debt repayment: atropinesulfate

Feb 23, 2011 13:43

Exactly 600 words.

They give you pills for that. I know, I've been in it too, through it, swum in it. That. We could argue terms all night but let's not bother - we're not doctors. Let them fight it out between them like the screeching rats in the walls bickering over territory. If you listen you can hear them.

This "condition" they're studying is a lobster pot, you know, and the other thing about a lobster pot is that there's not a fisherman in the world who knows what it's like to be in one.

Some things are true, you see, and I'm afraid one of them is the silver. You're just going to have to chill here for a second - and I know it hurts - while I, yes, see, the gloves? I told you, I'm not a doctor. And I do have a unique understanding of what you're going through, here. So just lie still and let me pick this lock, and the burning will stop soon.

Oh I suppose to a degree they're for your own protection, yes. Protection from prosecution, protection from hurting someone you love, that kind of thing. The problem with that is if you just walk out now, we can be far away from anyone you love by the next cycle. So it's not the big thing they're making it out to be. Hell, you can still see them most of the time. It's only three days. It's shorter than your damn period.

Which is really my point - hold still, sweetheart, I've nearly got it - they don't know what they're talking about. They're on the outside, looking in, and we're holding this hot sticky bloody mess in the palms of our hands - which look, aren’t hairy yet. Well, you'd be able to see better without the gloves but the silver, you know.

You know, and I know. That's why I came to let you out, honey. I've seen you in here staring out of the windows on the good days and I thought to myself, that girl needs the opportunity to make up her own mind. Do you stay locked up for your "own good" or do you take a chance, ride out the bad nights, keep pace with me? I mean, I may not be a lot to look at but I guarantee you won't get the same offer from that poncy twit in the Hoxton haircut who booked you in.

Okay I was sort of hoping you wouldn't take my eyeballs out or anything gruesome like that when I let you go, so I'm letting you know now: I'm not sorry I bit you, but I'm sorry you had to end up here, alright? Now. In five minutes, give or take, I think I'll have the best of this one up here, the master lock. You can move your feet okay? Good.

So when this lock's done, I think you'll have had time to decide what you're going to do - I'm just going to wait out there, by that door, and if you want to get chained back down again and carry on with the "treatments" until they find one that works, then fine, you can always find a doctor, but - ah, there we go, lock sprung, girl free. Poppy, wasn't it? No, I'm playing. I know your name, it's on the chart.

My name's Hannah, since you didn't ask.

So, if you want a minute or two to make up your mind -

Well if you're that certain already, I have a coat and a spare bag. Clean underwear, toothpaste, socks, and everything.

Let's go.

things to make and do, i disappoint myself continually, loving the sound of my own voice, incurable romance is a horrid disease, writing, tags contradict post, obsessive word-counting, short fic, trying not to be a cockend for once, grotesque public displays of gay, persistent attention-whoring, but i also fail as a lesbian, fic

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