always searching for that first warm rush. Sometimes she thinks it was all about the other woman's eyes/skin/mouth/hands.
She tries, again and again, over and over, more and more. She tries until her veins give out and she's pushing smack in between her toes. Until her skin peels from the itch she can't scratch. Until the only thing left is cold sweats and the sickly sweet-vinegar-chemical smell of heroin.
Once upon a... She doesn't believe in fairy tales.
Amanda Young
Saw Movies/Exploring Canon Universe
635 words
Once upon a time, she was somebody's little girl.
"MANDY, get in here, NOW," he yells, and she comes, her eyes fixed on the ground, biting her bottom lip like she can somehow soothe the fear she feels with the tiny touch of pain.
He hardly says a word to her, just swats her bottom hard and points to the closet. She hates the closet, and if she thought it would do any good, she'd beg him not to put her there. Especially if he's going to lock it. Several times he's forgotten her there for hours at a time... Once, it was almost a day.
Once, she'd been the apple of someone's eye.
"Stupid little slut." The voice is cold. Detached. Perfect for this ice queen mother. She's always been beautiful to look at, but impossible to touch. Not that she'd want to touch her anyway. Mandy learned young that even gentle touches could hurt when they left you cold as a concrete floor in mid winter.
She doesn't say a word, simply bows her head, knowing better than to cry out when her mother slaps her quick and hard in the back of the head, knocking her head against the table.
"Thought I wouldn't find out, didn't you Mandy?" It is this cold cruelty of her name said this way that will come back, years from now. The pinched mouth forming the word, the somehow shrill sound, like wind through winter-dead trees. "How long have you been FUCKING him?"
She looks up, her own heart turning as cold and hard as stone. She doesn't answer. It's not true, but it no longer matters.
Once, she'd been loved.
"Oh fuck yes... like that. NO, not like... Christ, Mandy, you can't do anything right." He pulls back, glaring at her, his hand coming out to hit her hard across the face.
It stings. Burns. She can hardly feel it. She looks up, waiting for permission to continue. She can't deal with being arrested today. She'll do better, she always does, if only he gives her another chance.
"Stand up. Turn around."
She does, knowing it's going to hurt either way. His favorite torture, or jail. The metal around her wrists is cold, but she's still colder.
Once, she'd been beautiful.
"Come here, pretty little girl."
She turns, looking into the other woman's face. She breaks it into pieces in her mind. Eyes: brown and warm, skin: pale yellow-white, lips: pulling into a smirk. She goes and sits, looking down.
"You look cold. You cold?"
She nods, shivering for the first time. She doesn't mean to, but she does and once she does she can't seem to stop.
"I can warm you up. You wanna get warm?"
She watches with a sick fascination as the other woman draws a small baggie from her pocket, quickly setting about to fix up the drug, even pulling out a syringe. She watches even more fascinated as the woman tears off her belt and wraps it around her arm and finds a vein with practiced ease. "You should be a nurse," she says softly, surprised into almost jerking away when the other woman laughs loudly.
"They frown upon this shit." And with a push and a little grin, it's done.
For once, she's really and truly WARM.
Once upon a time...
She pushes the plunger. It no longer makes her warm. Elated, yes. Calm, yes. But she's always searching for that first warm rush. Sometimes she thinks it was all about the other woman's eyes/skin/mouth/hands.
She tries, again and again, over and over, more and more. She tries until her veins give out and she's pushing smack in between her toes. Until her skin peels from the itch she can't scratch. Until the only thing left is cold sweats and the sickly sweet-vinegar-chemical smell of heroin.
Once upon a... She doesn't believe in fairy tales.
Amanda Young
Saw Movies/Exploring Canon Universe
635 words