DIVISION FIC :: "Ghost Stories :: Track 1" [CD/Jinny, PG13-NC17]
INDEX & DISCLAIMER INFO { DW || LJ }
Track One: Filthy Mind
"My fingers are burnt.
Forgot what I learnt.
I'll never be satisfied.
Become a recluse.
Enjoy the abuse.
It's better to just get high…
Welcome to my filthy mind."
Writhing. Sweet, hot ecstasy. Lightning explodes behind my eyelids. This is it, I think disjointedly. The supernova melt into nothingness.
Her fingers curl around my nipples, teasing mercilessly. Her tongue is even better, dipping and swirling around my clit. I'm so close; I'm near tears at the sensation. I can't keep still no matter how much she tells me to. I want all of her: on me, in me, surrounding me, possessing me. And I tell her; beg her, whining incoherently like a bitch in heat.
She just laughs, that low, throaty chuckle that drives me insane, and warns me to be patient, that I'll get what I want and deserve -- when she's ready. And then she begins a languid path of butterfly kisses up the length of my body. It refocuses me on my overwhelming need as she sets my skin on fire, a white-hot inferno that threatens to consume me.
When she finally reaches my face, I feel faint with the need, the hunger. I almost don't hear her lowly murmured command. Reluctant, but unwilling to lose her powerful touch, I force my eyes open, only to fall into fathomless blue.
She holds me on the brink of nirvana for painfully breathless… minutes? days? eternities? I don't know. But I quiver, trembling on the edge of oblivion, safe in the embrace of her tender cruelty. I could almost stay here forever, knowing she'll allow me no harm. And yet I crave that one gentle push to send me plummeting into the blazing abyss. I beg incoherently for her divine benediction, worthless nothing that I am, until finally she takes pity on me.
"Come for me."
Three words. Out of the millions of possibilities.
And I shatter like the most delicate crystal. Stripped to the barest atoms of my existence. Torn asunder and scattered across the universe. My heart stops. My lungs deflate. My synapses burn out. Reduced to oblivion's shadow, I float without meaning.
And I don't care.
Insistent wet heat brings me back. Each atom recalled and reformed into the familiarity of me. But it's not me. Not the me from before this. Pulled back through the stifling inferno, this is reforming of the whole again. Each agonizing breath fans the flames of renewal, of cleansing, of redemption. Soul-searing in its intensity, it burns off the impurities, scorching my wishes to turn back to the oblivious floating. And I'm helpless to escape its mesmerizing pull until once again I feel that wet heat.
And suddenly, clarity returns in the realization that the wet heat is tears… My tears.
Supernova, my ass. Phoenix rising out of the flames is more like it.
Suddenly I find myself staring blearily at the loudest fucking alarm clock in the history of… Well, of time. Do they not understand the simple notion of decent sleep in this place?
"Come on, Narc," comes the gruff voice at the door. "Get your ass up and ready for group."
Oh goodie! More sharing of bullshit with people I don't give a shit about. Hasn't it been long enough yet? Haven't they gotten as bored with their stories yet as I have?
"Buzz off, Mary," I snarl back, head still buried under the covers. "I got time for a shower still."
"Hurry up and you might be on time for once. But hey, there's always a first for everything, right?"
I flip her the bird and know she's grinning at me. Shifting, I manage to sit up and angrily push the hair back out of my face. "I'm up, okay? Now go piss someone else off, would ya?"
"No one else to piss off. They all know how to get up on time."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I mutter, grabbing my stuff, and shuffle toward the showers. "Everybody's gotta be a fucking comedian around here."
"Careful, or I'll tell Doc what you said," is her parting shot as I close the door behind me.
Turning the water on as cold as I can, I step under the spray and barely manage to hold back a shocked scream at just how frigid that water is. Well, I'm certainly awake now. Knowing there's no chance that I'll doze off and potentially drown, I turn the dial a full one-eighty to the hottest I can stand and reach for my shampoo. As I rush through my shower, I do my best to ignore the dream still wrapping itself sinuously around my brainstem, among other things. I utterly refuse to even consider who it was in the dream with me. It was simply a product of the lack of alcohol in my system, that's all.
And I need the alcohol to deal with the dreams and what they might actually mean. I can't function without it; I don't know who I am if I'm not drinking. I'm afraid of who I'll become without alcohol, or if anyone else will still want to have anything to do with me. I don't want to lose everything I've always known to be me.
"Jinny?"
Oh shit! I begin to scrub at the lather in my hair, hard enough to scratch my scalp. That's gonna burn for the rest of the day.
"Were you planning on coming to group? Or would you rather I bring group to you? I’m sure the guys would love it."
"I'll just be a few more seconds, Mac," I holler, and nearly drown myself in the process. "Honest!" Where the hell has the time gone? And then I can hear Mary laughing in the door way. Fucker'd lied to me! "And you can kiss my ass, Mary! You'll pay for that!"
"Promises, promises!"
"Knock it off, you two!"
I quickly dry myself and throw sweats and a t-shirt onto mostly damp skin before pulling the curtain back. Stepping out, I roughly towel dry my hair, and hope it'll end up drier than my skin so far, when I come face to face with my other major torment in this hellhole of a rehab facility.
Dr. Kelly "Mac" MacKenzie. Shrink extraordinaire and Public Pain-in-My-Ass Number One. Mary is a close second. A really close second.
"Look, I'm sorry, but Mary said I'd have time for a shower. I -- I didn't sleep well." I don't want to admit this, cannon fodder for group that it is, but I certainly have no better excuse. I know the rules. And if I want to get out of here and get back to my life, I need to follow the rules.
"Another nightmare?"
"You could say that." Yeah, if the ultimate in sexual intimacy is a bad thing, this was the granddaddy of all nightmares. But I don't dare tell her that. I don't want to live with the fallout of that blast. She'll probably get off on it.
"So are you going to tell me what it was? Or do I have to play Twenty Questions while the rest of the group waits on you?" Her voice is calm, deceptively so, but I can still hear that annoyingly grating tone to it.
I quickly pull a comb through my hair, swearing under my breath as I hit more snarls that I would if I could take my time, and I refuse to meet her eyes. "Maybe later? I mean, we wouldn't want to keep the others waiting now, would we?" I reply, tossing her own words right back at her. I can feel those green eyes of hers boring into the back of my head, and pray fervently that she'll let it go just this once. Realizing I can dawdle no longer, I gather up my things and t urn to face her. "Listen, Mac, I'm gonna drop my stuff off in my room, then I'll be down for group, okay?"
"You will tell me what's going on, Jinny," she replies in a neutral tone, but lets me pass.
Great, now I'm in deep shit with my shrink. Yay me.
I just wish there was a way I could explain this to her without sounding like a complete fucking loony. I seriously doubt there is a way to do it, not if she intends me to stay sober while I do it. And staying sober is kind of the point of this place, isn't it? After tossing my stuff on my bed, I slip into a hoodie and head down the hall to group, still trying desperately not to think about that damned dream and what it means. Like it would last for very long anyway… "Welcome to Jinny Exstead's brilliant fucking life," I mutter, taking the only empty seat in the room, which is thankfully as far I can possibly get from Mac and still be part of the group.
"Well," Mac starts, "now that everyone's here, why don't we continue where we left off yesterday? Dave, I think you were telling us how you came to be here."
Rolling my eyes, I slump down into my chair and do my best to listen to his story. But really, I don't give a rat's ass why Dave's here. Or Sarah, or Chad, or Pat, or Michelle, or anyone else that's in this room. All I care about is getting through this and getting my piece and my badge back. I'm still pretty pissed at Magda and CD for setting up that damned intervention, but what could I do? The Captain was gonna fire me if I didn't comply. And no way in hell am I gonna lose my job for anything as stupid as drinking. Yeah, maybe I have a little problem with alcohol, but it isn't anything I can't handle. They didn't need to go that far. Especially…
"Jinny?"
My head snaps up and I stare at Mac. Then I notice everyone else is staring at me like I'm some sort of science experiment. "What?" I spit out angrily, more angry at myself for getting caught than at any of them.
"I believe it's time for you to tell us why you're here."
I shake my head and glance up at the clock. Fuck! Where did the past half an hour go? "Can I do this another time? I'm really not up to it right now." Not with the dreams fucking with my sleep, that's for sure.
Mac regards me for a long moment, and I fight the urge to squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass. "Well, considering no one else has been able to beg off of this, why should I let you? Unless you'd rather tell us about the nightmares that keep causing your sleepless nights?"
Oh fuck me gently with a chainsaw. She has me, and we both fucking know it.
Glaring at her, I slouch down further in my chair, but don't meet anyone's gaze. "Fine. You wanna know why I'm here? That's easy. My partner thought I couldn't handle my alcohol. So did my captain, my coworkers, and my family. Yeah, that's right. They ambushed me and, among other things, I got told that if I didn't go through rehab, I'd lose my job. There you go. The story of how fucked up Jinny Exstead got her ass locked up in this hellhole of a rehab. End of fucking story." I turn a dark glare on Mac, growling, "Happy now?" And then I lower my gaze again, slumping even further into my chair, and cross my arms tightly over my chest.
The room is dead silent for a few long seconds, and then I hear the sound of a single person clapping. Oh, I know it's Mac, and she's clearly being sarcastic. Fuck, I hate when she does that shit. I refuse to meet her gaze again, though. I'm not about to give her the satisfaction of knowing she's gotten me to lose my temper. Hell, she probably knows it already anyway.
Original post @ Dreamwidth with
comments. Commenting is welcome on either post.
Track One: Filthy Mind
"My fingers are burnt.
Forgot what I learnt.
I'll never be satisfied.
Become a recluse.
Enjoy the abuse.
It's better to just get high…
Welcome to my filthy mind."
Writhing. Sweet, hot ecstasy. Lightning explodes behind my eyelids. This is it, I think disjointedly. The supernova melt into nothingness.
Her fingers curl around my nipples, teasing mercilessly. Her tongue is even better, dipping and swirling around my clit. I'm so close; I'm near tears at the sensation. I can't keep still no matter how much she tells me to. I want all of her: on me, in me, surrounding me, possessing me. And I tell her; beg her, whining incoherently like a bitch in heat.
She just laughs, that low, throaty chuckle that drives me insane, and warns me to be patient, that I'll get what I want and deserve -- when she's ready. And then she begins a languid path of butterfly kisses up the length of my body. It refocuses me on my overwhelming need as she sets my skin on fire, a white-hot inferno that threatens to consume me.
When she finally reaches my face, I feel faint with the need, the hunger. I almost don't hear her lowly murmured command. Reluctant, but unwilling to lose her powerful touch, I force my eyes open, only to fall into fathomless blue.
She holds me on the brink of nirvana for painfully breathless… minutes? days? eternities? I don't know. But I quiver, trembling on the edge of oblivion, safe in the embrace of her tender cruelty. I could almost stay here forever, knowing she'll allow me no harm. And yet I crave that one gentle push to send me plummeting into the blazing abyss. I beg incoherently for her divine benediction, worthless nothing that I am, until finally she takes pity on me.
"Come for me."
Three words. Out of the millions of possibilities.
And I shatter like the most delicate crystal. Stripped to the barest atoms of my existence. Torn asunder and scattered across the universe. My heart stops. My lungs deflate. My synapses burn out. Reduced to oblivion's shadow, I float without meaning.
And I don't care.
Insistent wet heat brings me back. Each atom recalled and reformed into the familiarity of me. But it's not me. Not the me from before this. Pulled back through the stifling inferno, this is reforming of the whole again. Each agonizing breath fans the flames of renewal, of cleansing, of redemption. Soul-searing in its intensity, it burns off the impurities, scorching my wishes to turn back to the oblivious floating. And I'm helpless to escape its mesmerizing pull until once again I feel that wet heat.
And suddenly, clarity returns in the realization that the wet heat is tears… My tears.
Supernova, my ass. Phoenix rising out of the flames is more like it.
Suddenly I find myself staring blearily at the loudest fucking alarm clock in the history of… Well, of time. Do they not understand the simple notion of decent sleep in this place?
"Come on, Narc," comes the gruff voice at the door. "Get your ass up and ready for group."
Oh goodie! More sharing of bullshit with people I don't give a shit about. Hasn't it been long enough yet? Haven't they gotten as bored with their stories yet as I have?
"Buzz off, Mary," I snarl back, head still buried under the covers. "I got time for a shower still."
"Hurry up and you might be on time for once. But hey, there's always a first for everything, right?"
I flip her the bird and know she's grinning at me. Shifting, I manage to sit up and angrily push the hair back out of my face. "I'm up, okay? Now go piss someone else off, would ya?"
"No one else to piss off. They all know how to get up on time."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I mutter, grabbing my stuff, and shuffle toward the showers. "Everybody's gotta be a fucking comedian around here."
"Careful, or I'll tell Doc what you said," is her parting shot as I close the door behind me.
Turning the water on as cold as I can, I step under the spray and barely manage to hold back a shocked scream at just how frigid that water is. Well, I'm certainly awake now. Knowing there's no chance that I'll doze off and potentially drown, I turn the dial a full one-eighty to the hottest I can stand and reach for my shampoo. As I rush through my shower, I do my best to ignore the dream still wrapping itself sinuously around my brainstem, among other things. I utterly refuse to even consider who it was in the dream with me. It was simply a product of the lack of alcohol in my system, that's all.
And I need the alcohol to deal with the dreams and what they might actually mean. I can't function without it; I don't know who I am if I'm not drinking. I'm afraid of who I'll become without alcohol, or if anyone else will still want to have anything to do with me. I don't want to lose everything I've always known to be me.
"Jinny?"
Oh shit! I begin to scrub at the lather in my hair, hard enough to scratch my scalp. That's gonna burn for the rest of the day.
"Were you planning on coming to group? Or would you rather I bring group to you? I’m sure the guys would love it."
"I'll just be a few more seconds, Mac," I holler, and nearly drown myself in the process. "Honest!" Where the hell has the time gone? And then I can hear Mary laughing in the door way. Fucker'd lied to me! "And you can kiss my ass, Mary! You'll pay for that!"
"Promises, promises!"
"Knock it off, you two!"
I quickly dry myself and throw sweats and a t-shirt onto mostly damp skin before pulling the curtain back. Stepping out, I roughly towel dry my hair, and hope it'll end up drier than my skin so far, when I come face to face with my other major torment in this hellhole of a rehab facility.
Dr. Kelly "Mac" MacKenzie. Shrink extraordinaire and Public Pain-in-My-Ass Number One. Mary is a close second. A really close second.
"Look, I'm sorry, but Mary said I'd have time for a shower. I -- I didn't sleep well." I don't want to admit this, cannon fodder for group that it is, but I certainly have no better excuse. I know the rules. And if I want to get out of here and get back to my life, I need to follow the rules.
"Another nightmare?"
"You could say that." Yeah, if the ultimate in sexual intimacy is a bad thing, this was the granddaddy of all nightmares. But I don't dare tell her that. I don't want to live with the fallout of that blast. She'll probably get off on it.
"So are you going to tell me what it was? Or do I have to play Twenty Questions while the rest of the group waits on you?" Her voice is calm, deceptively so, but I can still hear that annoyingly grating tone to it.
I quickly pull a comb through my hair, swearing under my breath as I hit more snarls that I would if I could take my time, and I refuse to meet her eyes. "Maybe later? I mean, we wouldn't want to keep the others waiting now, would we?" I reply, tossing her own words right back at her. I can feel those green eyes of hers boring into the back of my head, and pray fervently that she'll let it go just this once. Realizing I can dawdle no longer, I gather up my things and t urn to face her. "Listen, Mac, I'm gonna drop my stuff off in my room, then I'll be down for group, okay?"
"You will tell me what's going on, Jinny," she replies in a neutral tone, but lets me pass.
Great, now I'm in deep shit with my shrink. Yay me.
I just wish there was a way I could explain this to her without sounding like a complete fucking loony. I seriously doubt there is a way to do it, not if she intends me to stay sober while I do it. And staying sober is kind of the point of this place, isn't it? After tossing my stuff on my bed, I slip into a hoodie and head down the hall to group, still trying desperately not to think about that damned dream and what it means. Like it would last for very long anyway… "Welcome to Jinny Exstead's brilliant fucking life," I mutter, taking the only empty seat in the room, which is thankfully as far I can possibly get from Mac and still be part of the group.
"Well," Mac starts, "now that everyone's here, why don't we continue where we left off yesterday? Dave, I think you were telling us how you came to be here."
Rolling my eyes, I slump down into my chair and do my best to listen to his story. But really, I don't give a rat's ass why Dave's here. Or Sarah, or Chad, or Pat, or Michelle, or anyone else that's in this room. All I care about is getting through this and getting my piece and my badge back. I'm still pretty pissed at Magda and CD for setting up that damned intervention, but what could I do? The Captain was gonna fire me if I didn't comply. And no way in hell am I gonna lose my job for anything as stupid as drinking. Yeah, maybe I have a little problem with alcohol, but it isn't anything I can't handle. They didn't need to go that far. Especially…
"Jinny?"
My head snaps up and I stare at Mac. Then I notice everyone else is staring at me like I'm some sort of science experiment. "What?" I spit out angrily, more angry at myself for getting caught than at any of them.
"I believe it's time for you to tell us why you're here."
I shake my head and glance up at the clock. Fuck! Where did the past half an hour go? "Can I do this another time? I'm really not up to it right now." Not with the dreams fucking with my sleep, that's for sure.
Mac regards me for a long moment, and I fight the urge to squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass. "Well, considering no one else has been able to beg off of this, why should I let you? Unless you'd rather tell us about the nightmares that keep causing your sleepless nights?"
Oh fuck me gently with a chainsaw. She has me, and we both fucking know it.
Glaring at her, I slouch down further in my chair, but don't meet anyone's gaze. "Fine. You wanna know why I'm here? That's easy. My partner thought I couldn't handle my alcohol. So did my captain, my coworkers, and my family. Yeah, that's right. They ambushed me and, among other things, I got told that if I didn't go through rehab, I'd lose my job. There you go. The story of how fucked up Jinny Exstead got her ass locked up in this hellhole of a rehab. End of fucking story." I turn a dark glare on Mac, growling, "Happy now?" And then I lower my gaze again, slumping even further into my chair, and cross my arms tightly over my chest.
The room is dead silent for a few long seconds, and then I hear the sound of a single person clapping. Oh, I know it's Mac, and she's clearly being sarcastic. Fuck, I hate when she does that shit. I refuse to meet her gaze again, though. I'm not about to give her the satisfaction of knowing she's gotten me to lose my temper. Hell, she probably knows it already anyway.
Original post @ Dreamwidth with
comments. Commenting is welcome on either post.