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9:06pm Mar 18 2013
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A faint ringing ran through his ears. A ringing that--after much thought and concentration--he identified as Kacey's. And sure enough, to his left, sat the distorted blur that was Kacey. She was holding something, though to him it was you guessed it, just another blur. A quite elongated one. "Whatever that is get that thing away from me" he groaned in response to her hand.
He looked hard at her, studied the forms, highlights and shadows, then at the room, analyzing and taking in the details. And then it hit him (or it was that his perspective was limited to the bottoms and legs of dressers.)
"How in the hell did I get down here?" |
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11:13pm Mar 18 2013 (last edited on 11:14pm Mar 18 2013)
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{ermahgerd I love this RP. I'm a slow reader and reading those eight pages took like all day, but daaanngg it was so worth it. Remind me to RP with you guys someday because you both deserve some kind of...RPing...Oscar...thing. And also remind me to draw Isiah with a pink headband sometime because he'd look so damn fabulous omg. I shall impatiently await the next post. That is all. //Slinks away //Returns awkwardly because she forgot to subscribe
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7:11pm Mar 20 2013
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Ooc; Thank you so much, sona. xD It feels good to know that someone enjoys our writing.
Bic;
Well, it was obvious enough that Isaiah was too far gone so Kacey dropped her hand in her lap and sighed. Her head swam and her brows dipped downward as she tried to righten the room. With a groan, she gave up and settled for staring down at Isaiah, which was pretty funny because he looked disoriented and because of looking disoriented, he also looked confused. Sluggish recognition touched his face and was followed by a question.
"Helpless," Kacey said and shook her head. She stood up a bit too fast (or at least tried to stand up) and ended up losing her balance. Her limbs were heavier, reflexes not as fast so she toppled right on Isaiah. Although she did manage not to thunk her head right against his, her nose bumped up against his, fingers curling in his shirt at the realization that she'd just fallen. On him.
"Oops," Kacey said and started to pull herself up.
hello my name is elder price
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8:01pm Mar 20 2013
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( That gif makes me so happy. Oh yes please do. Isaiah is just so damn fabulous, in everything he does apparently, even wallowing on the floor. :I )
Helpless? Excuse me. He snorted and attempted to respond with "Oh please, I'm not helpless" but only managed to get out "Oh please, I'm not helple--" before Kacey had fallen on him.
Wait, Kacey had just fallen...on him.
The room seemed to be silent, walls blackened and masked like some illusory figment, even the hard floor seemed to be nonexistent. The only thing that seemed to be real and "alive" was the steady rise-and-fall motion of his chest. He glanced up at her, eyes glazed over yet still sentient. The beating seemed to grow louder, intense, tormenting, irritating--ravaging the poor boy like the accursed heart did in Edgar Allan Poe's story.
"Oops." Kacey's words seemed to be a sort of trigger, breaking him out of his alcohol and drug induced paralysis. He reached up to grab her arm, pulling her back down.
His eyes searched hers. By now he could hear the deep throbbing that was radiating from his chest, fully aware that Kacey could probably hear it as well. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs and alcohol making him act like this, but whatever it was, he had to act fast. Without t hesitation he pulled Kacey closer, and pressed his lips against hers.
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8:17pm Mar 20 2013
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Kacey frowned when Isaiah grabbed her arm and she tried to give a tug, wondering just what the heck he was doing. Her eyes flickered back to his and she would have frozen at the look in his eyes. It wasn't hungry...nor was it desperate. Just an intense something that made traitorous butterflies flutter in her stomach. She had a clue of what was coming next, of what he wanted to do, and she was still in the middle of deciding whether to stop him or not--hey, she couldn't exactly think straight--before he'd tugged her against him and locked her there with his lips.
She could taste the smoke on his breath, a sweet tinge of alcohol too. Something about this felt wrong, but everything else felt so right. She melted then, tilted her head to the side, hair falling over one shoulder, and folded her lips over his with a fierce intensity. Her tongue teased his teeth as she grasped his bony shoulders with her hands; slender legs tightened against his sides. And then for a moment she drew back, breath heavy, eyes half open but unseeing. Conflicted feelings drove her mad and made her frustrated because she couldn't think straight. So she looked down at him and stared.
hello my name is elder price
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8:59pm Mar 20 2013 (last edited on 9:25pm Mar 20 2013)
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Everything about this moment felt so right. His hand tangled within her hair and he pulled her close, dominating her with his mouth and exhibiting that rough, aggressive ferocity that dwelled within the male species. His other hand ran down her back and grabbed at her shirt. He could smell the alcohol on her breath (and taste a bit of it too), but it was just another detail.
His hand grasped around her waist when she came up for air. And their eyes locked once again. It took him a few moments, but finally Isaiah had worked up the urge to speak.
"Do you want to go someplace more comfortable, love?" His voice was but a soft whisper, as he was just regaining his breath form the past moment. |
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9:35pm Mar 20 2013
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"Do you want to go someplace more comfortable, love?"
No. "Yes," she mumbled, her lips forming the word before she could decipher their intent. But who was she kidding? The only thing Kacey had on her mind right then was that moment, what was happening to them, and even the edges of that were blurry. A rush of heat had settled over her skin, the beginnings of a craving stirring in her chest. Isaiah's chest rose and fell beneath her, breaths labored like hers. Her fingertips trailed along his collarbone and then his torso as she sat up. Slightly shaky legs got her up on her feet, but she still felt woozy. Whether it was from the alcohol, the smoke that filled the room, or from Isaiah's kiss, she didn't know.
"I don't think---" she started and broke off as she sat down heavily on the side of the bed. Don't think what? she asked, but even she didn't know.
hello my name is elder price
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7:58pm Apr 23 2013
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Positively nothing could have prepared Isaiah for what was to come the following morning.
The alarm clock blared, (seems he was too 'distracted' by the events of last night to switch it off in preparation for the weekend), and the arm slung over his eyes motioned towards the machine, silencing the thing almost immediately. Of course it wasn't the poor things' fault that it was struck--and rather violently at that--as machines obviously don't program and shut off by themselves. He groaned, scraped away remnants of sleep from his eyes, then was struck with immediate panic--panic that his actions: the alarm, the sounds, the creak of the old worn-down bedspring, had awoken the sleeping figure next to him. A quick glance confirmed that she was still asleep, or at least appeared as so. The palm of his hand melded with his forehead as he stared hard at the rumpled bed sheets and contemplated his actions. Ultimately there was much to contemplate but could he really be blamed? He was, as it was considered, just a teenager, and alcohol and drugs combined with teenage morale (or lack of) always often-or-not lead to a bad idea. And that's just what this little interaction was: a bad idea. He drew in a breath, harnessed the will to rouse himself out of bed. The floor was cold, left alone from the heat of active company, causing his toes to curl inward in search of warmth. The air was no warmer. He stole a glance back towards the sleeping figured to make the window had remained closed; it was, so he just marked it up as the usual and casual 'morning-chill.' Prior to leaving, he glanced back again: the bed still a disheveled mess, the alarm tilted slightly to the right, the sunlight slowly peeking through the hal-cracked blinds, the bloodied, wrecked figure to the left, seeking solace in her realm of sleep. The poor girl would probably be more panicked than he was, and so he saw it right to disappear and let her awake naturally, mull over and think about things, how she should act and approach the situation.
Mrs Baker had a bench set up in back of the house; it seemed like a formidable place to unwind, plus it was in the vicinity of a nearby garden--and the window--so when Kacey decided to make her way out of bed she would have a clear picture of where to find him. Cool, crisp air stung at his nostrils, nose scrunching in response and hands diving into the pockets of his sweater. The right produced a cigarette; the left a lighter, both being put to use without a second thought or minute hesitation. He inhaled deep, eyes closing at the sensation. It was as if everything had hit him simultaneously. Mrs. Baker had a tree planted to right. He watched as a few birds danced and played among its' branches -- they seemed so lively and carefree, but of course they didn't have a situation like his to concern themselves with.
It was ethereal at the least, yet in that moment everything seemed so calm--but you know what they say--it was always calm before the storm, and by now the storm should be close to approaching.
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5:04pm Apr 25 2013
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Somewhere off in her dreams, Kacey heard the faint (and rather annoying) trill of an alarm clock. Her placid body, still not holding a working conscious, twitched slightly, head tilting into the pillow to at least smother one ear away from the sound. The bed sheets that hung half-off of the bed were tangled in her limbs and every twitch of her body made her more aware that she was getting closer to waking up. Then it was silent for a long time and the peace left her to drift back off for some time. Last night's exhaustion kept her under and didn't want to let her go.
However, sunlight streamed in through the window blinds and struck at her eyes. Her lashes fluttered and she yawned, looked at the adjacent wall and wondered where her dresser was. Confused, she sat up. Isaiah's room. Last night's events started trickling in through her mind at a sluggish pace but as the minutes passed and her body adjusted to being awake, the recall picked up in speed. Still pictures flashed through her brain, alcohol fuzz on the edges of her thoughts. There was pain, a lot of pain and upon sitting up, she felt it more than ever.
When she looked down at her body she stifled a yell. Red ribbons flayed her skin, just flesh wounds, just enough to draw blood, but the sight still scared the bejeebus out of her. Mottled bruising painted her a wonderful canvas of blues, greens, and yellows, along with the red. Her confusion turned into understanding; understanding then turned to hurt which in turn, flipped to anger.
"Dang coward left the dang room," she said and punched a pillow off of the bed. She slid off of the bed, sucking in a tight taste of the less-than-right-smelling air and looked around for her clothes. She spotted his backpack slouched up against the wall. It took her three and a half steps to reach it and start sifting through the contents of it. Unzipping and zipping pockets, only the zzz zzz sound of it filling the room while she searched for something in particular. She found a wad of bills near the bottom of the bag, held together with an elastic.
She took a twenty, figuring it would cover what she needed and more.
Then she worked up the courage to go to the bathroom. The sight of her neck made her still. It was still very tender when she patted it with a wet towel. Her body stung from head to toe and she was sore, regrettably in both a good and bad way. Kacey just kept looking in the mirror muttering "stupid stupid stupid" all over again.
Upon looking out the blinds, she saw him sitting on Mrs. Baker's bench, a cigarette dancing in between his lips. It was sexy, admittedly so, but every fiber of his being angered her right then. The taste of his lips was forgotten as she tromped down the stairs and slammed the back door into the yard wide open. "WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU!" she shouted and stopped a few feet away from him.
She knew it was pointless to yell because he'd simply write her off. She knew he'd done this before and she knew he didn't care about his consequences. He was fire and she'd gotten herself burned. Her bottom lip quivered, but she did her best to give him a death stare. "What did you say last night, that you were marking me as yours? That's sick. Sick. I'm going home. I don't freaking care what you do today or tomorrow or the next day or whatever. But don't you dare touch me again," she snapped and twisted on her heels and fists clenched, started to walk back to her house.
hello my name is elder price
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6:31pm May 5 2013 (last edited on 8:19pm May 5 2013)
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And so the storm had came.
Her gale force winds had penetrated the sails and veered the crew off course. Her waves had crashed and thrashed, bow wrenching, extending to the sky as it pleaded for some Heaven-sent relief. The deck crunching, port long gone and starboard clinging to its last glimpse of life. Her thunder and dreary skies claimed the area. Her current had laid claim on all passengers and drug them into the sea, down where all was lost and hope was just a memory. He was alone, the captain. Left to stand out on his decimated vessel and stare. One last look, her delicate, broken fr
ame flashed. One last look. Until, she was, gone.
He was alone, this time for real. He didn't dare look back at her and give her any satisfaction from the pained look on his face. The cigarette between his fingers dwindled, almost alarmingly as he filled his lungs with a constant rush of smoke. It had ran down to the filter, the last breath making him recoil and cough, which would be a great excuse if she happened to come back on a rare chance and see the clear streaks running down his face. Of course, being a gang member meant a loss of emotion--being a leader meant that you had be an even more of a perverse, sick, depraved individual--so crying was generally a sin to him.
"WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU!" As much as he would try to push it back he let out a choked mumble of "I don't know." "I don't know what's wrong." he repeated, sucking in another breath of tobacco-tinged air. It was at the filter, you weren't supposed to smoke the filter. When the cigarette reached that yellow line you were not supposed to smoke it -- he knew that, though something still drove him to. It was self infliction at the least. He knew it was damaging, a surging heat rolling down his throat, igniting his insides until every organ and cavity seemed to cry out with a bellow of 'Ow, stop, you idiot!' And he inhaled again, fresh flowers of pain blossoming all over, replacing the previous that hadn't begun to wilt. Finally he was forced to abandon the old cigarette. Everything within him breathed a sigh of relief...but the abuse was far from over. More along the lines of just beginning. He stood up, turning on the balls of his feet, then walked, hood over his face, to the Bakers place.
He dodged the rickety screen door and Mrs. Baker's concerned inquiry of whether he was 'feelin' quite all right' or not. She had been cleaning out a pan in the sink, the same one she used for Thursday nights' dinner, the same one that Isaiah had refused, and yet again confirmed her suspicions that the boy was suffering from an eating disorder. Truthfully, the boy did eat, though not much. Nicotine caused a decrease in appetite, and Isaiah smoked--a lot--every day, for hours at a time; plus he had a metabolism like a model that had just ingested a tapeworm. Mrs. Baker didn't follow up on her question, which gave him the perfect time to make his way into the bathroom, and acquire several containers of the Baker's pain medications. He took three pills from each, (the six would mix well with the capsules of Adderall and other medications he had stolen from his foster mother), pocketed them, turned again, then made his way upstairs. The door was already pried open from Kacey's outburst earlier, his shaky hands probably would have prevented him from opening the door anyway, which would have been a lifesaver in this situation. Though as fate would have it, it just wasn't meant to be. The bottle from the other night still sat in the corner, half empty, a bit had spilled out onto the floor. His thumb slid over the golden seal as he held it in his hand. There were no second guesses. No time to think things over. It was as if all the images of last night raced through his mind at his fingers' touch. It almost brought a pain to his body, like he were holding a bottle of hydrochloric acid that had already begun to break through and leak out into his fingers. First probing at his skin, then entering his body. It was as if he were chugging down a bottle of cyanide. Each muscle jerking and convulsing at its effects. Eroded edges bordered every memory, but they still kept coming back, and one thing in particular were her words from this morning.
"I don't freaking care what you do today or tomorrow or the next day or whatever." Then you won't care if I do this.
He unzipped the left pocket on his backpack. Pulled out three containers. Emptied their contents, then added in the six pills he stole from the Bakers.
"I don't freaking care what you do today..."
Shaking hands brought the pills to his mouth, swallowing half in first gulp and then downing the rest in a second, chasing them with his last bit of alcohol.
There was a bit of consciousness and then everything came to blurr. His fingers slid over the small six-shooter he had in the upper left pocket but before he could grab it he hit the ground.
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9:25pm May 5 2013
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The pain was awful. Once clambering into her truck and flipping down the overhead to look at her neck wound in the mirror, she was disgusted. How could he do that? She understood that drugs made people do some strange things, but this, this was way out of line. Anger rolled off of her in waves and she angrily threw her truck in reverse. Dirt kicked up behind her and she lurched in her seat as she stomped on the brakes, threw the truck back in drive, and gave it some gas to roar away from his house. In her rear view mirror, she saw Mrs. Baker behind the screen door of her front porch, eyes tight and worried. Kacey looked back at the road, then back at the mirror. She was gone.
If it were anyone else in any different situation, the money in Kacey’s pocket would have burned a hole through her jeans. She wasn’t the type of person to steal. Isaiah deserved it though and maybe there’d be heck to pay for it later, but she didn’t care. Her jaw was clenched, knuckles white with her iron grip on the steering wheel. She raised a hand and smacked the top of the wheel, letting out a noise in frustration. “I knew he was messed up. I knew it, I knew it,” she said under her breath.
Kacey couldn’t go walking around the way she looked though. When she pulled into the parking lot of the closest general store—which was on the outskirts of their little main plaza that consisted of most of the town—she fumbled in her glove compartment and found a strip of an old T-shirt she’d cut to wear for a fifty’s day event at school. After tying that around her neck and grabbing her sweatshirt out of the back seat, she kicked the door open to her car and walked into the store. Please Lord, don’t have Mayes workin’ here today, she thought. It would just be one more thing she’d need on her list of awful things today and, thankfully, the snide, gossipy woman wasn’t working today.
Phil was working today. He was basically a social pariah, one of his own choice. Things seemed to look up to Kace. In a murmur, she asked him for what she needed and he pulled a bottle of pills up from behind the counter, just the faintest frown and shake of his head following her request. He rang her up, took Isaiah’s money, and then handed Kacey the bag. Kacey gave him a short thanks and gathered herself back into her truck. She unscrewed the caplet to the pills and took what she needed. Nothin’ like the morning after, she thought.
Kacey let her truck idle in the lot. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. A deep, slow breath tickled her nose and she tried to find some type of peace within her haze of anger and frustration. The world slipped away from her and she might have fallen asleep, if it weren’t for the sirens that blared on the street next to her. She cracked one eye open as it zipped past the building and she would have paid it no mind, if she hadn’t spotted the car that was speeding right behind it. Kacey lurched in her seat and threw the truck in reverse. Her tires squealed as she pulled out of the lot and she sped after Mrs. Baker’s car.
“Damn it, Isaiah!” Kacey yelled. Her mouth tasted foul around the curse, but her outburst had a just cause. The hospital was just a few more blocks down. A team of paramedics was already out and ready when the ambulance got there. Mrs. Baker got out of her car in a much slower fashion, but she shuffled pretty darn fast through the double doors of their small hospital.
“Mrs. Baker!” Kacey said through her open window as she pulled in next to Mrs. Baker’s car. “What happened?” She joined the old woman who’d been waiting for her and the two walked inside. “He just—he was on the floor. I heard him just drop upstairs an’ I rushed right on up an’ he was there stiff as a board on the floor. I called fast as I could. There was bottles on the floor, pill bottles I think. Kacey girl, what happened?”
“Pill bottles,” Kacey repeated. One of the nurses was already questioning Mrs. Baker about the event and Kacey interjected. “He OD’d,” she said. “On what, I dunno. Will he be okay?” she asked. Even if she was mad at Isaiah, she didn’t want him to freaking die.
“We’ll have to get his stomach pumped. Y’all can stay here and we’ll update you on his progress,” she said and followed where Isaiah and the doctors had gone. Kacey took Mrs. Baker’s arm and sat down in the seat next to her.
“What happened?” Mrs. Baker asked.
Kacey shook her head. “We got into an argument. I don’t want to get into it,” she said and the older woman nodded. Kacey buried her face in her hands. “I shouldn’t a gotten as mad at ‘im as I did,” she murmured.
hello my name is elder price
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8:18pm May 6 2013
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It was now three forty-five. The pills had been ingested at around two ten and it took an additional thirty-five minutes for the paramedics to be dialed, arrive, and transport him safely to the hospital. An hour had gone by -- an hour after turning him on his left, fitting an Ewald tube through the nostril cavity, beginning the gastric lavage procedure -- an hour of one of the female intern's concerned face as she tallied up the contents siphoned out of the boy's stomach. The nurse at the far left, the one who was the obvious doll and sure enough did this with every patient whether they were unconscious or not, ran her hand along the side of his head, as she knew that whatever ounce of consciousness he did have had to be giving the poor thing a heart attack at about right now. "Easy 'sug, we're almost done." The nurse who was running the tube gave her a look, then went back to her business.
At five fifty the double doors swung open and out walked one of the nurses, clipboard in hand.
"Well," she said, clearing her throat then glancing down at the clipboard for what she had to say, "We've done all that we could. For confidentiality, I won't go into the exact concentration, but his stomach contained traces of Diazepam, Xanax, Oxycontin, Adderall, and Aspirin -- all of these are over the counter, preion drugs that I advise you to keep a closer watch on. He's okay for now, but next time we might not be so lucky. Now it doesn't contribute to the overdose but we've also found high concentrations of THC and domestic hallucinogenic drugs and methamphetamines. Now Mrs. Baker, it would be up to you, but I'd like to talk with you for a moment about admitting him for a while to get him fully detoxified. " At their leave, a much more hospitable and less fastidious nurse made her way over to address Kacey. "You're welcome to come back and see him. He's still under but at least you know he's alright."
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4:10pm May 7 2013 (last edited on 4:10pm May 7 2013)
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No one else had been in the hospital. Their town wasn’t very busy, hence the building being so small anyway. If someone needed surgery or an operation, they needed to go into the city about a twenty minute drive away and go to the medical center there. So Kacey just sat there in the waiting room, population of said room only two, three if you counted one of the nurses that kept popping in to check on them and ask if they wanted anything to eat or drink. Kacey declined each time—she felt sick, which was ironic, sort of. Her stomach was knotted, fingers lacing and unlacing as her foot tapped on the ground. Mrs. Baker commented once saying, “Kace, you look like you been rode hard an’ hung dry,” which, Kacey guessed she probably did. Her exhaustion dragged at her relentlessly and only wore on as she sat there through the agonizing minutes, just waiting for someone to walk through those double doors again. She never said anything back to Mrs. Baker and she knew the older woman was just as worried as she was.
When the doors opened again, Kacey was right on her feet. “Well, we’ve done all that we could. For confidentiality, I won’t go into the exact concentration, but his stomach contained traces of Diazepam, Xanax, Oxycontin, Adderall, and Aspirin – all of these are over the counter, preion drugs that I advise you to keep a closer watch on. He’s okay for now, but next time we might not be so lucky.” Next time we might not be so lucky. Kacey’s mouth was a thin line and concentrating on that one sentence made her miss the rest of what the nurse was saying. Mrs. Baker was walking off with her, nodding her head and still looking worried as ever.
“You’re welcome to come back and see him. He’s still under but at least you know he’s alright.” “Uh, oh, okay,” she said and followed her through the doors to Isaiah’s room. She was cautious as she walked in, pausing a moment after her foot touched down onto the tile in the room. Seeing Isaiah was strange—it made her angry all over again, but that anger was hollow; it had no more fight in it. Now she felt two more things: sadness and guilt. The nurse pulled up a chair for her, right next to him, and she sat down. When Kacey didn’t say anything, the nurse told her she would come back to check on him and then left the room without another word.
“You idiot,” Kacey mumbled. “That little fight ain’t worth your life. ‘Sides, I’d a come around one way or another, eventually. Darn near scared Mrs. Baker to death. You ought a know her heart can’t take it. Scared me too.” She knew he couldn’t hear her, but maybe subconsciously her words were reaching him. She’d learned something about that in Psych class. She really didn’t know what else to say so she just took his hand and rubbed circles in his palm with her thumb.
hello my name is elder price
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5:48pm May 7 2013 (last edited on 5:51pm May 7 2013)
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"He mean something to you, hun?" The nurse had asked on her return. She busied herself with replacing the saline solution in Isaiah's IV. "Easy there, bud, the needle moved out of the vein so I've got to reset it." she soothed, the action warranting an involuntary twitch. "Little fella took quite a hit" she said while wiping down the tables and moving the bagged remnants of the surgery. "Don't think I've ever seen that much substance in a human before. Now I haven't been here much, but it's still something." "But he's alright now." she flashed both of them a smile. "Doc's were talkin' about keeping him for a while, sayin' it might be for the best. I agree with 'em. Would be good for this one."
At a thirty-minute mark the door creaked open.
"Nurse Parsons." Marina Parsons--aka the fastidious nurse from before--had reentered the room, clipboard in hand with Mrs. Baker standing to her right. "Come with me, please." she ordered, and the two took their leave.
"Kacey dear," Mrs. Baker stood in the doorway holding a slip of paper in her hand. "The doctors are gonna keep him here for a bit. You're welcome to stay but I'm gonna head back, Tex'll be expectin' dinner at about now. You take care, and don't worry, he's gonna be jus' fine."
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8:34pm May 7 2013
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“Kinda,” Kacey replied when the nurse asked if Isaiah meant something to her. She took her eyes off of the boy and watched the nurse change something in the cord thingy that was running into Isaiah’s arm. The sight of the cord didn’t bother her in the least—blood and gory things never really affected her all too much. She was fine with needles too. It sort of annoyed her, the small talk that the nurse was making. It was almost like talking behind Isaiah’s back—not that she should really care right then, but still.
Kacey started to ignore her and it was only when the door opened again did she look back up from staring at Isaiah’s resting form. “Kacey dear, the doctors are gonna keep him here for a bit. You’re welcome to stay but I’m gonna head back, Tex’ll be expectin’ dinner at about now. You take care, and don’t worry, he’s gonna be jus’ fine.” Hearing the words coming out of Mrs. Baker’s mouth consoled her more than the nurses did, even if Kacey knew them all personally on some degree.
“I’ll be stayin’ here. Could ya tell my momma where I’m at if they’re home yet?” she asked. The woman’s eyes pinched and she nodded. Kacey shifted around in the hard plastic of her seat, still not letting go of Isaiah’s hand. She sighed and with her free hand, touched the scarf around her neck. “I still ain’t forgiven you for this, but I s’pose everyone deserves a second chance.”
hello my name is elder price
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6:38pm May 18 2013
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"That your boyfriend or something?"
At thirty-five, Marina Parsons had a penchant for knowledge. She was quick to the draw with intelligence but she could also pick up on another's aura -- Call it a mother's intuition, (Parsons being a mother of two girls), but by the way Kacey was holding that boy's hand she knew he had to mean something. Not to mention that she had never seen him in all her life until today. "Little druggie he is." Parsons also was not shy of forming opinions, and she had even less a problem with letting them manifest. Unfortunately from her comment one would assume that she did not think too highly of Isaiah. She penciled in a couple things--scribble-scratch hospital code as one would call it--assessed a program on her computer, marked down a few days on an old dry-erase board. Her watch had read seven-thirty. "Visiting is over at eight. You have an hour." She stated, almost mechanically one might add. "We're punctual here Kacey, so I expect to see you leaving those doors at around seven-fifty-nine. Now you take care, and keep your little boyfriend out of trouble, it would greatly benefit us all."
(dearsweetholyluciferthistooksolongandit'ssoshorturgh)
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4:27pm Jun 5 2013
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"He ain't my boyfriend," Kacey muttered. The woman was starting to irritate him, especially when she breathed her contempt for him with a single statement. Kacey noticeably bristled, but said nothing, instead staring straight at Isaiah's face and trying to ignore her increasing annoyance upon hearing the nurse's pencil scratch against paper. It was when she dismissed herself and left a few parting words that Kacey relaxed. The room had an eerie sort of quiet to it and hearing Isaiah's breaths sort of freaked her out.
"Why the heck'dya do it?" she said under her breath and leaned back in her seat. She let go of his hand and tugged on the makeshift scarf she'd put around her neck, craned her head back to try to look at the wound, yes she was calling it a wound, that marred her flesh. It still stung and hurt all over and she sure as heck hadn't forgiven him just yet. "Imma leave 'fore I strangle ya in bed. Seeya tomorrow," she said and stood up, leaving without another word or a backward glance.
Ooc; ohgoshoghsohg i'm sorry okay. school just got out omg so i will have time for this again. /shotshotrepeatedlyshot
hello my name is elder price
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2:47pm Jul 17 2013
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Normal User
Posts: 1,459
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(May Beelzebub have mercy on my soul if there are any mistakes in this post. I've been away from roleplaying for so long Any who, let's revive this ol' thing while I have my week of internet then let it die again, shall we? c: )
"Well then, suit yourself." Again stated, at thirty-five Marina had a penchant for knowledge; though not a penchant for dealing with uppity teenagers. Quite frankly they most often-or-not drove her crazy--and if that was the case, then Isaiah and her would get along just swimmingly and these weeks to come would be a grueling exercise in mental strength, stamina, and how well one could tolerate the creative and berating insults of a catty teenage boy. She tucked a stray honey-blonde strand behind her ear, re-situated her cap, then left with nothing more to say on the matter but a stiff "Remember: seven-fifty-nine." Due to her usual tendencies and low support rate in those younger than her, she returned exactly at eight-o'-clock on the dot to see if her demands had been met. They were, though the chair seated off to the left of the bed made her temperature rise. "Stay cool Marina. She left like you wanted her to, see? She just left her chair that's all.." Disorder was a thing she tolerated less than children; with Marina everything needed a place, time and reason--and that was that. She made only a little bit of a scene as she tugged the chair over and stacked it on top of the others up in the rooms' supply closet.
"I'm just going to move that back over after you leave." "No you ain't." Marina turned around to sternly address the voice behind her. "You don't talk like that." "Excuse me?" At this rate Marina was practically furious. She stood up straight, adjusted her cap, stuck out her pointer finger, and responded with a bellow of "Now look here, boy. Who are you to come on up in' here an' tell me how to talk." "We're punctual here Kacey, so I expect to see you leaving those doors at around seven-fifty-nine.... You use proper grammar and enunciate your words." Oh I'll show you punctual. Marina huffed. "You're asleep. How in God's name are you even able to remember what I said?" "It's basic psychology, sweetheart." "Basic pshycholo--" Marina pinched her brow and bowed her head as she let out a breath. "Okay, fine, would you prefer if I talk like this?" "I'd prefer you to leave." " And I'd prefer if you--" Isaiah raised an eyebrow as he waited for her to finish her sentence. "Fine," she snapped, turning on her heels. "Oh, and by-the-way, your little girlfriend stopped by to see you this evening." "She's not my..." At this rate his little pang of consciousness was about over. In approximately two minutes he would be back under; one was spent turning onto his side, and one was spent with saying "...okay...whatever...I don't... care" before drifting off to sleep.
"Good." Mumbled Mrs. Parsons before stepping out of the doorway. A time. A place. A reason -- she always had to have the last say in everything.
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9:46pm Jul 17 2013
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Normal User
Posts: 3,828
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“For the last time, it ain’t any of y’alls business,” Kacey snapped, rising from her chair in too-quick a manner and knocking it over. Her mother flinched and went to set it back on its feet, but Kacey’s father kindly told her to leave the room so he could talk to his daughter. He ordered her to pick up the chair, which she did. He told her to sit back down, which she did. He told her to talk to him, which she didn’t.
“Kacey Austin Richards, I raised a fine girl outta you an’ she ain’t one ta lie ta her pa.”
“I ain’t lyin’ bought nothin’,” Kacey said and dropped her head in her hands. “I dunno what happened, pa. I said some things I shouldn’t a an’ then I left. The rest is my personal business and I intend a keep it thataway.” She paused, looked at him through her fingers. “Please just listen ta me. I’m still shook up ‘bout all it.” His eyes softened and he reached forward to touch her arm. Grip tightening, he pulled her over to him—she had to skirt around the edge of the table—and into his lap. She nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder, breathed in his cigarette and woodsy scent and sighed.
“Get yourself on up ta bed now, ya hear? You still gotta work them horses tomorrah ‘fore you see that boy. I ‘spect Mrs. Baker be wantin’ ya tomorrah, too so y’all can go together.”
Kacey untangled herself from her father’s embrace and nodded to him, too weary for words at this point. Mrs. Richards came back in to take her seat at the dinner table and their low murmurs weren’t exactly comforting as Kacey clambered up the stairs to her room. She tossed on sleeping clothes, took off her bloodied makeshift scarf and collapsed into bed.
He coulda died ‘cause a you. She squeezed her eyes shut, took in deep breathes. Inhale. Exhale. Thoughts like that continued to press in on her tired, aching mind and she struggled to breathe in a steady tandem. And finally, when the moon started its descent to chase the sun into the air for the new day, Kacey finally slipped off to sleep.
hello my name is elder price
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12:23pm Aug 5 2013
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Normal User
Posts: 1,459
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o;;
guess who has wifi at home and won't be dead online now
bringing this thing back to life after some lunch |
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