The Things We Carry [1/?]
anonymous
March 31 2009, 06:11:20 UTC
Monday | Clock reads 0518
Student Name: Ivan Braginski Class Grade: 11th Class Rank: formerly 2nd, now 1st
Ivan wonders, vaguely in that place in his mind that he allows himself his own thoughts, how he managed to get back to the dorms. His father had been so angry this time, and his mother had even joined in. But Ivan knew he deserved it... 19 out of 20 was nowhere near acceptable, especially not on a Russian quiz.
It is early and no one else is in the dorm room baths. Ivan stands in the shower with the water running over his back, looking carefully (oh so carefully because nothing hurts if you cannot see it) at the wall in front of him. He washes himself without looking at what he is doing. If he looks, then he will see blood mingling with soap (stings) and water (burns).
Ivan sets washes the soap from himself, turning slowly under the shower head. If he had looked down (no, boy, don't you dare), he would have seen the stained pinkish water rushing down the drain. He gets out, towels himself with a dark blue, almost black towel, and pulls on dark underwear, dark uniform dress pants, dark socks and uniform shoes, dark undershirt, dress shirt, sweater. It does not matter that it is hot in the shower room; he must keep it all hidden.
Ivan leaves the bathroom, bath things in hand, staring out into the empty hall and pretending with the practice of one very used to such things that there are no wounds (on his back, covering his arms, marring his legs, scribbled on his chest) from which to register pain. He did not deserve pain, no. Pain was for human beings. Pain was for existing. Ivan was not worth such a label. Ivan did not deserve to exist at all.
Student Name: Ivan Braginski Class Level: Junior Class Rank: formerly 2nd, now 1st Diagnosis: Severe physical and emotional abuse
Student Name: Alfred F. Jones Class Level: Junior Class Rank: formerly 1st, now 2nd
Alfred swallows hard and stares at the plate that his roommate and lifelong friend sets in front of him. Corn flakes (no sugar) and non-fat milk. More calories he didn't need. Alfred has to work very hard not to fidget in an obvious manner. Instead, he twitches his toes in his shoes; any kind of movement as long as it burned more calories.
"Come on," he says, casting a winning smile and hoping to distract his friend. "I've got class at eight. I don't have any time."
Student Name: Arthur Kirkland Class Level: Senior Class Rank: 3rd
Arthur has to work very hard not to let any of the frustration and worry he feel gnawing at his insides show on his face. "Alfred... you've had the 'stomach flu' for over two months..."
He watches Alfred drum his fingers on the cafeteria table top, his other hand clutching the coffee cup he had drained as his breakfast. Alfred's skin has taken on an ashen parlor in the past several months ever since he announced to Arthur that he was going to stop eating all that junk and fast food he had lived on for so long. For health and stuff, he'd said. And Arthur had actually (stupidly!) congratulated him on finally trying to eat healthier.
Re: The Things We Carry [1/?]
anonymous
April 1 2009, 03:43:58 UTC
Oooh. OP here of the original request, I'm loving the different takes on this topic so far, and I can't wait to see you and the other current fill-writer continue with your versions :) (the first fill was awesome, and it's always neat to see more takes on a subject)
Re: The Things We Carry [2/?]
anonymous
April 2 2009, 07:24:01 UTC
Alfred looks down at the plate in front of him. For a moment--one fleeting, damned moment--, Arthur feels hope that Alfred is actually going to eat something and not immediately go and regurgitate it. But then Alfred is standing up (bones, bones, that's all he is) and scowling, shaking his head.
"Leave me alone, Arthur. It's not your business."
"You're my friend! I can't just -"
"I am not destroying myself!" Alfred shouts. "And it's not like you're a bed of roses either. At least I don't go around destroying other people's property when I get ticked off!"
Student Name: Alfred F. Jones Class Level: Junior Class Rank: formerly 1st, now 2nd Diagnosis: Anorexia-Bulimia Nervosa
Arthur watches Alfred storm off, looking back down at the table. He tries very hard not to cry, but it doesn't work. So he hides his face in his arms and sobs while biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.
Student Name: Arthur Kirkland Class Level: Senior Class Rank: 3rd Diagnosis: Intermittent Explosive Disorder
Ivan is being shaken. He jerks awake, sitting upright so fast he nearly falls out of his desk chair. A squeak to his left brings him back to reality, and he turns, catching the surprised face of his roommate.
Name: Wang Yao Class Level: Senior Class Rank: 1st
"Ivan, aru!" Yao says, smiling awkwardly. "It is time to go to class, aru."
"Ah," is all Ivan can say as he takes Yao's offered hand to get unsteadily to his feet.
Yao is, perhaps, the only person besides Ivan's sisters who know about his family. It is kind of a hazard of having a roommate; one begins to know the other very well after a while. Ivan and Yao get along quite well despite completely different personalities and interests.
"Sorry to wake you like that, aru," Yao says as they walk out; he fiddles with his hair. "I know you hate being surprised, aru."
Ivan shakes his head; it spins, so he stops. Yao's hand is already at his elbow, the other fiddling absently with his long black hair. Yao smiles even though his eyes are very sad.
Name: Wang Yao Class Level: Senior Class Rank: 1st Diagnosis: Tourette Syndrome
"This weekend was bad, aru, wasn't it?" Ivan does not respond, but Yao understands. "Ivan, aru..."
"Yao..."
"Please do not go home anymore!" Yao exclaims, clutching Ivan's elbow as they walk into the open air towards their first class of the day. "You can come and live with me in the summer and vacations, aru. You know my parents would let you! Please, aru!"
Student Name: Ivan Braginski
Class Grade: 11th
Class Rank: formerly 2nd, now 1st
Ivan wonders, vaguely in that place in his mind that he allows himself his own thoughts, how he managed to get back to the dorms. His father had been so angry this time, and his mother had even joined in. But Ivan knew he deserved it... 19 out of 20 was nowhere near acceptable, especially not on a Russian quiz.
It is early and no one else is in the dorm room baths. Ivan stands in the shower with the water running over his back, looking carefully (oh so carefully because nothing hurts if you cannot see it) at the wall in front of him. He washes himself without looking at what he is doing. If he looks, then he will see blood mingling with soap (stings) and water (burns).
Ivan sets washes the soap from himself, turning slowly under the shower head. If he had looked down (no, boy, don't you dare), he would have seen the stained pinkish water rushing down the drain. He gets out, towels himself with a dark blue, almost black towel, and pulls on dark underwear, dark uniform dress pants, dark socks and uniform shoes, dark undershirt, dress shirt, sweater. It does not matter that it is hot in the shower room; he must keep it all hidden.
Ivan leaves the bathroom, bath things in hand, staring out into the empty hall and pretending with the practice of one very used to such things that there are no wounds (on his back, covering his arms, marring his legs, scribbled on his chest) from which to register pain. He did not deserve pain, no. Pain was for human beings. Pain was for existing. Ivan was not worth such a label. Ivan did not deserve to exist at all.
Student Name: Ivan Braginski
Class Level: Junior
Class Rank: formerly 2nd, now 1st
Diagnosis: Severe physical and emotional abuse
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday | Clock reads 0731
Student Name: Alfred F. Jones
Class Level: Junior
Class Rank: formerly 1st, now 2nd
Alfred swallows hard and stares at the plate that his roommate and lifelong friend sets in front of him. Corn flakes (no sugar) and non-fat milk. More calories he didn't need. Alfred has to work very hard not to fidget in an obvious manner. Instead, he twitches his toes in his shoes; any kind of movement as long as it burned more calories.
"Come on," he says, casting a winning smile and hoping to distract his friend. "I've got class at eight. I don't have any time."
Student Name: Arthur Kirkland
Class Level: Senior
Class Rank: 3rd
Arthur has to work very hard not to let any of the frustration and worry he feel gnawing at his insides show on his face. "Alfred... you've had the 'stomach flu' for over two months..."
He watches Alfred drum his fingers on the cafeteria table top, his other hand clutching the coffee cup he had drained as his breakfast. Alfred's skin has taken on an ashen parlor in the past several months ever since he announced to Arthur that he was going to stop eating all that junk and fast food he had lived on for so long. For health and stuff, he'd said. And Arthur had actually (stupidly!) congratulated him on finally trying to eat healthier.
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"Leave me alone, Arthur. It's not your business."
"You're my friend! I can't just -"
"I am not destroying myself!" Alfred shouts. "And it's not like you're a bed of roses either. At least I don't go around destroying other people's property when I get ticked off!"
Student Name: Alfred F. Jones
Class Level: Junior
Class Rank: formerly 1st, now 2nd
Diagnosis: Anorexia-Bulimia Nervosa
Arthur watches Alfred storm off, looking back down at the table. He tries very hard not to cry, but it doesn't work. So he hides his face in his arms and sobs while biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.
Student Name: Arthur Kirkland
Class Level: Senior
Class Rank: 3rd
Diagnosis: Intermittent Explosive Disorder
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday | Clock reads 0748
Ivan is being shaken. He jerks awake, sitting upright so fast he nearly falls out of his desk chair. A squeak to his left brings him back to reality, and he turns, catching the surprised face of his roommate.
Name: Wang Yao
Class Level: Senior
Class Rank: 1st
"Ivan, aru!" Yao says, smiling awkwardly. "It is time to go to class, aru."
"Ah," is all Ivan can say as he takes Yao's offered hand to get unsteadily to his feet.
Yao is, perhaps, the only person besides Ivan's sisters who know about his family. It is kind of a hazard of having a roommate; one begins to know the other very well after a while. Ivan and Yao get along quite well despite completely different personalities and interests.
"Sorry to wake you like that, aru," Yao says as they walk out; he fiddles with his hair. "I know you hate being surprised, aru."
Ivan shakes his head; it spins, so he stops. Yao's hand is already at his elbow, the other fiddling absently with his long black hair. Yao smiles even though his eyes are very sad.
Name: Wang Yao
Class Level: Senior
Class Rank: 1st
Diagnosis: Tourette Syndrome
"This weekend was bad, aru, wasn't it?" Ivan does not respond, but Yao understands. "Ivan, aru..."
"Yao..."
"Please do not go home anymore!" Yao exclaims, clutching Ivan's elbow as they walk into the open air towards their first class of the day. "You can come and live with me in the summer and vacations, aru. You know my parents would let you! Please, aru!"
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