Mary Sue the Aftermath
Notes: This is an epilogue of sorts. I do love my Mary Sue and I could not just leave her in bed like that. From starters, in What Mary Sue accidentally saw... she was just a flimsy girl I used as an excuse to get the gentlemen Winchester in bed. The second time she didn't even have a name, just pigtails. But she grew on me. That is why I decided to give her a proper farewell.
Mary Sue; here's looking at ya,babe.
Mary Sue dragged herself out off bed around noon. Joe would be home later, much later, if he came home at all. These over night conferences tended to be extended. But she had to make an appearance outside the door anyway, neighbours would wonder otherwise. It was all about being seen. Noticed. Keeping the façade. Mary Sue wanted to scream at them. Stupid, shallow, narrow-minded.
In the shower she tried to count the marks she had on her body. Her nipples were still swollen and she ached between her legs, both back and front. If she looked carefully, she could almost see shadows of handprints on her hips. There was a small bruise on her throat, it could be easily covered with foundation, but damn if she cared. No one 'looked' at her anymore. Not like they had done last night. All people saw these days were the expensive dresses she wore, the expensive watch on her wrist and the sparkling necklaces.
Mary Sue dressed, put on the face, every motion practiced to perfection, she didn't have to think while she did it. Automatic reflexes. Smiled at the guy next door when she went out to get the mail. She stood there for a while, by the mailbox. Watched the children play, riding their bikes up and down the street. They were laughing, crying, shouting, making noises. Alive.
She wasn't. Hadn't been for along time. The phone rang when she got back in but she ignored it. It kept ringing when she closed the door on the heat, keeping the cool inside. The a/c buzzed peacefully in the corner and when she turned her head, she could almost see Dean crouching in front of it. Of course he wasn't. She wondered what would come of this. Them. Would they sit in the bar, bragging about how they had nailed the boss's wife? The thought was not likely. They had been rough with her, made her do things, but she knew that had she said no, they would have let her be. There wasn't one thing from last night she regretted. Not one single thing.
The house was almost eerily quiet. Kitchen, she made herself a sandwich and a cup of coffee but threw it away again, she wasn't hungry. Bedroom, messed up bed, sheets tangled. She could smell them, her, in there. The sheet was still sticky in places and she had to remake the bed before Joe got home. Should do it immediately, erase what had happened. Instead she sat down, holding the sheet to her chest. Like she had done last night, when they had come to her, when she thought they were already gone.
Mary Sue slipped a hand between her legs, under the skirt. She was so very tender there, used, still a little swollen and slippery even though she had washed herself. Sitting on hard chairs was out off the question for the next few days, she should be irritated by that, that they had made her sore, but no. That thought and still feeling them, sent a jolt throughout her.
Wheels were turning, the wind changing. Mary Sue sat for a long time on the bed, holding the sheet, hand between her legs. Thinking. Evaluating. Deciding.
Mary Sue bought a car. That was the first thing she did. Joe had given her a nice, new Toyota. She hated it. Because Mary Sue didn't have anything that was truly hers. Everything were gifts from Joe. But she had some money of her own though, after her mum. She withdrew all of it and closed the account.
The car was an old Mustang -67. It would have cost her a fortune if it hadn't been so ratty and worn down. They guy at the workshop jumped with joy when she brought it in. A week later the car was fixed and functioning again. The mechanic was angry because she hadn't allowed him to shape it up too much. She liked the dents in the metal, the scruffy sun bleached paint.
Joe almost had a seizure when she brought it home. They had barely talked to each other for days. Mary Sue had avoided him the best she could. Served him dinners, been nice to his friends, gritted her teeth the last Friday when it was time for Joe to get his entertainment. That was the least she could do for him, since she was going to leave him.
The marks on her body had faded fast, too fast. But she could still feel them, their hands and mouths, everything they had done to her. She had asked Joe briefly about Dean, there was this nagging hope that he would come back. He was gone, Joe had said, had taken off the day after he had been over. Just like that, not a word, nothing, just gone. Like he had never been there.
Ghosts. Memories. That was all she would be so very soon too. Mary Sue was going to disappear. She bought new clothes. Not the nice dresses Joe liked to see her in, the ones that had the ladies at the club go green with envy. Not that she was holding them up so extremely well but the price tags; those put flame to dry grass. She had sometimes taken a small, evil, smirking pleasure in telling them what the dresses had cost. How Joe didn't spare any expenses on her. That was over now. Like she was. Done. Finished. Price tags didn't matter anymore.
The new clothes she bought; she hadn't worn anything like that since she got married. Jeans, flannel shirts, hoodies for god sake. She didn't show Joe her purchases, he didn't have to think that is wife was insane already. There would be time enough for that after she was gone. Especially when he discovered that she had taken the gun.
Mary Sue left the wedding ring on the kitchen table. She put it on top of the letter she ahd written. Cowardly, yes but she didn't have it in her to say it to his face. Her courage didn't last that far. Joe was away again, another overnight conference. She knew that all those meetings weren't always meetings. She knew he fucked hookers from time to time. Once, that had bothered her. Once, when there still had been a spark between them, when she had been young enough to believe in everlasting, pink tinted love.
Those foolish notions were long gone, just as the innocent girl she had been. Her life hadn't been hard in any way. Only detached. Her world had consisted of Joe, the club, 'lady friends', the latest fashion. There hadn't been much choice after her mama had died. She had been too young to manage by herself and Joe had come by like a knight on a stallion. Easy comes, easy goes. That knight had been gone within the year and replaced with the Joe she had spent the last eternity with.
But now; enough was enough. She closed the front door behind her for the last time. The bag she carried was light. She wore her new outfit, hadn't taken anything of what belonged to Joe. Not even a picture of him.
The car roared to life and she could feel the vibrations through the seat. There had been a few old cassette tapes in the glove compartment and she put one of them in the player. For a few moments she just sat there, listening, feeling. Life was strange sometimes. Even though all the marks were gone by now, the one inside was till there. Mary Sue knew that she would never see them again. They could have been just ghosts or figments of her fantasy, but that didn't matter. What was important was that she was back amongst the living again. She pulled out on the street, took a left just for the hell of it and she did not look back.
Mary Sue; here's looking at ya,babe.
Mary Sue dragged herself out off bed around noon. Joe would be home later, much later, if he came home at all. These over night conferences tended to be extended. But she had to make an appearance outside the door anyway, neighbours would wonder otherwise. It was all about being seen. Noticed. Keeping the façade. Mary Sue wanted to scream at them. Stupid, shallow, narrow-minded.
In the shower she tried to count the marks she had on her body. Her nipples were still swollen and she ached between her legs, both back and front. If she looked carefully, she could almost see shadows of handprints on her hips. There was a small bruise on her throat, it could be easily covered with foundation, but damn if she cared. No one 'looked' at her anymore. Not like they had done last night. All people saw these days were the expensive dresses she wore, the expensive watch on her wrist and the sparkling necklaces.
Mary Sue dressed, put on the face, every motion practiced to perfection, she didn't have to think while she did it. Automatic reflexes. Smiled at the guy next door when she went out to get the mail. She stood there for a while, by the mailbox. Watched the children play, riding their bikes up and down the street. They were laughing, crying, shouting, making noises. Alive.
She wasn't. Hadn't been for along time. The phone rang when she got back in but she ignored it. It kept ringing when she closed the door on the heat, keeping the cool inside. The a/c buzzed peacefully in the corner and when she turned her head, she could almost see Dean crouching in front of it. Of course he wasn't. She wondered what would come of this. Them. Would they sit in the bar, bragging about how they had nailed the boss's wife? The thought was not likely. They had been rough with her, made her do things, but she knew that had she said no, they would have let her be. There wasn't one thing from last night she regretted. Not one single thing.
The house was almost eerily quiet. Kitchen, she made herself a sandwich and a cup of coffee but threw it away again, she wasn't hungry. Bedroom, messed up bed, sheets tangled. She could smell them, her, in there. The sheet was still sticky in places and she had to remake the bed before Joe got home. Should do it immediately, erase what had happened. Instead she sat down, holding the sheet to her chest. Like she had done last night, when they had come to her, when she thought they were already gone.
Mary Sue slipped a hand between her legs, under the skirt. She was so very tender there, used, still a little swollen and slippery even though she had washed herself. Sitting on hard chairs was out off the question for the next few days, she should be irritated by that, that they had made her sore, but no. That thought and still feeling them, sent a jolt throughout her.
Wheels were turning, the wind changing. Mary Sue sat for a long time on the bed, holding the sheet, hand between her legs. Thinking. Evaluating. Deciding.
Mary Sue bought a car. That was the first thing she did. Joe had given her a nice, new Toyota. She hated it. Because Mary Sue didn't have anything that was truly hers. Everything were gifts from Joe. But she had some money of her own though, after her mum. She withdrew all of it and closed the account.
The car was an old Mustang -67. It would have cost her a fortune if it hadn't been so ratty and worn down. They guy at the workshop jumped with joy when she brought it in. A week later the car was fixed and functioning again. The mechanic was angry because she hadn't allowed him to shape it up too much. She liked the dents in the metal, the scruffy sun bleached paint.
Joe almost had a seizure when she brought it home. They had barely talked to each other for days. Mary Sue had avoided him the best she could. Served him dinners, been nice to his friends, gritted her teeth the last Friday when it was time for Joe to get his entertainment. That was the least she could do for him, since she was going to leave him.
The marks on her body had faded fast, too fast. But she could still feel them, their hands and mouths, everything they had done to her. She had asked Joe briefly about Dean, there was this nagging hope that he would come back. He was gone, Joe had said, had taken off the day after he had been over. Just like that, not a word, nothing, just gone. Like he had never been there.
Ghosts. Memories. That was all she would be so very soon too. Mary Sue was going to disappear. She bought new clothes. Not the nice dresses Joe liked to see her in, the ones that had the ladies at the club go green with envy. Not that she was holding them up so extremely well but the price tags; those put flame to dry grass. She had sometimes taken a small, evil, smirking pleasure in telling them what the dresses had cost. How Joe didn't spare any expenses on her. That was over now. Like she was. Done. Finished. Price tags didn't matter anymore.
The new clothes she bought; she hadn't worn anything like that since she got married. Jeans, flannel shirts, hoodies for god sake. She didn't show Joe her purchases, he didn't have to think that is wife was insane already. There would be time enough for that after she was gone. Especially when he discovered that she had taken the gun.
Mary Sue left the wedding ring on the kitchen table. She put it on top of the letter she ahd written. Cowardly, yes but she didn't have it in her to say it to his face. Her courage didn't last that far. Joe was away again, another overnight conference. She knew that all those meetings weren't always meetings. She knew he fucked hookers from time to time. Once, that had bothered her. Once, when there still had been a spark between them, when she had been young enough to believe in everlasting, pink tinted love.
Those foolish notions were long gone, just as the innocent girl she had been. Her life hadn't been hard in any way. Only detached. Her world had consisted of Joe, the club, 'lady friends', the latest fashion. There hadn't been much choice after her mama had died. She had been too young to manage by herself and Joe had come by like a knight on a stallion. Easy comes, easy goes. That knight had been gone within the year and replaced with the Joe she had spent the last eternity with.
But now; enough was enough. She closed the front door behind her for the last time. The bag she carried was light. She wore her new outfit, hadn't taken anything of what belonged to Joe. Not even a picture of him.
The car roared to life and she could feel the vibrations through the seat. There had been a few old cassette tapes in the glove compartment and she put one of them in the player. For a few moments she just sat there, listening, feeling. Life was strange sometimes. Even though all the marks were gone by now, the one inside was till there. Mary Sue knew that she would never see them again. They could have been just ghosts or figments of her fantasy, but that didn't matter. What was important was that she was back amongst the living again. She pulled out on the street, took a left just for the hell of it and she did not look back.