(no subject)
Title: Countdown
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Character: Izzie.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 376
Prompt: #01 - Strawberry for
25_foods
Progress: 10/25
Summary: Flashback fic. Waiting is killing her.
Ninety seconds.
This is not the way this was supposed to work.
Eighty seconds.
She hears the front door open, her mother walk in and slam it behind her. Her eyes frantically flit over to the bathroom door, checking to make sure she locked it. She did.
Seventy seconds.
“Isobel!” Her mother calls, and Izzie can hear her mother moving towards her bedroom, looking for her.
She contemplates pretending she’s not here but then realizes that’s a stupid idea. She can’t disappear no matter how much she wants to at the moment.
“I’m in the bathroom, mom,” Izzie replies, trying to stop her voice from shaking.
Sixty seconds.
For the first time in forever she’s glad her mother doesn’t ask how her day went.
Fifty seconds.
She silently counts down the seconds in her head, tapping out a pattern on the edge of the sink nervously. With each tap, each second that passes by, the sound seems to get louder, a silent reminder. Time is running out.
Eventually she can’t stand it anymore, and sits down, putting her hands in her lap, her lips moving along instead.
Forty seconds.
She closes her eyes against the bright fluorescent lights, but when she does all she can see is her mother’s face staring back disapprovingly, shaking her head. ‘I had so much hope for you,’ she could almost hear her say.
Thirty seconds.
Waiting is killing her.
Twenty seconds.
There’s a certain invincibility you feel when you’re young. Nothing can break you down. She’s heard stories that went something like this from her friends but she never thought it would happen to her. She’s always thought she was better than that; smarter than that.
Innocence. She’s lost her innocence.
Ten seconds.
She bites down on her lower lip and tastes strawberries. It’s her lip-gloss, but all it makes her think of is summer vacations, a rarity but nearly always a relief. Her aunt, who now lives five hours away, used to always have them in the house.
If only she could go back in time, be back under the warm sun, the air smelling of freedom. Instead she’s stuck in a bathroom with cold tile under her feet, feeling like she might suffocate.
Three…two…one…
The line is pink.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Character: Izzie.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 376
Prompt: #01 - Strawberry for
25_foods
Progress: 10/25
Summary: Flashback fic. Waiting is killing her.
Ninety seconds.
This is not the way this was supposed to work.
Eighty seconds.
She hears the front door open, her mother walk in and slam it behind her. Her eyes frantically flit over to the bathroom door, checking to make sure she locked it. She did.
Seventy seconds.
“Isobel!” Her mother calls, and Izzie can hear her mother moving towards her bedroom, looking for her.
She contemplates pretending she’s not here but then realizes that’s a stupid idea. She can’t disappear no matter how much she wants to at the moment.
“I’m in the bathroom, mom,” Izzie replies, trying to stop her voice from shaking.
Sixty seconds.
For the first time in forever she’s glad her mother doesn’t ask how her day went.
Fifty seconds.
She silently counts down the seconds in her head, tapping out a pattern on the edge of the sink nervously. With each tap, each second that passes by, the sound seems to get louder, a silent reminder. Time is running out.
Eventually she can’t stand it anymore, and sits down, putting her hands in her lap, her lips moving along instead.
Forty seconds.
She closes her eyes against the bright fluorescent lights, but when she does all she can see is her mother’s face staring back disapprovingly, shaking her head. ‘I had so much hope for you,’ she could almost hear her say.
Thirty seconds.
Waiting is killing her.
Twenty seconds.
There’s a certain invincibility you feel when you’re young. Nothing can break you down. She’s heard stories that went something like this from her friends but she never thought it would happen to her. She’s always thought she was better than that; smarter than that.
Innocence. She’s lost her innocence.
Ten seconds.
She bites down on her lower lip and tastes strawberries. It’s her lip-gloss, but all it makes her think of is summer vacations, a rarity but nearly always a relief. Her aunt, who now lives five hours away, used to always have them in the house.
If only she could go back in time, be back under the warm sun, the air smelling of freedom. Instead she’s stuck in a bathroom with cold tile under her feet, feeling like she might suffocate.
Three…two…one…
The line is pink.