Post by Kiersten Mollie Bannon on Nov 8, 2012 18:47:50 GMT -5
Kiersten felt pressure from all sides as she sat between bodies, the cool floor seeping up into her bones. It was becoming more difficult to breathe, waiting for a sound, a sign; anything that might let on what was going on outside the door. Her heart was beating steadily, faster than usual but still even at least. The silence was almost sickening, and she began to feel nauseous as she dropped her forehead to her knees. Kiersten could feel the cold sweat seep through her jeans, and the hair on her arms stood up, a chill filling the room as the cold ache crept down her spine. She knew, like always, he was back. Back to haunt her dreams and she knew when she looked up just what would meet her gaze. As she lifted her eyes slowly and steadily, she was ready because it was the same as always. Staring down the barrel of a hand gun, the head of the shooter faceless as always. It was frustrating, to look up into a blank existence, to not be able to look the person in the eye thy had caused her so much trouble these past months. The near sleepless nights combined with a small amount of troubled sleep, clouding her thoughts with panic, anxiety, helplessness. Emptiness. Filling her dream state with this same horrific scene, staring him down as his gun stared her down right back. In her dream state she watched calmly, wishing he would pull the trigger. End all of it, she was ready to be finished with this. She was tired. She mentally cursed him, the coward, thinking to herself as her thoughts seemed to be vocalized, do it, she thought. Pull the trigger. Shoot me. So many times in her dreams she begged him to shoot her, shoot me instead! He just stood there, faceless, careless. Guilt overcame her body, her heart beating faster, felt the cool sweat drip down her back. So much would be different if he'd shot her instead. Why hadn't he just shot her instead? Because he was a coward, and he'd destroyed her world. Her world she had so carefully, cautiously and slowly put back together. Broken once more. Kiersten dropped her face again, wiping the sweat from her brow and she heard his voice, sensed his presence now where it wasn't a moment before. The sweetest, most gentle, strongest voice she knew. The same that had helped her pick up the pieces of herself, and put her on her feet. Put the pieces together like a long forgotten puzzle, held her together so easily. Opened her heart. Around him she felt worth something, loved. Now she knew she just felt useless. Look how much he had done for her, and she couldn't protect him from this? She was useless. She didn't even deserve him probably. And why would she, she had already been used when she me him, broken, dirty. Taken advantage of. He deserved someone as amazing as he was. Why he had ever spent so much of his time with her she couldn't tell. Why he was in front of her staring down the faceless gunman, she didn't know. She didn't know that she was worth saving.
Even still, she heard his voice, the soft sounds rolling across space to her ears, greedily taking in whatever of him was left for her to have. She heard his words, so even though she could almost feel him shaking as much as she was. Kiersten didn't know when her heart had begun to beat so desperately, trying so hard to call out to him. She wanted to tell him to run. Save himself from what was coming, save himself from the disaster that was her. Her voice seemed broken, like she was. It was as if someone had stuffed her throat full of peanut butter. She opened her mouth to yell but nothing happened. His words came out smoothly, Don't, you don't have to do this, she heard him say. It was like she sensed the hand on the gun tightening, the finger hovering strongly over the trigger. Kiersten couldn't stand the way her heart was threatening to burst through her chest, hating the familiar panic feeling; it was so unbearable. She was nauseous, her stomach leaping over itself terribly, shaking so badly she couldn't get a grip on her self enough to stand properly. Her breath was coming in quick gasps and she pulled herself forward, the deafening sound breaking the stillness in the dark room.
Just like that the faceless gunman was gone, but he left behind a mess she could never, ever fix. She couldn't pick up these pieces, couldn't put them back together. For all that Lance had done she couldn't even do the same for him. She was a useless being. Still, she screamed, the same deathly scream, gut wrenching. Her throats rasped out a noise she released from herself, like it was coming from the pit I her stomach. Kiersten struggled, fresh hot tears spilling over, sobbing so hard she couldn't catch her breath, screaming. Screaming to Lance, to the cold clammy hands holding her back, to anyone. She screamed and nothing changed. It was always the same. The way his body recoiled, always so strong and protective, a safe haven, was now crumbling miserably as he fell to the ground. Kiersten could only break free barely, the cold, gray skinned hands and arms tugging at her clothes and her legs threatening to rip her away from him. For a moment she held him, and everything was red. The warmth that spread across her own skin was unwelcome as she watched the life drain from his motionless body and she shook, sobs racking through her body. He was her everything, and he was dying right here in her arms. She wondered desperately if he knew that, that he was her everything. If maybe she could just hold onto him, she could fix him, but she knew it was no use. She couldn't breathe anymore, sobbing uncontrollably as she gasped for air. All too soon the hands came, yanking her back roughly and she tried so hard to hold onto him, knowing it would be the last time. The cold that swept over her skin was so chilling she shivered from top to bottom watching as the hands reached for him, pulling him up and taking him farther away. It was as if the room was stretching, lengthening, and he was farther and farther away, eyes as black as death itself and her heart burned. There wasn't anything she could do for him, what was the point of her? Lurching forward, she struggled, trying to go with him. If death was where he was going then she would go too. All too soon, he was gone.
Still she tried, but she couldn't escape her restraints, feeling one pair of hands spinning her around. As she turned she was met by a familiar face, one she knew so well, saw it everyday, yet she knew this wasn't Mackenzie. The cold black eyes and her stoney expression left Kiersten frozen in her place, the icy chill of her words hitting her like hitting concrete, knocking whatever breath was left in her away completely. "Stop." She said cruelly, the roughness of her voice was like sandpaper cutting the air, "He's dead. Just stop." Kiersten tried to look away from her dead sister's face but couldn't seem to move, the haunting way Vanessa filled her dreams like all her other demons was paralyzing. The last image engrained in her mind, those cold black, dead eyes, the same her Lance was left with before he was ripped away from her.
Kiersten's eyes flew open and she could hear herself screaming, but this time the rasp in her throat was real, burning so badly like she'd been screaming for hours. She was sobbing, and could feel her face was soaked with fresh hot tears as she struggled to catch her breath. She tried to take a breath but she was just gasping, and then the panic came. Eyes wide as she gasped, trying to take in a full amount of air but she was just hyperventilating, panicking, the anxiety consuming her body as she shook uncontrollably. Her heart was beating so fast in her chest, and she knew logically it wasn't right as she sat up in bed, pulling her knees up in front of herself but she just couldn't calm down. It was always like this, the waking up screaming, the crying uncontrollably, the sudden panic that consumes every fiber of her body. Kiersten struggled to slow her breathing, to get some kind if grip on herself, letting her head fall between her knees.
She didn't know how much time had passed as she tried to calm herself with out much luck. For as cold as she had been upon waking up she was now warm, hot flashes moving in waves through her body. She knew it was almost over though as her stomach started to pain her, holding one hand to her straining chest, and she lay back down. The dizzy spell came and she closed her eyes, feeling nauseous. How could this possibly happen to her. She just wanted it to stop, when would it stop? When would she be able to breathe, sleep soundly though the night, smile without knowing she was a terrible faker? When would the pain just go away? When would the same nightmare stop haunting her? The vision reappeared in her mind and as if someone had flipped a switch she shot up, stumbling through her room and into the bathroom. Not bothering to turn on the light, she found the toilet, vomiting. The thought of it made her sick, recalling the awful vision, the pain burning her heart. Just when she thought she might be okay, and the nightmares were letting up, she'd have a really bad episode like this. Kiersten finally took a deep breath, her chest gratefully filling up and she leaned back against the wall. Closing her eyes, she was met with the image of those same cold back eyes and her own snapped open again. He heart dropped again and she felt fresh tears fill her eyes again, the image of her sister filling her mind. She tried mot to let herself go back down this road again but before she knew it, a small pathetic sob shook through her. As she sat on the bathroom floor staring at the wall in front of her she let herself cry, thinking, I thought I was done doing this? When was she going to stop crying about Vanessa? She always thought one day she'd wake up and feel better but the guilt was still there. Going to her stupid piano recital. If Vanessa hadn't been trying to get there she wouldn't be dead. She thought of Lance and shook her head, "He's not dead," she reminded herself aloud. But, she thought to herself, he may as well be. For as much as she struggled and prayed to every god there was that she could please keep him, she still didn't have him. And that had been his choice she reminded her self furthermore. "He doesn't want you." No he didn't. And, she thought, why would he? She didn't deserve him really, he'd been so good to her. And she couldn't even protect him. And who wanted the broken, beaten girl who'd already been used up and been had like yesterdays trash anyways? She really couldn't do anything for him. Lance didn't need her. This brought her back to the daunting questions about her existence, wondering why she was even here. She just wanted it to stop, for everything to go away. It could be nice to end things. Maybe she was just being delusional. She was just so tired of this emptiness. It was ever consuming, and it was worse than she'd ever felt before Lance. Because now she'd had Lance and lost him and somehow that was worse to her, like getting the rug pulled out from under you just when you finally get back on your feet.
Kiersten sighed, physically tired, emotionally spent. Why didn't he want her anymore? Hadn't she still loved him? She didn't care that he was blind. And couldn't he see that it wasn't just him needing her, that she actually was the one that needed him? She needed to wake up and see him, needed to know he wasn't gone. She needed reassurance that he was still breathing and it wasn't just a bad dream. She needed him to wrap his arms around her and tell her it was fine, and he was fine, and she was okay, and that she hadn't just lost another person she loved. She needed it to be real when she woke up and didn't know what was real and what wasn't. She wanted to be able to look over and see the charming asshole with her own two eyes lying next to her so she didn't have to tell herself he wasn't dead, barely believing herself because half asleep she was never sure.
She just wished he would love her, like he used to. What had she done wrong? If he thought this was what was best for her he was poorly mistaken. This had to be what hell was like. Kiersten stood up weakly, so freaking tired but so terrified of falling back asleep. She moved back to her bedroom and sat down on the bed just relieved to be able to take deep breaths. Ellie wasn't home, thank god she was at Collin's. she didn't need to see her like this, no one did. And all Ellie ever did was look at her sadly. Kiersten didn't want to be looked at like a charity case. And she sure as hell wasn't going to call Mackenzie. Things for her sister had been going so well lately, she didn't need be bothered by her silly self. Even scanning the list of friends, she realized she didn't really want to bug anyone or that they wouldn't understand. Kiersten almost called Dani, since Dani could surely understand the Lance stuff, but reminded herself that Dani didn't really like her right now either.
Frustrated she got up and walked over to her desk, tossing around the numerous books she'd accumulated. She'd tried everything she could think of to try to occupy her own mind, from learning a new language, ( Italian, German.. Tried and given up on Japanese) to arts and crafts. She'd tried crocheting and knitting, cross stitch, tie dying, sewing. She tried writing poems but that was a horrible idea, though some good songs for Ellie had come out if it. She tried to do gourmet cooking but had sliced her own finger and decided against it. She made up dances, read self help books, tried to learn new instruments which was stupidly easy for her and became boring. Kiersten even looked into other college options, though miraculously she gotten into a few decent ones. Nothing seemed appealing, and nothing kept her mind off him for long. All the hobbies and activities in the world couldn't fill the empty spaces. All she wanted to do was sleep.
In an act of desperation, Kiersten compiled together all the alcohol, drugs, weed, whatever she could find in the apartment and starred at it longingly. Some combination in this pile was going to help her sleep and she was going to figure out what it was. Sleeping peacefully for one night was worth it to her. Even if it was the dumbest thing she ever did. She just wanted an empty mind for one night. A few hours even, just one good sleep with no dreams at all. Then maybe, she could have a little piece of mind.
Even still, she heard his voice, the soft sounds rolling across space to her ears, greedily taking in whatever of him was left for her to have. She heard his words, so even though she could almost feel him shaking as much as she was. Kiersten didn't know when her heart had begun to beat so desperately, trying so hard to call out to him. She wanted to tell him to run. Save himself from what was coming, save himself from the disaster that was her. Her voice seemed broken, like she was. It was as if someone had stuffed her throat full of peanut butter. She opened her mouth to yell but nothing happened. His words came out smoothly, Don't, you don't have to do this, she heard him say. It was like she sensed the hand on the gun tightening, the finger hovering strongly over the trigger. Kiersten couldn't stand the way her heart was threatening to burst through her chest, hating the familiar panic feeling; it was so unbearable. She was nauseous, her stomach leaping over itself terribly, shaking so badly she couldn't get a grip on her self enough to stand properly. Her breath was coming in quick gasps and she pulled herself forward, the deafening sound breaking the stillness in the dark room.
Just like that the faceless gunman was gone, but he left behind a mess she could never, ever fix. She couldn't pick up these pieces, couldn't put them back together. For all that Lance had done she couldn't even do the same for him. She was a useless being. Still, she screamed, the same deathly scream, gut wrenching. Her throats rasped out a noise she released from herself, like it was coming from the pit I her stomach. Kiersten struggled, fresh hot tears spilling over, sobbing so hard she couldn't catch her breath, screaming. Screaming to Lance, to the cold clammy hands holding her back, to anyone. She screamed and nothing changed. It was always the same. The way his body recoiled, always so strong and protective, a safe haven, was now crumbling miserably as he fell to the ground. Kiersten could only break free barely, the cold, gray skinned hands and arms tugging at her clothes and her legs threatening to rip her away from him. For a moment she held him, and everything was red. The warmth that spread across her own skin was unwelcome as she watched the life drain from his motionless body and she shook, sobs racking through her body. He was her everything, and he was dying right here in her arms. She wondered desperately if he knew that, that he was her everything. If maybe she could just hold onto him, she could fix him, but she knew it was no use. She couldn't breathe anymore, sobbing uncontrollably as she gasped for air. All too soon the hands came, yanking her back roughly and she tried so hard to hold onto him, knowing it would be the last time. The cold that swept over her skin was so chilling she shivered from top to bottom watching as the hands reached for him, pulling him up and taking him farther away. It was as if the room was stretching, lengthening, and he was farther and farther away, eyes as black as death itself and her heart burned. There wasn't anything she could do for him, what was the point of her? Lurching forward, she struggled, trying to go with him. If death was where he was going then she would go too. All too soon, he was gone.
Still she tried, but she couldn't escape her restraints, feeling one pair of hands spinning her around. As she turned she was met by a familiar face, one she knew so well, saw it everyday, yet she knew this wasn't Mackenzie. The cold black eyes and her stoney expression left Kiersten frozen in her place, the icy chill of her words hitting her like hitting concrete, knocking whatever breath was left in her away completely. "Stop." She said cruelly, the roughness of her voice was like sandpaper cutting the air, "He's dead. Just stop." Kiersten tried to look away from her dead sister's face but couldn't seem to move, the haunting way Vanessa filled her dreams like all her other demons was paralyzing. The last image engrained in her mind, those cold black, dead eyes, the same her Lance was left with before he was ripped away from her.
Kiersten's eyes flew open and she could hear herself screaming, but this time the rasp in her throat was real, burning so badly like she'd been screaming for hours. She was sobbing, and could feel her face was soaked with fresh hot tears as she struggled to catch her breath. She tried to take a breath but she was just gasping, and then the panic came. Eyes wide as she gasped, trying to take in a full amount of air but she was just hyperventilating, panicking, the anxiety consuming her body as she shook uncontrollably. Her heart was beating so fast in her chest, and she knew logically it wasn't right as she sat up in bed, pulling her knees up in front of herself but she just couldn't calm down. It was always like this, the waking up screaming, the crying uncontrollably, the sudden panic that consumes every fiber of her body. Kiersten struggled to slow her breathing, to get some kind if grip on herself, letting her head fall between her knees.
She didn't know how much time had passed as she tried to calm herself with out much luck. For as cold as she had been upon waking up she was now warm, hot flashes moving in waves through her body. She knew it was almost over though as her stomach started to pain her, holding one hand to her straining chest, and she lay back down. The dizzy spell came and she closed her eyes, feeling nauseous. How could this possibly happen to her. She just wanted it to stop, when would it stop? When would she be able to breathe, sleep soundly though the night, smile without knowing she was a terrible faker? When would the pain just go away? When would the same nightmare stop haunting her? The vision reappeared in her mind and as if someone had flipped a switch she shot up, stumbling through her room and into the bathroom. Not bothering to turn on the light, she found the toilet, vomiting. The thought of it made her sick, recalling the awful vision, the pain burning her heart. Just when she thought she might be okay, and the nightmares were letting up, she'd have a really bad episode like this. Kiersten finally took a deep breath, her chest gratefully filling up and she leaned back against the wall. Closing her eyes, she was met with the image of those same cold back eyes and her own snapped open again. He heart dropped again and she felt fresh tears fill her eyes again, the image of her sister filling her mind. She tried mot to let herself go back down this road again but before she knew it, a small pathetic sob shook through her. As she sat on the bathroom floor staring at the wall in front of her she let herself cry, thinking, I thought I was done doing this? When was she going to stop crying about Vanessa? She always thought one day she'd wake up and feel better but the guilt was still there. Going to her stupid piano recital. If Vanessa hadn't been trying to get there she wouldn't be dead. She thought of Lance and shook her head, "He's not dead," she reminded herself aloud. But, she thought to herself, he may as well be. For as much as she struggled and prayed to every god there was that she could please keep him, she still didn't have him. And that had been his choice she reminded her self furthermore. "He doesn't want you." No he didn't. And, she thought, why would he? She didn't deserve him really, he'd been so good to her. And she couldn't even protect him. And who wanted the broken, beaten girl who'd already been used up and been had like yesterdays trash anyways? She really couldn't do anything for him. Lance didn't need her. This brought her back to the daunting questions about her existence, wondering why she was even here. She just wanted it to stop, for everything to go away. It could be nice to end things. Maybe she was just being delusional. She was just so tired of this emptiness. It was ever consuming, and it was worse than she'd ever felt before Lance. Because now she'd had Lance and lost him and somehow that was worse to her, like getting the rug pulled out from under you just when you finally get back on your feet.
Kiersten sighed, physically tired, emotionally spent. Why didn't he want her anymore? Hadn't she still loved him? She didn't care that he was blind. And couldn't he see that it wasn't just him needing her, that she actually was the one that needed him? She needed to wake up and see him, needed to know he wasn't gone. She needed reassurance that he was still breathing and it wasn't just a bad dream. She needed him to wrap his arms around her and tell her it was fine, and he was fine, and she was okay, and that she hadn't just lost another person she loved. She needed it to be real when she woke up and didn't know what was real and what wasn't. She wanted to be able to look over and see the charming asshole with her own two eyes lying next to her so she didn't have to tell herself he wasn't dead, barely believing herself because half asleep she was never sure.
She just wished he would love her, like he used to. What had she done wrong? If he thought this was what was best for her he was poorly mistaken. This had to be what hell was like. Kiersten stood up weakly, so freaking tired but so terrified of falling back asleep. She moved back to her bedroom and sat down on the bed just relieved to be able to take deep breaths. Ellie wasn't home, thank god she was at Collin's. she didn't need to see her like this, no one did. And all Ellie ever did was look at her sadly. Kiersten didn't want to be looked at like a charity case. And she sure as hell wasn't going to call Mackenzie. Things for her sister had been going so well lately, she didn't need be bothered by her silly self. Even scanning the list of friends, she realized she didn't really want to bug anyone or that they wouldn't understand. Kiersten almost called Dani, since Dani could surely understand the Lance stuff, but reminded herself that Dani didn't really like her right now either.
Frustrated she got up and walked over to her desk, tossing around the numerous books she'd accumulated. She'd tried everything she could think of to try to occupy her own mind, from learning a new language, ( Italian, German.. Tried and given up on Japanese) to arts and crafts. She'd tried crocheting and knitting, cross stitch, tie dying, sewing. She tried writing poems but that was a horrible idea, though some good songs for Ellie had come out if it. She tried to do gourmet cooking but had sliced her own finger and decided against it. She made up dances, read self help books, tried to learn new instruments which was stupidly easy for her and became boring. Kiersten even looked into other college options, though miraculously she gotten into a few decent ones. Nothing seemed appealing, and nothing kept her mind off him for long. All the hobbies and activities in the world couldn't fill the empty spaces. All she wanted to do was sleep.
In an act of desperation, Kiersten compiled together all the alcohol, drugs, weed, whatever she could find in the apartment and starred at it longingly. Some combination in this pile was going to help her sleep and she was going to figure out what it was. Sleeping peacefully for one night was worth it to her. Even if it was the dumbest thing she ever did. She just wanted an empty mind for one night. A few hours even, just one good sleep with no dreams at all. Then maybe, she could have a little piece of mind.
