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paradisa2013-10-10 06:52 pm
delincuente) wrote in paradisa2013-10-10 06:52 pm
Entry tags:
thirty-seven detention slips
[It's just after dark when a handwritten note appears in the journal, short and tentative, written in the first ballpoint pen Alex can find in her bedroom. There are no purple sparkles, no loopy letters. It's quick and blunt.]
Well. Time to add "getting murdered" to my list of Things Never to Do Again.
[Humor can still fall flat in writing. Alex debates adding a smiley face or something, just to try to prove that she's okay and that she can deal with this. She's alive, and that's something. That's grand. But her throat hurts and she can feel the prickle of an ugly scar on her chest. Something deep inside her feels broken. She wants to go home, back to Waverly Place and the family she thought she'd stopped missing so badly a long time ago. She wants to wait tables and go to detention and remember what her brothers' voices sound like.
It blows her mind to know that, one day, she might be back amongst all that. Sixteen again and so oblivious, with no memory of getting her chest carved open in a cold, empty hall. She'll have forgotten the raw awareness that it's put in her. She'll have forgotten that she's not untouchable.
In smaller, messier letters, she filters a very short message to all of her friends: ]
Hey. I'm back.
[That business over with, she wishes up a set of warm clothes - despite her request for pajamas, a pair of jeans and an itchy sweater materialize. Instead of sticking around to question that, however, Alex just dresses quickly and heads down to the kitchen, uncharacteristically quiet.]
((ooc: wherein "friends" means, if your character knows her enough to care, then the journal will let them see it, whether or not it's her direct intention.))
Well. Time to add "getting murdered" to my list of Things Never to Do Again.
[Humor can still fall flat in writing. Alex debates adding a smiley face or something, just to try to prove that she's okay and that she can deal with this. She's alive, and that's something. That's grand. But her throat hurts and she can feel the prickle of an ugly scar on her chest. Something deep inside her feels broken. She wants to go home, back to Waverly Place and the family she thought she'd stopped missing so badly a long time ago. She wants to wait tables and go to detention and remember what her brothers' voices sound like.
It blows her mind to know that, one day, she might be back amongst all that. Sixteen again and so oblivious, with no memory of getting her chest carved open in a cold, empty hall. She'll have forgotten the raw awareness that it's put in her. She'll have forgotten that she's not untouchable.
In smaller, messier letters, she filters a very short message to all of her friends: ]
Hey. I'm back.
[That business over with, she wishes up a set of warm clothes - despite her request for pajamas, a pair of jeans and an itchy sweater materialize. Instead of sticking around to question that, however, Alex just dresses quickly and heads down to the kitchen, uncharacteristically quiet.]
((ooc: wherein "friends" means, if your character knows her enough to care, then the journal will let them see it, whether or not it's her direct intention.))