Again, lazy
Two nights after the murder -- and the night of when they all figured out who was going to trial and who wasn't -- Ramsey lay on a sidewalk, staring upward.
He'd never been the starstruck type. He was more romantic than scientific, more.. hopeful about things that seemed impossible rather than hopeful he could prove whether things seemed impossible. It was when he was contemplating why he never saw anything in the stars, but rather the stars themselves -- all twinkly and pretty -- that Jeanette showed up.
She locked him in a basement for a week, without anyone there. While he was there, he bounced off the walls, ate until he got sick, and paced until his legs and back couldn't take it anymore. He ran himself in cold showers, and then hours later would run the hot water.. At one point, he beat at the walls, the furniture.. But eventually settled enough to where Jeanette could visit him, could give him someone to talk to -- or, rather, he ended up listening and contributed very little. He looked and felt lower than horrible, lower than pathetic.. and having someone there, despite that, was nice -- even if he was craving a hit badly enough to smoke it through her hollowed-out bones.
Things were pretty grim for about four months; she would come in and talk to him, tell him how her day was, about the people she liked and didn't like. About kittens, or about the puppy she owned.
It was on the day she finally made him laugh, laugh with a smile and sound and everything, that he ended up kissing her. He ended up spilling to her how beautiful she had been the last six months, how patient she was and how he appreciated her and.. he couldn't help but think she saved him for a reason, odd as the situation was.
And when he kissed her, all those hormones, those urges that most men go through when in their teenage years, all flowed through into her and it was more than a little hard to hold back. He had been high in his peak three years, and then, at the age of twenty, he finally let things lose.
When he kissed her, it was awkward, unexpected.. She didn't smack him. Instead, her fingers went through his unkempt hair and he found his hand at her back, a back that he hadn't touched before, a place that could lead to bras and underwear and buttons..
He waited a year before he slept with her, and God was it damned hard. The wait, one means..
Being betrayed by her, and then finding out she was pregnant.. Pregnant because of him, because of his overly horny overly-loving urges. Because of his pushy self, because of his bad choices.. he trusted someone, someone he shouldn't have.. He should have known, could have avoided that pain..
Too many times had he regretted being saved from his suicide attempts, being talked to about how his life could improve if only he wanted it badly enough and tried hard enough.
He regretted it, thinking back on it, now that he was with Gina. Being a weak, suicidal, drugged up monster married to a gorgeous woman and fathering her child.. If anything could go wrong, he figured it would but hoped it wouldn't, and he tried hard not to consider these things. If questioned about his past, he'd lie and say he couldn't remember anything. Sometimes he did and sometimes he didn't, but usually he did and usually he didn't want to express his fears or problems stemming from his past. There was too much, and what would Gina think? Wouldn't she leave him if she knew he was an ex drug abuser, a weapons trafficking thief, a drunk and a woman-beating bastard? He'd never do anything to her but.. it would be precautionary, on her part, if she.. if she left. She couldn't leave.. he'd resist that possibility all that he could.
He'd never been the starstruck type. He was more romantic than scientific, more.. hopeful about things that seemed impossible rather than hopeful he could prove whether things seemed impossible. It was when he was contemplating why he never saw anything in the stars, but rather the stars themselves -- all twinkly and pretty -- that Jeanette showed up.
She locked him in a basement for a week, without anyone there. While he was there, he bounced off the walls, ate until he got sick, and paced until his legs and back couldn't take it anymore. He ran himself in cold showers, and then hours later would run the hot water.. At one point, he beat at the walls, the furniture.. But eventually settled enough to where Jeanette could visit him, could give him someone to talk to -- or, rather, he ended up listening and contributed very little. He looked and felt lower than horrible, lower than pathetic.. and having someone there, despite that, was nice -- even if he was craving a hit badly enough to smoke it through her hollowed-out bones.
Things were pretty grim for about four months; she would come in and talk to him, tell him how her day was, about the people she liked and didn't like. About kittens, or about the puppy she owned.
It was on the day she finally made him laugh, laugh with a smile and sound and everything, that he ended up kissing her. He ended up spilling to her how beautiful she had been the last six months, how patient she was and how he appreciated her and.. he couldn't help but think she saved him for a reason, odd as the situation was.
And when he kissed her, all those hormones, those urges that most men go through when in their teenage years, all flowed through into her and it was more than a little hard to hold back. He had been high in his peak three years, and then, at the age of twenty, he finally let things lose.
When he kissed her, it was awkward, unexpected.. She didn't smack him. Instead, her fingers went through his unkempt hair and he found his hand at her back, a back that he hadn't touched before, a place that could lead to bras and underwear and buttons..
He waited a year before he slept with her, and God was it damned hard. The wait, one means..
Being betrayed by her, and then finding out she was pregnant.. Pregnant because of him, because of his overly horny overly-loving urges. Because of his pushy self, because of his bad choices.. he trusted someone, someone he shouldn't have.. He should have known, could have avoided that pain..
Too many times had he regretted being saved from his suicide attempts, being talked to about how his life could improve if only he wanted it badly enough and tried hard enough.
He regretted it, thinking back on it, now that he was with Gina. Being a weak, suicidal, drugged up monster married to a gorgeous woman and fathering her child.. If anything could go wrong, he figured it would but hoped it wouldn't, and he tried hard not to consider these things. If questioned about his past, he'd lie and say he couldn't remember anything. Sometimes he did and sometimes he didn't, but usually he did and usually he didn't want to express his fears or problems stemming from his past. There was too much, and what would Gina think? Wouldn't she leave him if she knew he was an ex drug abuser, a weapons trafficking thief, a drunk and a woman-beating bastard? He'd never do anything to her but.. it would be precautionary, on her part, if she.. if she left. She couldn't leave.. he'd resist that possibility all that he could.