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theskyeandsea · 4 years ago

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When You Get What You Want... || Cutler & Skylar

Timing: Late January 19th, shortly after this chatzy

Location: Clarke’s Convenience Store

Tagging: @clarkesconvenience & @theskyeandsea

Description: Skylar’s rampage around town continues; Cutler offers a helping hand.

Warnings: Drug use, addiction, body horror, memory loss, medical blood

Disoriented and covered in flour and blood, Skylar stumbled down the road away from the shop, a giddy smile still on her face as her feet began to skip across the pavement. She bounded down the road before turning abruptly, eyes caught by the displays in the window. Staggering forward, she pressed her fingers against the glass and the same sticking sensation filled her. The atoms and molecules and all the tiny parts of what made her a person shifted until she was crashing into the center of the convenience store. With a dazed grin on her face, Skylar began to push displays over. Blood trickled down the side of her face from her ear, a clean jagged section of her earlobe ripped free and stuck in the glass of the convenience store. She barely noticed as the liquid splattered across the clean floors while she shoved at the shelves. Cutler had been mentally preparing himself for a break-in since he had come home. It was bound to happen eventually, as it had for his parents several times over the course of his childhood. When it did, he would handle it the same way his parents had: with calm, slow movements and total compliance.

It didn’t go that way.

For one thing, he had expected it to happen while the shop was open and the money would still be in the register. Instead, the crashing sound of displays being toppled downstairs had awoken him in the early hours of the morning. The cool and collected man of his practiced break-in fantasies was quickly replaced with a groggy version of himself in a wrinkled t-shirt and boxers, squinting in the dim light.

Slowly, he took in the scene before him in pieces. Spidery crimson tracks spilling down pale skin and dripping onto waxed tile, collapsed shelving units spilling all manner of dried goods onto the floor, and a familiar, crazed look behind wide, dark pupils. He had dealt with this many times in the ER. Well, maybe not this, exactly, but he knew intoxication when he saw it. His hand hovered over the light switch to his right and he called out before clicking the buzzing fluorescents on above them, “You need some help.” A statement, not a question; carried with the arrogant weight of medical school behind it. “I can patch that up for you.”

Stepping on bags of spices, Skylar took particular joy in watching as the dried herbs crumbled under her shoes. She ran her hand along the shelves, knocking more and more of the goods onto the ground, blood dripping across the crinkly bags. And then, she realized she wasn’t alone. Someone had entered from the back of the shop. Skylar spun around to look at him, tilting her head at him quizzically. “Help? I don’t need help, I have all the help I need.” She said with a giddy smile on her face, her teeth bright and gleaming in the lowlight. “Don’t want patches, nope, I don’t need another patchwork skin, nuh uh.” She said to herself, rubbing the sores on her arms as she spoke. She could feel something leaking from the raw abscesses that dotted her legs, but the pain was like a distant memory, far far away from her right now.

Bright white light washed over the store, revealing the full extent of the damage. Product littered the floor under the shifting soles of his unsteady guest. Cutler dropped his hand from the light switch and walked forward, sidestepping the lentil spillage by his feet. “Uh huh.” The wheels in his mind ground against each other, desperately trying to wake up in time to process the finer details of the situation that wouldn’t come together. Sharpened teeth inside a lazy grin and his front door still locked and unbroken; pieces of a puzzle that refused to click. “Can I take a look?” The wounds on her body were various levels of depth and severity, ranging from dark and old to bright and fresh. The whip-sharp crack of a brown paper bag crinkling under his foot caused him to freeze in place. He stared, cautious and gentle, afraid she would startle like a wild animal. His hand extended slowly, pale pink underside raised to her in timid surrender. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You know it makes it worse when you scratch them.” His voice continued in a muted string of comforting sound, filling the space between them. “Nothing intensive. Just get something on that ear, stop the bleeding. Do a once over for breaks and fractures, maybe disinfect those sores. If it’s food you want, I can get you some of that, too.”

Skylar watched as the man continued to walk towards her, slow, so slow. She didn’t want to slow down, she didn’t want to pause to stop and think and let all the thoughts she’d left behind catch back up to her. She just wanted to ride this wild, cresting high as far as it would take her and this man? No, no, no, he seemed like he’d put a stop to it. When he asked to look at her, Skylar squinted at him. “Why?” She asked. He took another step and then froze for some reason that she wasn’t quite sure of. There was a muffled sound, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Running her finger tips around her ears, Skylar remembered why. “Oh, that makes sense.” She said, tapping the place where her hearing aids normally rested. Focusing back on the man, she laughed. “You can’t hurt me, even if you wanted to. Even if I wanted you to,” Skylar paused, staring down at the blood that covered her. Looking up at him abruptly, she asked, “Do you think I need help?” Cutler watched her fingers lower from her ears, slick with blood. There was no alarm in her face as they came away, only a laugh that felt discordant and wrong. Even if I wanted you to. When her eyes met his, he felt his heart clatter against his ribcage with deafening irregularity. Something distinctly inhuman looked back at him. Or maybe it was the lack of something. “I do.” He replied, hoping his honesty would cut through the frenetic, animalistic energy to the person behind it. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Accepting help.”

Another step toward her. She was almost within his reach now. He blinked slowly, a prayer running across the back of his eyelids: Please don’t fight me. “At the very least, let me get some gauze on that. You’re bleeding all over my floor.” His hand reached up and touched his own ear instinctively, brushing against his full intact earlobe. He ran his tongue across the flat backs of his own teeth, feeling the square edges. Hers were definitely unnatural. Modified, maybe. “I haven’t even asked your name. How rude of me.” A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, echoing the grin he might have worn in lighter circumstances. “I’m Cutler. And you are?”

He thought she needed help. But so had everyone else and that wasn’t what she’d wanted. Erin and Morgan and Leah and even Shiloh and Rio. They all said they wanted to help, but how could she know that? Skylar mulled over his words, tapping her fingers against her chin, ignoring the way the pads of her fingers stuck to her skin. All of them knew her, they all knew her and they knew what she was and who she was and even if they didn’t know why she was-- Skylar didn’t know why she was even though she could remember every pretty little pill she’d swallowed-- they knew what she should be. And this man didn’t. So maybe that made his help real. “Okay.” She said blithely, not realizing how much tension hung between the two of them. “Oh, but there is. Because people will help you and help you and help you and then one day, they leave. Because they’re too tired of putting up with all your shit and think it’s better to quit while they’re ahead.” She said earnestly.

At the mention of his floors, Skylar glanced down to the mess of crushed herbs and ruined inventory that were spattered with a thick trail of blood. “Oh. Whoops. I have a lot,” She said with a nod, before gesturing around at the mess. “Of blood. Lots of blood. This is… probably okay.” She said with a shrug. Squinting at him, Skylar repeated his name. “Cut-ler.” She let out a slight giggle, wondering where her knife had gone. Cutler. She could make that literal. “I’m Skylar.” She said, before looking expectantly at him. “So, are you going to help me not bleed all over your floors?”

Cutler listened intently. Someone had hurt this girl, and he didn't intend to be the next in the long line of grievances she had suffered. "If people desert you, that's their shame. Not yours." The contempt in his voice bled through and he swallowed it back down into his stomach. "I'm not going anywhere."

He followed her gaze down to the floor, and back up to her nonchalant shrug. "That's me. You ever go by Sky? I've gone by Cut to my friends." His mouth moved on it's own, giving his mind a chance to catch up with the unreality of the situation.

"It is a lot of blood, huh. Whooole lotta blood. Still limited supply, though." A deep sigh shot downward as his hands drifted to the resting spot on his hips where his apron drawstrings usually hung. He focused his gaze back on Skylar, unwilling to think about the cleanup he was going to have to do later. Alone, of course. No insurance company is gonna cover an illegal surgery. "Let's get something on that. I've got supplies back here. Gauze and tape and uh, all sorts of stuff. You need a hand?"

Shrugging, Skylar’s mind wandered to all the people she’d loved, who’d left this place, who’d left her behind because they had to go. Nic and Winston and Remmy, they’d left. They hadn’t abandoned her, not the way Ricky and her parents had, but they’d left this town and they’d left her too. “Sometimes people leave and that’s just what happens. And then you’re left trying to figure out who you were without them.” Skylar said with a nod.

“S-K-Y-E, yup. Just friends, though.” She said as she followed behind him, her footprints leaving thick smears against the linoleum flooring of the shop. At his question, she shook her head vigorously. “I don’t want a hand, nope, nope. Got two right here, don’t need more.” She said. “One of my friends kept losing their hands, but now they’re gone.” Skylar said, mostly to herself. “Gone, gone, gone.”

Cutler led the way to the back of the store, propping the EMPLOYEES ONLY door open with a coffee can of ice salt. “Alright, no hands. No problem.” Beyond the crack of the door, a grey cement room stared back at them, devoid of all the usual upholstery; no shelving, or paint, or tiling. The floor sloped ever so slightly downward, puckering at a large metal drain. Under the naked bulbs above him, he knelt to root through a box, pulling out various medical supplies and glancing over every so often to assess the damage.

“Skylar.” He called back, tendons in his neck jumping with the strain. “What hurts? Can you tell me if anything hurts inside?” As he ambled back toward her, his gaze shifted from sympathetic to critical, mind kicking into higher gear. Silicon gloves rolled down his wrists and his hand paused inches from her lesioned arm, waiting for permission. “Is there any point in me telling you to get rest after this?”

Skylar hadn’t been in the back rooms of many stores before, but she had a feeling that they didn’t look much like this. Staring around as he began to pull things out of a box, Skylar’s attention dropped back to the floor as she watched droplet after droplet of greyish red splash against the tile. They began to form a small trickle, flowing down, down, down the drain. At Cutler’s words, Skylar looked up and looked at him. “Nothing hurts. Nope, nope, can’t feel anything.” She said and, to prove it, she reached up with her fingers and grasped the chunk of her ear and pulled on it. Blood ran down her fingers, but she didn’t flinch because there wasn’t any pain to feel. It was all just light and bright and nothing at the same time. Holding out her arms, she shrugged. “I can rest. Sometimes I lie down in the woods for hours and hours.” She replied.

Cutler's lips parted in protest, too late to stop her from tugging on her ear. They came back together in a constricted wince. Crimson slick coated her hand and he redirected his attention from her unusual lesions to the fresh tear beside her face. "Okay. Alright. Let's clean this up." His voice was robotically measured, practiced bedside matter. Whether he was trying to steady her or himself, he wasn't entirely sure. "No pain is good. This still might sting, though. Let me know if you want me to stop."

The act of cleaning a wound is intimate by necessity. In close quarters, he could see the rise and fall of her chest below him and the heat of her skin under the sanitizing pad. He afforded her a gentle smile. It didn't say everything he wanted to say; that he too, had lain for hours in the forest while intoxicated. That he has, on more than one occasion, injured himself while drunk and mercifully felt no pain. Instead, he opted for a subtler approach. "Mhm. That sounds nice. Peaceful. Stay still for me if you can, Skylar." The skin of her neck started to become visible as he fastened a series of bandages to the area and wiped away the gore with soft, consistent movements. "Do you know what you took?"

Skylar was barely aware of the gauze pressed against her face. She could smell the sharp of the alcohol as it was used to clean her wounds, but the moment it touched her flesh, it felt like nothing at all. There was no pain, there was no pressure, there wasn’t even hot or cold. Her entire existence was just the manic thrum of excitement and giddy happiness that she had no control over. “Nope, it doesn’t hurt. You can keep doing your stuff.” She said and let Cutler wash away the blood. Sitting still was hard, but she managed it, even as her fingers felt like they wanted to sink into the nearest wall. She couldn’t do that, no, he wanted her to stay still. And he was helping her.

“Oh, it’s really nice. Really, really nice. Sometimes I’d just stay out there for days and days, because it was better than having to feel. But this, this is even better than that. Because I’m just so happy. So, so happy. I’ve never felt this happy before.” Skylar said breathily. At his question, Skylar grinned, remembering the way the pills had looked in the palm of her hand, the way the smoke had burned in her lungs, the soft burn of the Bliss as it ran through her veins. “Some pills, something in a cigarette, a mushroom or three and lots and lots of Bliss.” She said, her expression dreamy as she thought about the box of “supplies” she had stashed away back in her room.

Cutler concentrated on not letting his concern bleed through his expressions as he listened, resisting the downturn of his mouth and darkening of his brow. His hands moved from wound to wound, adept at giving them exactly the amount of attention they needed before moving on. When he had addressed everything in his view, he extended the white bundle of gauze toward her. “If there’s anywhere else. Underneath your-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Of course he understood that sores don’t end at the boundaries of his patient’s clothing. It was more than likely that she had significant injuries that weren’t immediately visible. But she hadn’t come to him as a client, and he wasn’t about to start peeling clothing off a vulnerable woman, even to help her. “I need to make a quick call, anyhow. Do you mind?” His thumb was already swiping through a digital rolodex of old work contacts, distant friends, and exes. “I’ll be right over here, and you can call me if you need help. How does that sound?”

Skylar didn’t notice the way that Cutler’s expression shifted, she was more focused on the way her fingers were wrapped in gauze. Already, she could see the tips of white beginning to darken as blood soaked through the cloth. What started out as pinpricks of color blossomed into thick circles and Skylar pressed her fingers against the side of the wall, watching as the blood spread through the gauze. As he handed her another roll of gauze, Skylar looked at it blankly for a moment before realizing what he was saying. That’s right, she had the gash-- a gaping slash, a gash-- on her side. Mm, she should take care of it.

With clumsy hands, Skylar slid her hands under her shirt and pressed the pad of gauze against her bleeding side. It was hard wrapping the bandages around, but she managed it after a bit of effort. At Cutler’s words, Skylar tilted her head. “What are you doing?” She asked, standing back up, the world shifting around her as she did. Her head felt light, lighter than air, as her vision went black round the edges, but she didn’t care. Taking a step forward, Skylar shook her head. “Who are you calling?” Doctors? Hunters? People who’d poke her, prod her, hurt her, kill her? No, no, no.

Cutler’s eyes only flicked down to his hand for a moment, enough to dial but not enough time for his impromptu patient to injure herself further. He hoped. Next to his ear, the phone rang out. Once, twice. In his periphery, Skylar wrapped the gauze around her body. She looked strangely fragile in the unshaded bulbs; white fluorescents piercing sickly pale skin to sharp bone underneath. “I’m just making a call.” His chin tilted upward, speaking away from the still-ringing cell. Before he could come up with a lie that she would accept-not that he thought he had one ready-the soft click over the phone alerted him to the presence of someone on the other end.

He shifted away slightly, hoping the broad slopes of his shoulders would shield the storage room from the soft words he was speaking into the phone. “Hi, it’s Cut. Sorry about the hour. Yeah, yeah, long time. Listen, I need a favour. Do you still work at the Crisis Response Unit? I’ve got a young woman here who’s in distress. No cops, she just needs-” He was interrupted by scuffling behind him, turning just in time to see Skylar getting to her feet. She swayed so slowly that the room seemed to tilt with her. “Skylar-” His protest died in his throat as she lurched forward with surprising intensity, causing him to take a mirroring step backward. She was substantially smaller than him, but something in her eyes caused his heart to leap to his throat. It took another step forward for him to recognize it. Hatred. “It’s just an old friend. She might be able to help you. Better than I can.”

As the man turned his back on her, Skylar’s ears strained to pick up his hushed tones. She couldn’t pick up specifics, but her mind was already buzzing with possibilities of who was on the other line. Her eyes flicked around wildly, looking at the strange utensils that were laid out neatly on the table he’d taken her to. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered that this was… a store. A shop in the center of town. With packets of chips and gum but also scissors and scalpels and gauze and gloves. Lips curling into a feral grimace, Skylar reached out and grabbed one of the shiny silvery tools from the table and pointed it at Cutler.

“Put down the phone.” Skylar said clearly, glaring at him while blood pounded in her ears. She could stab at him, plunge the tip of the scalpel into his chest over and over and over. She could lunge at him and bury her teeth into the soft flesh of his throat. She could rip him to pieces, she could hurt him, hurt him the way that Hunters wanted to hurt her. A trap, was this all a trap? “I don’t want your friend’s help-- I don’t, I don’t even want your help.” She sneered, tempted to rip the cotton gauze from her hands just to prove it to him. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I could. I could want to hurt you.” She said with another laugh, shaking her head. “So just, just put down the phone.”

The voice on the other end of the line began to rise into a higher register, tinny treble crackling through the rectangular mic at the bottom of the screen. “I’m completely fine. No one’s gonna hurt anyone here. Let me call you back.” Cutler spoke the words loudly and clearly, hoping the slight shaking his hand didn’t translate to his voice. Light flashed off the thin reflective blade of the scalpel. It was a tiny little thing, almost dwarfed in her white knuckle grip, but it could do serious damage. He knew that better than anyone.

“I’m putting it down.” The phone clattered to the cement floor, sending a nervous jolt through his body. Nice, Cutler. “I don’t think-” His tongue felt heavy against his sticky-dry lips, struggling to form the words he wanted to say. “I don’t think you’re a bad person. And I don’t think you really want to hurt me. If you did, you would have done it by now, right? You’ve had plenty of chances.”

Skylar watched as the man spoke, her eyes trained on him. The lights were bright and sharp around the two of them and it made the scalpel in her fingers glimmer like quicksilver. Liquid in her fingers, she could let it flash out, once, twice, a hundred times, she thought. She could let it slither from her grasp and embed itself into the man’s body, she could watch the blood flow, so slow, down down down the drain. It would be so easy, so quick. A sliver of silver, a knife, a life. The dull thudding of the phone against the floor brought her back to her senses and Skylar nodded. “Yup, it’s down.” She said before kicking out a foot, sending the phone skittering away.

“I could, I could. Everyone could. Everyone wants to hurt people, everything’s only ever wanted to hurt me. Why shouldn’t I hurt someone else? Why shouldn’t I be just like them?” Skylar asked, though the scalpel was already lowering in her hand. She didn’t want to. She didn’t really want to do that. Her arms felt weary, heavier than they’d felt in… well, she couldn’t remember. But the weight of the sharp blade in her fingers felt as though it was dragging her to the floor, pulling her down. “I never wanted to be like this.” She said gesturing to herself with the scalpel, hands waving wildly. “I thought I was normal. I thought everyone was normal. But it’s not and I’m not and I’m just some… thing. Some kind of monster.” Skylar said before letting out a watery laugh. Swiping at her face with her free hand, Skylar wondered when she’d started crying-- why was she even crying? There was nothing to be sad about, nothing to feel. “I-- I…” She stammered, shaking her head as she backed away towards the door she’d come from. Tossing the scalpel away, she looked at the man, mind caught between the urge to charge at him and to run far, far away from him. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” She said, shaking as she turned around and ran.

Cutler watched a thousand emotions pass over Skylar’s face in an instant. One well-placed slash with the scalpel in her hand and it could be over for him. The karmic balancing of the scales; a fitting end for him, maybe. But she wasn’t going to. He could see it even before her arm started to lower. She was at breaking point, tears overflowing their hitch-breath confines and words spilling out of her, stream-of-consciousness. “I know.” He said softly. And he did. He knew that she wouldn’t let him help. That she was leaving, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. “I know.”

For a moment, it appeared as if she had changed her mind and decided to tackle him anyway and he tensed, ready to parry or dodge whatever she threw at him, including herself. At the last second, she pivoted, running by him in close quarters. A quicker man might have blocked the door. A stronger man might have reached a hand out to stop her as she passed. Cutler was neither of these things. Instead, he just watched her go.

#p: wygwyw #tw drug use #tw addiction #tw: medical blood #tw memory loss #tw body horror #//as always if youd like a tw free recap just let me know!#//this was such a cool chatzy to write #p: cutler clarke

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the-accidentals · 5 years ago

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Chapter 1

Laura walked in through the door of her shoddy apartment, the lights flickering on as she slumped down on her stained sofa, she wanted to order takeaway but knew she didn't have the money, life was way to expensive and this week had been a pile of horse shit if any one had been, her car was in the garage after it broke down a couple days ago, the bill was so high she would need to not eat for a month. Before getting off shift today she had seen a family of five burn, only 2 getting out alive, a baby and the father. She tried to not let her job get to her but fighting fires was the easiest part, watching the families as they realise that not everyone made it is the worst, you can feel the guilt in the air. We are trained to move on, you can't take every death personally or it kills you from the inside but whenever i see a family torn apart so abruptly the worry stays on my heart, seeing happy families destroyed was definitely the worst part of her job but laura still loved the job and everyone struggles with it so she just tries to leave the worry at work,but today it followed her home, there was just something about today, the fire had started in the oldests room, probably faulty electrics, she was barely out of primary school, just starting to think she was a grown up, it had already killed the middle kid by the time anyone realised and the mother just breathed in to much smoke, it was come and go for a bit but in the end she didn't even make it to the hospital. A happy family reduced to two, a morning father and a 2 month old girl, how she survived I don't know. All that innocence and such young lives torn away so quickly.

Laura stood up shaking her head, it's not good to stay focused on the bad things, noodles and beer and an early night and she can sort everything else out in the morning.She has parents she can beg for money,they won't be happy but they wont let her starve,she just wishes she didn't have to call. For tonight she resigned herself to the sofa with a bottle of cheap beer and some veg noodles, strolling through the internet. Eventually the sun was long gone and the shame came creeping back, she was sitting here running from her responsibilities with beer, noodles and a blanket around her, just trying to hide away on the internet, she was a grown woman, an adult. She closed down reddit and opened her emails, this was an adult thing, she could clear her inbox. Ad,ad,ad,scam,ad,ad, important thing she should of replied too, she was trying to be grown up but that was slightly too grown up, ad, bank statement, don't want to look at that, oh nice easy one, the unit chief is trying to set up a quiz night, he needs to know when i'm free, i can do that. After a couple minutes of checking her calendar, which was embarrassingly empty she had formed an adult but chill response. There! She had been an adult, she had written an email and deleted a few more. She scanned over the rest hoping they could wait a few more days until a quiet moment at work, one caught her eye, an email from a trial company, she did a couple of studies a few years back to get some extra cash and extra cash was just what she needed, she looked into it, it was a medical study looking into a mental health drug, they needed people with diagnosed mental illness so she knew she would fit right in. Drug trials were not her thing but the pay was pretty good, two injections a week, £50 each, it lasted 12 months but you could leave whenever, just under £5,000 for the whole year, she probably wouldn't hang on that long but long enough that she could fix her beat up honda and still eat. Honestly how could she resist? The testing facility was a 15 minute walk away from the fire station as well. Fuck me if was perefect, no nagging from anyone about “being an adult” and “looking after your finances”. Laura finally went to bed that night, slightly tipsy, exhausted but slightly less stressed.

Laura had 2 days until she got paid and she had her first appointment for the trial today, it was a rolling study so there was no set start date. She had promised steve, the mechanic down the road, that he would get paid the bill as soon as she got paid so that he would carry on working with no money upfront, to be honest he totally owned lorna one, she had set him up with an ex of hers about a year back and she had never seen him happier. She walked up to a little privately owned clinic that she had never noticed before, it was smart but felt way to clinical, the lights were so bright it burnt and like all of these places the smell of cleaner was so strong you could taste it, she popped her phone into the pocket of her oversized jacket as she came to the front desk, the lady at the desk looked he up and down, I suppose she didn't really look like she belonged, it didn't look like a cheap sort of place.” hi i'm here for the trial, umm laura burmwell” laura muttered into the ground,she hated reception staff, they always seemed super judgy and this lady was no different, she tapped away at her screen for a few very awkward moments and sighed, pointing me to a section of chairs near the back. Pulling her earphones out she landed in a seat.

“Dont worry she wasn't very nice to me either” a voice chucked next to her, a small grinning woman sat there tapping on her phone, laura smiled back, she was gorgeous, long black hair down to her waist, out shining laura’s dirty blonde mess any day.

“ I’m glad she doesn't just hate me” Lorna joked, internally panicking. Why is such a cute woman actually talking to me? She suddenly felt amazingly underdressed, she was sat next to a stunning women who was clearly ready to go to work in a nice yellow dress and a jacket and she is there look like a gay hobo, hair up in yesterdays bun and a t shirt that has dinosaurs on it, at she is wearing smartish jeans. “I’m laura, are you here for the study?” she smiled.

“Preet, yeah, i'm hoping they can cure the fuckery going on in my head before the end of it” she chuckled but I could see the blush forming over her skin as she processed what she had said, Laura just snorted, tapping her leg on the linoleum floor, trying to think of something to say, her mind in overdrive.

“ nervous?” Preet questioned.

“i just haven't been in a drug trial for years, what if I grow four heads or something?” She joked, Preet actually burst out laughing, tears starting to form in her eyes, which got Laura laughing too, they just sat there trying to hide there laughter from the rest of the very serious looking members of the waiting room, finally after about 5 minutes they both calmed down enough to speak, laughter still glistening in their eyes.

“ but seriously these drugs will of been tested for years before it gets to these sorts of tests, its perfectly safe, they are just proving it and checking out side effects, im sure you wont grow any more heads.” At that moment Preets name was called over the speaker system, Secretly both of them were hoping they had been forgotten about so they could sit here and chat all day but neither of them said it.

“See you later Laura” Preet called as she picked up her stuff and started to follow the now waiting nurse.

Lorna went back to her music, trying to pull a stupid grin off her face.

1941- September 5th

I walked into surgery, on the bench was the patient, a young soldier, barley 19. He was burning up. Nurse Weber was standing there, trying to cool him down while setting up. He had a gun wound that was starting to get infected and the bullet had yet been removed. We set to work, removing infected tissue and finding bits of the shattered bullet but further we got the more futile it became, he kept losing blood and nothing we could do would keep his temperature down, he was pretty much dead in front of us. The nurse looked up, exhaustion in every wrinkle in her face, defeat in her eyes, im sure she had been on duty when he came on, over 10 hours earlier. With an air of defect I started sawing him up, giving him a dose of penicillin and covering the wound with gauze. I doubt he would make the night but we had tried. I removed my bloodied gloves and left. Hoping to be able to rest now. My eyes started over at the dying children and men who fill the halls. when will the war end, when will the suffering stop, have not enough died for the righteous cause? I started towards the boards, I was still on duty for another few days before I could head home. As i passed through the corridors i passed a officer asking about his son, every has someone fighting in this war to end all wars, he came to a halt in front of me desperately asking for his sons conduction, i had treated him when he first got brought in, he was going to make it but he no longer had a left leg, a bomb had hit near trench and had impaled his leg. As he quickly dismissed me, relief clear on his face, you could clearly see the shine on his Swastika pin. “Heil Hitler” I murmured as he marched away into the chaos

This is the first part of a longer story and my first time doing any serious writing, any advice welcome! I know it isn't perfect but I tried so I hope you enjoy it xx

#Story #Oc #Superpower #author #Writing #Part 1 #The accidentals

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wuzzybear · 5 years ago

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The Accidentals- A bad fucking week. part 1

A group of broke adults join a medical trial hoping for some easy cash but instead get a lot more than what they wanted. There is something bad at play and they need to work it out if they ever want to be normal, not that they were normal before.

Laura walked in through the door of her shoddy apartment, the lights flickering on as she slumped down on her stained sofa, she wanted to order takeaway but knew she didn't have the money, life was way to expensive and this week had been a pile of horse shit if any one had been, her car was in the garage after it broke down a couple days ago, the bill was so high she would need to not eat for a month. Before getting off shift today she had seen a family of five burn, only 2 getting out alive, a baby and the father. She tried to not let her job get to her but fighting fires was the easiest part, watching the families as they realise that not everyone made it is the worst, you can feel the guilt in the air. We are trained to move on, you can't take every death personally or it kills you from the inside but whenever i see a family torn apart so abruptly the worry stays on my heart, seeing happy families destroyed was definitely the worst part of her job but laura still loved the job and everyone struggles with it so she just tries to leave the worry at work,but today it followed her home, there was just something about today, the fire had started in the oldest’s room, probably faulty electrics, she was barely out of primary school, just starting to think she was a grown up, it had already killed the middle kid by the time anyone realised and the mother just breathed in to much smoke, it was come and go for a bit but in the end she didn't even make it to the hospital. A happy family reduced to two, a morning father and a 2 month old girl, how she survived I don't know. All that innocence and such young lives torn away so quickly.

Laura stood up shaking her head, it's not good to stay focused on the bad things, noodles and beer and an early night and she can sort everything else out in the morning.She has parents she can beg for money,they won't be happy but they wont let her starve,she just wishes she didn't have to call. For tonight she resigned herself to the sofa with a bottle of cheap beer and some veg noodles, strolling through the internet. Eventually the sun was long gone and the shame came creeping back, she was sitting here running from her responsibilities with beer, noodles and a blanket around her, just trying to hide away on the internet, she was a grown woman, an adult. She closed down Reddit and opened her emails, this was an adult thing, she could clear her inbox. Ad,ad,ad,scam,ad,ad, important thing she should of replied too, she was trying to be grown up but that was slightly too grown up, ad, bank statement, don't want to look at that, oh nice easy one, the unit chief is trying to set up a quiz night, he needs to know when i'm free, i can do that. After a couple minutes of checking her calendar, which was embarrassingly empty she had formed an adult but chill response. There! She had been an adult, she had written an email and deleted a few more. She scanned over the rest hoping they could wait a few more days until a quiet moment at work, one caught her eye, an email from a trial company, she did a couple of studies a few years back to get some extra cash and extra cash was just what she needed, she looked into it, it was a medical study looking into a mental health drug, they needed people with diagnosed mental illness so she knew she would fit right in. Drug trials were not her thing but the pay was pretty good, two injections a week, £50 each, it lasted 12 months but you could leave whenever, just under £5,000 for the whole year, she probably wouldn't hang on that long but long enough that she could fix her beat up Honda and still eat. Honestly how could she resist? The testing facility was a 15 minute walk away from the fire station as well. Fuck me if was perfect, no nagging from anyone about “being an adult” and “looking after your finances”. Laura finally went to bed that night, slightly tipsy, exhausted but slightly less stressed.

Laura had 2 days until she got paid and she had her first appointment for the trial today, it was a rolling study so there was no set start date. She had promised Steve, the mechanic down the road, that he would get paid the bill as soon as she got paid so that he would carry on working with no money upfront, to be honest he totally owned Laura one, she had set him up with an ex of hers about a year back and she had never seen him happier. She walked up to a little privately owned clinic that she had never noticed before, it was smart but felt way to clinical, the lights were so bright it burnt and like all of these places the smell of cleaner was so strong you could taste it, she popped her phone into the pocket of her oversized jacket as she came to the front desk, the lady at the desk looked he up and down, I suppose she didn't really look like she belonged, it didn't look like a cheap sort of place.” hi i'm here for the trial, umm.. Laura Burmwell” Laura muttered into the ground,she hated reception staff, they always seemed super judgy and this lady was no different, she tapped away at her screen for a few very awkward moments and sighed, pointing me to a section of chairs near the back. Pulling her earphones out she landed in a seat.

“Don’t worry she wasn't very nice to me either” a voice chucked next to her, a small grinning woman sat there tapping on her phone, Laura smiled back, she was gorgeous, long black hair down to her waist, out shining Laura's dirty blonde mess any day.

“I’m glad she doesn't just hate me” Lorna joked, internally panicking. Why is such a cute woman actually talking to me? She suddenly felt amazingly under dressed, she was sat next to a stunning women who was clearly ready to go to work in a nice yellow dress and a jacket and she is there look like a gay hobo, hair up in yesterdays bun and a t shirt that has dinosaurs on it, at she is wearing smartish jeans. “I’m Laura, are you here for the study?” she smiled.

“Nervous?” Preet questioned.

“ but seriously these drugs will of been tested for years before it gets to these sorts of tests, its perfectly safe, they are just proving it and checking out side effects, I’m sure you wont grow any more heads.” At that moment Preet’s name was called over the speaker system, Secretly both of them were hoping they had been forgotten about so they could sit here and chat all day but neither of them said it.

“See you later Laura” Preet called as she picked up her stuff and started to follow the now waiting nurse.

Lorna went back to her music, trying to pull a stupid grin off her face.

1941- September 5th

I walked into surgery, on the bench was the patient, a young soldier, barley 19. He was burning up. Nurse Weber was standing there, trying to cool him down while setting up. He had a gun wound that was starting to get infected and the bullet had yet been removed. We set to work, removing infected tissue and finding bits of the shattered bullet but further we got the more futile it became, he kept losing blood and nothing we could do would keep his temperature down, he was pretty much dead in front of us. The nurse looked up, exhaustion in every wrinkle in her face, defeat in her eyes, I’m sure she had been on duty when he came on, over 10 hours earlier. With an air of defect I started sawing him up, giving him a dose of penicillin and covering the wound with gauze. I doubt he would make the night but we had tried. I removed my bloodied gloves and left. Hoping to be able to rest now. My eyes started over at the dying children and men who fill the halls. when will the war end, when will the suffering stop, have not enough died for the righteous cause? I started towards the boards, I was still on duty for another few days before I could head home. As i passed through the corridors i passed a officer asking about his son, every has someone fighting in this war to end all wars, he came to a halt in front of me desperately asking for his sons condition, i had treated him when he first got brought in, he was going to make it but he no longer had a left leg, a bomb had hit near trench and had impaled his leg. As he quickly dismissed me, relief clear on his face, you could clearly see the shine on his Swastika pin. “Heil Hitler” I murmured as he marched away into the chaos.

This is my first attempt writing, please tell me how to improve! this is the first part of a longer story.

#original writing #story #germany #nazi #lgbt #powers #mental health #writing #Lesbian

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fredtorres-blog1 · 8 years ago

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Thin Mints and Matters of the Heart: Bethany & Fred - Chatzy

Fred cut the engine before she got all the way down the drive. The brick building loomed up as imposing as it had been when she was child and somehow it seemed like the only sound in the lush green grounds was Lilah’s – well, Fred had always thought of Lilah’s engine as a purr but right now it sounded like a roar. “Sorry, girl,” Fred said and patted Lilah’s sleek red flank. She walked the rest of the way in, carrying the bag of Luis’ knitted hats and scarves slung over her shoulder.

A young nun greeted Fred in the front reception and assured her that Sister Bethany would be with her in a moment. Fred nodded her thanks. She slouched against the wall and resumed mentally rehearsing the coming conversation as she’d been doing ever since rolling out of bed and into the shower that morning.

Sister Bethany had been friends with Luis for forever, hadn’t she? Fred honestly couldn’t remember a time when Sister Bethany hadn’t been around – always on the peripheral of her vision, as much an architectural landmark of Fred’s childhood as St. Catherine’s itself and as serene and beautiful a constant as St. Catherine’s gardens. All kinds of charity work and outreach Luis and the Sister had done together. Sanctuary stuff too, the conventional kind only though. Not the supernatural, !Dios! no, Sister Bethany wasn’t part of that world. But even so, she was a part of Luis’ world – if he’d talked to anybody about whatever that letter from the hospital meant, it might be her. Yeah? Yeah, Fred told herself, yeah. I just need to subtly interrogate a nun. That’s all. At least there’ll be chocolate.

Bethany took an inappropriate amount of delight in the way all the Sisters looked up in the library as the motorcycle roared up the path. There was a value to contemplation, absolutely, but nothing quite made you love it as much as a very loud noise. And it wasn't a terrible noise, as noises go. Like an excited big cat of some kind. A tiger maybe? Something that could chuff but chose not to. She grabbed a box of thin mints off her desk and hurried to the front office, catching a glimpse of Luis' little girl before she could see her. It was strange, how old children made one feel, even when they weren't your own. The same faces, just grown. Same voices, just softer. Same eyes, just sadder. Little Fred had always been a thinker but she looked especially pensive now. Same set jaw. Same adorable nose turned down in thought. Bethany remembered when all it would take to fix that frown was a book and a corner with sun. But things had changed, like they did. An acceptance to a great school, a road trip instead. Bethany knew a thing or two about that, but she also knew that Luis and his little girl weren't ones to address such problems head on. She respected it and understood. Which was why it felt a little strange to have Winnifred appear like this. Luis was always helpful with the Good Work. The hats weren't needed quite yet. Must have been the cookies. She stepped forward, holding out an open box. "Fred! Hello!" She held back on hugging her even though she wanted too. She really was grown. "You can just put the bag here and Sister Marie Therese will get everything sorted while we head back. Did you want a receipt for taxes?"

Sister Bethany’s bright “Hello!” cut through Fred’s thoughts and produced some kind of ridiculous muscle memory of childhood -- she almost raised her arms for a hug and only barely managed to awkwardly jam her hands in her pockets instead. Oh, this is going super well, already, she chided herself, you’re not a kid anymore and some chica in a black leather jacket embracing Sister Bethany woulda probably been the scandal of the year at Saint Catherine’s.

“Uh, yeah, hi Sister,” Fred said, and set the bag down. She saw the proffered open box and almost snatched at a cookie just to have something else to do with her hands. Thin mints. Her favourites. Fred nodded and said, slightly muffled by cookies, “Thanks, a reciept’d be great.” She fell into step behind Sister Bethany and followed her, trying not to let her boots clomp too loudly down the hall.

Yes, Fred was almost 30 and had rode up on a motorcycle but the word that kept popping into Bethany's head was cute. Fred still didn't quite know where her edges were, and that was alright. A little physical awkwardness was needed to offset the brilliant brain of hers. She pushed the box at Fred again. "Winnifred. One for the road. Hallway. You know." She smiled as she led her down the hallway. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "If anyone asks what you're doing here, say you're thinking of becoming a postulant. That way I can take you to the best places." They walked for a bit and she marched Fred past a massive stained glass window. "So, how are you, dear?"

Fred supressed a giggle at Sister Bethany’s postulant suggestion. Had Sister Bethany always had such a spark of mischief to her sense of humour? Well, it’d been a while and maybe, Fred thought, when you were a kid you were too busy with your nose in a book and your head in the sky to notice. Funny how even the human landmarks of childhood were changed – familiar yet strange – when you returned to them.

“I’m okay,” Fred said. It wasn’t, technically, a lie. She was okay. “Been on the road a lot with the Red Nights, working as a courier, seeing the world. It’s been good.” All of that was perfectly true too. No need to mention what she was couriering or what strange corners of the world she’d been seeing. “Not, I guess, what you’d have expected of me,” Fred admitted, keeping her voice level and her face impassive, “but I suppose folks didn’t expect you to become a nun.” Might as well just preempt that inevitable line of questioning, and a good offense was always the best defense. Fred’s shoulders bunched tightly and she forced them down and tried to make her voice brighter and politer, “And how are you, Sister? You and Luis still doing all the Good Works ‘round this town, yeah?”

Bethany let the subject of the past drop. She hadn't meant to poke that particular bear and wouldn't want anyone poking hers. In any case, it sounded like something Joanna would do, and she admired anyone who had Joanna's sense of daring. "Oh, on the contrary, what an adventure! Have you considered writing about it?" She caught herself. "Apologies, I don't mean to push." She walked a few more paces, deciding whether to address the nun remark at all. Trying not to think of every time someone told her she'd be a good mother, every time she pictured a ring on Fabian's finger. It took a moment, but she got there. "Oh I've always been a bit nun-ish." She gave Fred a little smile. "I wore a lot of black in high school." She was far too proud of her joke, but if she could get a smile out of Fred it was worth it. "I'm very well. Always something new, surprisingly. But the usual service work. Luis' mechanics classes with the girls always go so well. I have one or two that remind us of you."

Fred didn’t answer the writing question. The thought…startled and interested her for a moment. But before she could think how to respond, the silence grew and something tight and hurt and guarded in Sister Bethany’s walk ignited a slow burn of shame as she realized she’d surely hit Sister Bethany in the most vulnerable place she could. ¡Chinga!, she swore at herself, why do I have to have such unerring aim even when I don’t mean to?

And then, that kind, forgiving smile and the little joke and even if Fred’s throat still felt thick, she did have to laugh at the image of Sister Bethany, the teenage goth. Something clever and funny to cover the pain – how had Fred never realized how strangely alike Luis and Sister Bethany were? She realized quite suddenly that she didn’t have a hope of trying to sneak any information out of Sister Bethany. She’d see through any lie or attempt at subtlety from someone half as clumsy as Fred.

“Sister,” Fred said, stopping abruptly, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been exactly honest about why I came to visit. I s’pose you already figured that. Thing is, I’m worried about my dad and I thought if he’d have told anyone about whatever’s going on, it’d be you.”

Bethany was taken aback at Fred's forwardness but it was more admiration than annoyance. "Oh. Well." Bethany thought for a moment. She wasn't Fabian. She could say whatever she wanted. And Luis... Luis would understand. He'd be mad at first but he'd understand. She knew how it felt to be on the other side of a stubborn but charming old man. Perhaps a gentle check. Just a gentle one. "What makes you worried, Fred?"

Fred unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself and consciously forced herself to look up into the older woman’s questioning face. Meeting Sister Bethany’s gaze, Fred swallowed and then said – in a rush, all at once, trying to not feel that saying it made it real – “I think he’s ill. His hands… He hides it, but I’ve seen them shaking. And, I shouldn’t have done it, I know, but I looked through his mail and I found an empty envelope from TriStar Medical.” Fred bit her lip, let herself look down at her scuffed boots and muttered, “He’s so stubborn, he just says he’s ‘fine’ when I tried to ask. I’ve never ever suspected Luis of lying to me before this, but… .” She let the sentence trail off miserably.

Bethany “Oh Winnifred.” Bethany said, throwing her arms around her. “I’m so sorry.” She patted Fred’s back gently, waiting for the wash of her own past to ebb-- Raf barely moving, his vacant eyes watching but never seeing. “Sorry. Sorry.” Bethany said, pulling herself back together and releasing her. “I just know that can be very hard to talk about. It’s wonderful that you’re trying to engage with him about it, and it’s quite unkind of him to hold back. And unkind of me to push so.” She sat down on a bench to give Fred more room “I’m sure he’s alright. He’d tell you if there was any a risk of losing him. He’s a good one that way.”

Fred stiffened in surprise but, as Sister Bethany’s arms wrapped around her, Fred almost collapsed into the warmth and comfort. “S’okay,” Fred said in response to Bethany’s apology, “I mean, thank you.” She swallowed hard and continued, “and you weren’t being unkind, just careful, and I respect that.”

“I guess you’re right. I think he would tell me if…” Fred didn't finish the sentence. “But other than Parkinson’s or cancer or something terrifying like that, I just don’t know what it could be.” She sat down next to Sister Bethany and admitted “I’ve been too scared to google, you know? And When I add it up, it sounds like I’m being paranoid or something. His hands shake, mostly when he’s tired I think. He’s drinking more than he used to, and it seems like he’s quit coffee?! Which sounds like nothing but, you know him, he’s always drinking that dark sludge of terrible coffee he makes and now, suddenly, he’s not. And somehow, I got such a strong feeling this time, when I came home, that he needed me to stay.” She shrugged tightly and asked, “Am I just imagining things? Have you noticed his hands shaking?”

Bethany exhaled, long and slow. There were questions and answers. There was the issue of trust. Luis was a longtime ally. A friend who treated her like a person rather than some virginal Catholic penguin to be feared or condescended to. They always made a funny pair, her in her habit and him in his leather jacket. “We’re the first line of a joke.” he'd say with an easy smile, making her forget the looks that surrounded them. Fred was his. His to raise and love and lie to, if he so chose. But Bethany couldn't shake that look in Fred’s eyes, a ghostly reflection of her own. “Tata,” she'd say, calling into the abyss. “Are you alright?” And he’d only look far away. I’m alright, Perełko. And into the darkness he’d go again... “Oh, never Google.” Bethany said. “You know I’m one for research but one has to be able to assess their sources and with medical things, even sites with MD in their name can be questionable at best.” She bit her lip a little. The drinking was a new symptom. If it was a symptom. Luis never drank in front of Bethany. Not even a beer on a sweltering summer day. “His hands do shake now, I agree. It worries me, but again, he knows he needs to be around for many reasons including you.” She smiled gently. “I trust your instincts that he needs you to stay but he’s your father, dear. He’s always going to need you.” Bethany swallowed, taking the leap. “How much is he drinking?”

Fred let her breath out in a whoosh that surprised even herself. It was strange to realize that it was actually a relief to have her fears confirmed, just to know that she wasn’t imagining it. But she shook her head at Bethany’s question. “No. Not very much I don’t think. I think...” She paused, wrestling with how to explain it. He was drinking more, but it wasn’t that he was drinking a lot. “He’s never drunk much. Just socially, occasionally, with the Nights, or up at the Back Forty, or when we visit his family up in Texas. When I had to stop drinking for a little while, ‘cause of a medication I was on, he got Angie to start mixing non-alcoholic drinks and switched to those with me and I don’t think he was just being kind when he said he liked them better anyways. But now he’s got this bottle of gin in a cupboard with a shot glass. But it’s not disappearing at an alarming rate or anything. Seems like he’s taking a shot in the evenings, mostly, and maybe once or twice when he’s been extra stressed with a rushed repair.” Fred chewed on her lip for a second and frowned. “I...feel slightly funny talking about drugs with you, Sister, but the thing it’s reminding me of is when I was in college, one of my dorm-mates, she had some kind of pain disorder. Juvenile arthritis or something. And she used marijuana for it. But she didn’t use it like the other kids at college, you understand? Not to get high or for fun. Her pain levels got worse over the course of the day, so she’d mostly smoke some in the evenings, or sometimes when she had an exam or an important event or something like that. And, I dunno, it almost seems like Luis is drinking like that. Self-medicating?”

Bethany waved her hand a bit. “We aren’t Scientologists, dear. The Church’s position on substances is a complicated one, no matter what JP2 said.” She winked one of those ‘I’m not like other teachers. I’m a cool teacher.’ winks. Maybe it was ironic. Maybe not. “We’re anti-opiate of the masses for sure, but dependency is the real danger here. It doesn’t sound like your friend couldn’t get by without it, just that she was using it for pain management. Generally, God would like you to be happy and in control of yourself, even if that takes some help. But that’s neither here nor there. Best to ask a priest. They’re allowed to actually rule on these things.” She resisted the urge to recommend someone. Fabian was an excellent priest. She’d always known he would be. Plus she was 95% sure he’d agree with her. “Self-medicating is a dangerous word but I’d love to know what his doctors said. There are certain movement disorders that are eased by alcohol. Usually they go for compounds that aren’t quite like alcoholic beverages but gin is quite delicious.” She swallowed. “I tried it strictly in graduate school, for the record.”

Fred couldn’t help laughing at Bethany’s wink, despite still suffocating something that felt almost like a sob in the back of her throat. It was strange but good to sit here with this woman who had known her since she was a baby and talk with her, adult to adult. “Thank you, Sister,” Fred said. “I hadn’t meant to blurt all that out, I’d meant to be subtle about it,” she snorted softly at herself and continued, “but it was kind of you to listen like that and I’m grateful for your perspective and knowledge.” She examined her fingernails and admitted, “And you’re right. I need to know what his doctor’s have said. I need to sit down and talk with him, like I’ve talked with you. Quit dancing around it. I’ve got a job – I’m on my way to pick up a package to deliver, after this – but when I get back, I’ll do it.” She let her breath out in a small sigh. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be treating you like my therapist or something and I shouldn’t add to your worries...” As she said it, she belatedly realized that that was what she was seeing on Sister Bethany’s face – worry lines. Those surely hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen her? Of course, she’s older, that’s all. But – before she could stop herself, Fred added, “which I hope aren’t many...” She let it trail off. It could be a question if Sister Bethany wanted to answer it, or it could be easily brushed aside if she wanted to do that.

“Oh, subtle can be overrated.” Bethany said “Especially in matters as important as this.” Matters of the heart. she thought, crushing the hypocrisy down. “I’ve never been able to get what I need by doing anything other than asking for it. Forcefully, but nicely.” Another one of those little smiles. Cheeky. Well, cheeky for a nun. “Judging by the sound of that beautiful vehicle you rode in on, nicely may not be… what do the girls call it… your brand? But in any case, I’ve found the most direct choice is often the most effective one, regardless of how that must be expressed.” She meant it too. She knew Fred’s path hadn’t been easy for many, many reasons and was relieved that she felt safe enough to talk about these things at all. “It was my honor, Fred.” The light hit Bethany’s cheek just so, making her feel old and young all at once. Fred was grown and Bethany had not. Or maybe she just felt she hadn’t. Jo had grown, yes. But Bethany had always felt the same. Until he came. And then she felt it. The gap, the years, the weight of wanting grown rotten with time. “No worries so much as cares. Things change, you know? And sometimes they fold back in on themselves like a snake eating its tail.” Or a heart eating a brain. She smiled again, brave face. “I don’t have to tell you how it feels to be back in an environment you hadn’t planned on. Old friends reminding you of who you were before you knew what that was.”

Fred felt an ache in the back of her throat that said yes, I understand, and most of all she understood that what Bethany was really saying was largely in the careful spaces, the words not said. And Fred wanted so badly to have a response as kind and eloquent and right. But she didn’t. Nicely wasn’t her brand. Luis would have the right words, the right gentleness for this, but she didn’t. Bethany’s dark eyes were warm and sad and crinkled up around the corners with that graceful smile. And Fred just said, huskily, “Yeah.” She started to turn away, and then forced herself back, and rushed out clumsily, “If you ever want to talk about, you know, whatever, I... I’m not a good listener and I never know the right things to say, but... I’d be there, or whatever.” Quickly, before there could be any awkward pause, Fred pushed a cheque into Sister Bethany’s hands. “That’s for toiletries or whatever else the folks on the street need most right now, I figured you and they’d know better than me and money’d be more useful than anything else.” Fred shoved her hands in her pockets and said softly, towards the floor, “Thanks for the cookies and the kindness, Sister.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” Bethany had worked with enough teenagers to know when someone was uncomfortable. Emotions were tricky things in any context, and Fred had never been one to share easily. She took the check delicately, trying to give Fred as much room as she could. “That’s profoundly thoughtful. I’ll have them mail you a receipt to the garage? Tax deductions and all that?” She caught herself. Did Fred even file? Did Luis? It was none of her business. She didn’t even remember how it worked any more. “I won’t always have cookies but I’m here if you need or want anything.” She whispered conspiratorially -- “Or if you just want to put the fear of God into us with your Harley” Bethany gently guided Fred back towards the entrance to the convent, giving her a potential exit if she wanted it.

Fred gratefully moved with Bethany towards the convent entrance. It had been good and she was glad – gladder than she would have ever guessed she’d be – to have talked, really talked, like this with Sister Bethany, but she needed the wind in her face and Lilah’s purr in her ears and the open space of highway to think in. The beautiful old walls around her had started to suffocate and stifle. She nodded, “Yeah, yeah, mail us a receipt. Luis’ hates paperwork but he’s good about keeping all his receipts and I do his taxes for him every year.” She didn’t say, it’s important to have your records spotless when you run...things; when you’re something... other than entirely human; when you have so very many reasons to not want to draw attention to yourself and your brethren. As they reached the front door, Fred’s brain conducted a slightly panicked debate on the appropriateness of a hug vs. a handshake and was still doing so as her body took over and, to her brain’s profound horror, lightly punched Sister Bethany in the shoulder as she said goodbye. ¡Chinga!, she swore silently and beat a hasty retreat across the green lawns and towards Lilah.

#chatzy #c: sister bethany

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craft-rose · 8 years ago

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anomaly (pt. 4)

18+

Title: anomaly

Pairing: Reader + Jungkook

Rated: M (for coarse language, graphic violence and explicitly sexual themes)

Type: Covenant!AU

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

The second he slid his key into the lock, the gentle click of the mechanism reverberating between two of you and the front door of his massive house, you rocked back on the heels of your shoes, a tense knot in your gut.

Jungkook held the door open, glancing back at you as he entered. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, obvious to the rapid beats of your heart as he looked to you, waiting.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, quickly parting your lips to speak. They were flaky and dry, the moisture having escaped your body earlier, when you were sprawled on the sidewalk in a fit of shock and tears.

“The other members …” You began, the colour draining from your cheeks. “They won’t mind that you’ve brought me here, will they?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, almost amused at your concern. “What, have you never snuck into a boy’s house before?”

Your stomach flipped. “Uh, no. Is that a thing people do past the age of seventeen?”

“When you’re an idol and you live in a house with six other guys, one of whom who’s always on your case, yes,” Jungkook answered, holding his hand out to you. “It’s most definitely ‘a thing’.”

You glanced down at his hand, surprised to find that it was in a less than perfect state. His fingers were long and slender, and his nails were in nice shape, not too long, but he had a few cuts along his knuckles, as if he’d been in a fight of some sort. Suddenly remembering what he had told you about duking it out with Cameron in the café, you felt your stomach drop.

He’s hurt.

Thoughts in disarray, you accepted the hand he had offered to you, startled by how cold he felt as he helped you inside.

“You’re freezing …” You whispered to him, without thinking.

He clapped his other hand over your mouth, shooting a look to either side of the foyer as if he were a guard dog, trained to be on high alert. Without a word, he took his hand away, using his left index finger to motion for you to be quiet.

You obeyed, wheeling a look around the entryway of his house as he checked around the corner to make sure the coast was clear.

There were all sorts of shoes and coats and hats and umbrellas piled around in various corners. It was plainly obvious that you had entered the home of seven young men. Your apartment wasn’t exactly the tidiest place on earth, but it may as well have been a medical office compared to the BTS house. In all fairness they were probably too busy to clean. Even jogging their in the middle of night, there were BTS advertisements plastered everywhere in the city.

Only then did you come to terms with where you were and who lived there.

Jungkook came tiptoeing back just in time, nodding his head to the hallway, motioning for you to follow. You quickly slipped off your shoes, holding them in one hand before tiptoeing behind the young idol. He was a couple of years younger than you, and he certainly looked and acted like it, but he was also quite tall. You raced to keep up with his long strides, heart clenching fiercely as you heard the low rhythm of music echoing out from one of the bedrooms around the corner.

It was only as Jungkook halted you with one arm, that you glanced down, realizing you were still wearing his jacket. That’s why he’s so cold. Cheeks prickling with embarrassment, you forcefully shifted your attention back up, looking to Jungkook as he waved you forward a step, to where he was standing.

Suddenly attuned to the muffled voices, footsteps and rumbling melodies which poured in from nearly every direction of the house, you felt a twitch of nervousness in your gut, but you stepped forward nonetheless.

Your nostrils were quickly filled with the fresh scent of his cologne, and you instinctively closed your eyes, throat constricting just a bit as he leaned down to your right ear, his breath warm and minty.

“Listen, OP, Seokjin is in the kitchen right now, making something to eat. Any second now, he’s going to come out and see us,” he whispered, lifting his head to make sure everyone was exactly where he thought they were and then leaning towards you again soon after. “I’m going to create a diversion before that can happen, and when I do, I want you to run as fast as you can to the door at the end of this hallway and hide in that room. No one will look in there. We have an early schedule in the morning. I’ll sneak you out before they wake up. But you have to move fast … okay?”

You gave him your undivided attention, nodding despite the anxious twitches in your stomach.

Before he was able to reiterate the importance that everything went to plan, the weighted rhythm of footsteps against hardwood caught his attention. There was light trailing into the hallway from the kitchen, and the second it was flicked off, Jungkook left your side, dashing around the corner as you dashed forward.

Within that same moment, you found the door at the end of the hallway, and you slipped through it, soundlessly, the distant hum of conversation filling your ears as Jungkook distracted the eldest member of the group. For a brief moment you listened, immersed in total darkness with your ear pressed to the door.

As the voices drowned out, you leaned away from the door, quickly locating the light switch in the room. With one flick, your surroundings were revealed to you in the pale white glow of the bulb.

The walls were plain white, and the furniture, which consisted of a queen-size bed, a desk and a chair, was made of wood and coloured in a light, oak stain. You figured he had directed you into the guest bedroom. Granted, it wasn’t the most secretive of places but it appeared to be relatively comfortable.

With one look at the bed, the pale blue covers of which appeared soft, warm and freshly washed, you felt the fatigue wear down on you all at once.

You had gone from working on a school assignment, to clubbing, to nearly getting yourself killed in your aunt’s café, to this. Somehow, sneaking into the BTS house had been the least concerning thing you had done that night.

Suddenly exhausted, you nearly missed the click of the door as Jungkook ducked inside.

“Hey … sorry for taking so long,” he said to you quietly, causing you to jump out of your skin in shock as you spun around.

Heart beating fast, you just about forgot where you were. “I-it’s okay,” You uttered, turning away to hide the embarrassed flush of your cheeks. “So, is this where I’m going to stay tonight?”

Ignoring your little outburst, Jungkook nodded. “This used to be our manager’s room, but he’s on paternity leave so no one really uses this space anymore. Sometimes the older members bring their dates here but we’re promoting right now. No time for ... stuff.”

You followed along, glancing to the door as the sound of footsteps echoed in from the hallway. “You’re absolutely sure no one will think to look in here?”

Jungkook nodded. “Positive.” Shifting a look down at your attire, the light bulb in his head had abruptly turned on. “Oh, right. You need clothes to sleep in. I’ll be right b —”

“Wait,” You interjected perhaps a little too loudly. He released the doorknob, looking to you with question marks in his dark brown eyes. Briefly losing your train of thought, you spared a second to think. “I … I know you said I was in danger, and that I probably shouldn’t go home tonight because of that, and I believe you, but … surely I should warn my roommate. What if Cameron goes to the apartment looking for me? What if he goes to my aunt’s place? Sh-she has a newborn baby. If anyone is harmed because of me, I-I —”

“Breathe,” Jungkook instructed, swiftly. “It’s important that you keep calm.”

The rapid beats of your heart only grew faster, harder. “But — but —”

“You can’t overwhelm yourself or you’re only going to faint again … or worse,” he furthered, as if referring to what happened back at the café, the way you slammed Cameron down to the floor using strength you didn’t know you had.

Plagued by the mental image of him motionless, a pool of crimson under his head, you felt your stomach lurch and your forehead begin to drip sweat.

“What’s happening to me?” You asked, glancing ahead at Jungkook.

Hovering less than a foot away from you, he extended both his hands, palm up, as if inviting you to place yours on top.

On instinct you accepted his hands, surprised to find them warm now, almost comforting.

Slowly, he intertwined your fingers with his, and he breathed in, releasing every intake with you, gradually calming you. Your eyelids soon fell shut, and you suddenly felt as if you were sleeping … dreaming.

There was a forest — trees as high as the clouds, grass as green as you had ever seen, and a small cabin. For whatever reason, you felt as if you had been there before but you knew that not to be the case. When you went camping as a kid, you had only ever slept in tents. Never a cabin. You knew you were only imagining it, conceiving it with your mind, but it felt so real, as though you could smell the freshness in the air if you breathed in hard enough, as though you could physically reach out and touch the trees, the grass, and the tiny brass doorknob leading into the cabin.

The second you thought to try, you felt your stomach clench and your heart begin to pound, fast and hard, your body frozen in shock as the cabin burst into bright, violent flames. Shaking from the inside out, you squeezed your fists, and you were startled as Jungkook squeezed back.

Suddenly, as if waking up from the depths of a nightmare, your eyes shot open and you sucked in a lungful of air, Jungkook standing right there in front of you, looking at you as though he knew exactly what you had just seen … as though he had seen the same thing in the same way, perhaps at the same exact time.

On instinct you tore your hands, backing away from him. “What the hell did you do to me?” You demanded, quietly as to not be heard by anyone but him, your eyes the size of slits, pooling with a blend of fear and uncertainty.

To your surprise, Jungkook kept his distance, acutely aware of how delicate of a situation the two of you had landed yourselves in.

“It wasn’t just me,” he explained, looking to you calmly but firmly. “It was you, too.”

“What are you talking about?” You blurted, raising your voice a little higher. “A-all of this weird stuff has been happening and it all started when I saw you on the train the other night. What are you?” You felt your chest contract at Jungkook stepped forward, probably to get you to be quiet. Before he could say or do anything, you backed up again, peeling your lips apart to continue. “What the fuck do you WANT? Better yet, why have you been following m —” Bumping into the bed, your body froze, this time for real, and your eyes flew wide open as Jungkook raced forward, clapping his hand over your mouth, again.

“Shut up,” he interjected, clearly afraid of getting caught by the other members. With one glance at the door to make sure the coast was clear, he shifted his gaze back to you, the fear in his eyes only partially melting away. “Just shut up for a second and listen.”

You were in no position to argue, nor to do anything other than stand there, his hand clasped over your mouth, hoping he wasn’t going to flip a switch on you like Cameron.

Sensing your trepidation, Jungkook hesitantly released you, but he was still very close, his every breath tickling your little baby hairs.

“That cabin you saw,” he began. “It exists in the real world. I’ll take you there to prove it.”

You felt your chest rise and fall inside your clothes as you tried to inhale and exhale, calming the tense, anxious twitch in your gut. “How do you know what I saw?”

There was an empty, the distant winds outside filling the silence before he tentatively spoke.

“I know because I’ve seen it, too. As have the other members,” the young idol explained, sparing a moment afterward, as if waiting for you to freak out again. When you didn’t, he carried on. “It-it was where our parents used to meet. It was where they used to practice.”

“Practice …” You whispered back, distantly, question marks in your eyes. “Practice what?”

Jungkook chewed his bottom lip, contemplating how to say the rest, as if he, himself had trouble believing it sometimes. “You know how you slammed Cameron down to the floor with strength you didn’t know you had?” he asked, earning a single nod from you. “That’s the sort of thing our parents used to practice in that cabin. Strength, speed, agility, everything there is that makes us who we are. Granted, you’re kind of a late bloomer, but I can probably teach you the basics if we started s —”

“My parents are dead.”

The words slipped through your lips so quickly, you had to consciously remind yourself they had actually come out, they weren’t just a thought.

“Whoever — whatever — you think I am, you have the wrong person,” You uttered to him. “My parents have been dead for almost my entire life. They’ve never been to that cabin, and what happened to Cameron was an accident. In fact I-I should have called the police on the spot. I-I could have saved him if I had just called the am —”

“Y/N, please, just listen to me. I know this all sounds crazy, but I’m telling the truth. You’re bound by the covenant, just like me, and it sucks, but if you keep letting your powers fly off unhinged, you’re going to hurt y—”

“The ‘covenant’? What the fuck are you talking about? What are you SAYING?”

“It’ll all make sense once I take you to the cott —”

“No, no, you need to STOP this right now! You’re not taking me ANYWHERE!” You shouted, having had enough of the crazy talk, shoving past him as you raced to the door.

Without a word, Jungkook chased after you, grabbing you by the wrists and spinning you around just as your fingertips grazed the doorknob. The back of your head thumped against the door and for a brief moment you felt dizzy, shaken and out of breath. You slowly came to, Jungkook’s tall outline filling your senses as he hovered a few inches away from you.

“If you leave now, you’re only going to get yourself killed,” he voiced to you plainly, clearly, as if he were speaking the concrete truth. “I’ve already chased after you once. I won’t do it again. Walk through that door and your fate will be in your hands and yours alone.”

You could see that he was serious, that he wasn’t just fucking with you, that for some reason he truly believed your life was in danger.

And yet, the second he released you, the cool air of separation ghosting over your naked wrists, you did exactly as he instructed you not to and you walked through that door, crossing paths with no one as you quietly ducked out the house with his jacket still on.

Yoongi slid a finger between the blinds, watching as the girl from the café jogged down the long, empty driveway, across the street and out of sight. Deep down he knew Jungkook had been onto something the other night, when he had called saying he saw a strange girl on the train. As much as Yoongi would have liked to confirm the suspicions, he knew he couldn’t. He knew Jungkook was better off not knowing, hopefully forgetting this girl and what she represented.

Unfortunately, they were past that point now. He had followed Jungkook out of the house, and he had seen everything he needed to see in order to know … she was one of them.

The eighth.

The missing piece to the puzzle.

The one that should have fit, but didn’t.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenarios #bts #bts scenarios #bangtan scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #anomaly #series

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erraticfairy · 6 years ago

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Podcast: Family on the Run: A Story of Delusional Disorder

When Pauline Dakin was 10 years old, her mother took the family into hiding to escape imminent danger. Fifteen years later, Pauline was told that they were on the run from the mafia.

At first, accepting of this explanation, Pauline’s doubts grew until she could no longer deny the truth: that there was no danger and she was being misled. Join us as Pauline shares how she came to this heartbreaking conclusion.

SUBSCRIBE & REVIEW

Guest information for ‘Delusional Disorder’ Podcast Episode

Pauline Dakin is the bestselling author of Run, Hide, Repeat: A Memoir of a Fugitive Childhood, a Canadian bestseller and winner of the 2018 Edna Staebler Award for Creative Non-fiction.

For many years, Pauline was a trusted voice on health and medical issues as the national health reporter for CBC News. Her reporting and documentary work has been recognized with many regional, national, and international awards. She is a three-time recipient of fellowships from the National Press Foundation in Washington and is a fellow of the MIT/Knight Science Journalism program on medical evidence in Cambridge, Mass. She currently teaches journalism at the University of King’s College in Halifax, N.S., Canada.

Computer Generated Transcript for ‘Delusional Disorder’ Episode

Editor’s Note: Please be mindful that this transcript has been computer generated and therefore may contain inaccuracies and grammar errors. Thank you.

Announcer: Welcome to the Psych Central Podcast, where each episode features guest experts discussing psychology and mental health in every day plain language. Here’s your host, Gabe Howard.

Gabe Howard: Hello, everyone and welcome to this week’s episode of the Psych Central Podcast. And today I will be talking with Pauline Dakin who is the bestselling author of Run Hide Repeat: A Memoir of a Fugitive Childhood which tells the true story of her mother’s misguided belief that their family was in constant danger. Her book also won the prestigious Edna Staebler Award for Creative Non-Fiction last year. Pauline, welcome to the show.

Pauline Dakin: Thanks for having me, Gabe.

Gabe Howard: Well it’s an amazing story. Normally I say hello, thank you for being here, it’s wonderful, and we make pleasantries but I want to jump in. I became aware of you by reading I believe a New York Times article on your book and I just I absolutely had to know more. First off, can you tell us just maybe like a brief synopsis of what the book is about and then we’ll get into the details.

Pauline Dakin: Ok, well my brother and I grew up with some very strange things happening. Twice my family disappeared. So it was me, my mom, and my brother and twice we moved away without telling anybody and started a new life. And of course, my brother and I would always say why what’s going on with the why is everything always so secretive? Everything we were always told you can’t talk about this. Don’t talk about that. And the answer was always well when you’re older I’ll tell you. And then when I was 23 my mom and a longtime family friend named Stan Sears met me in a motel room halfway between where I was living in my mom was living and they sat me down and told me that the reason for all our strange behavior and disappearances was that we’d been on the run from the mafia and that my dad was involved in organized crime. So you know and it seemed like a very far fetched idea. You know why us and there was quite a complex explanation for that. That had to do with the fact that Stan Sears who was a United Church minister and a psychologist did a lot of counseling for an organization that dealt with family members of alcoholics and that he had counseled somebody who was involved in organized crime in the Vancouver waterfront. And that that was where it began that he came to the attention of the mob and then a variety of things came together that sort of connected my mother in with that. So a very complex story was still very hard to believe but I did believe that for some years.

Gabe Howard: The very first time that your family picked up and moved. How old were you.

Pauline Dakin: So that was the summer that I turned 10.

Gabe Howard: So your brother is even younger and you said it was your mom your brother and you and that your father was somehow involved. Was he concerned that you were fleeing from him how did he react to all of this.

Pauline Dakin: Yeah well my parents were divorced and my dad was alcoholic and there was a lot of legal conflict about his access to us. So the courts at some point had decided that it wasn’t safe for us to be with him. So there were issues around that. You know he. He was the kind of dad that you know back in the day dads weren’t as involved in parenting and I think he was kind of dad that was more interested in older kids and didn’t quite know what to do with the younger kids. So I know that he was concerned at some point but he didn’t really come looking for us for quite a while.

Gabe Howard: So your mom and your brother and you and the Family Minister when you were 10 years old abruptly left in the middle of the night and took off you were running. I mean they told you were running. This wasn’t like a planned move I assume.

Pauline Dakin: No. What happened was. And so it was the minister, Stan Sears, and his wife. So we were family friends and we often went camping together to families together. And so that’s how it started. We went on a camping trip cross country and when we arrived at our destination that’s when my brother and I were told we won’t be going home and you can’t tell anybody.

Gabe Howard: What, did they change your names or anything? I mean it seems so cloak and dagger.

Pauline Dakin: Yes. No names weren’t changed. And you know I think I often think about how connected the world is today that I can find anybody online.

Gabe Howard: Right. Right.

Pauline Dakin: But in those days it wasn’t so and nothing was computerized. So I guess there were not the same ways to trace people.

Gabe Howard: And that probably helped it. But what year are we talking here.

Pauline Dakin: So we’re talking about the mid 1970s and you know there were no cell phones. There was no Internet. It was a very different world.

Gabe Howard: So here you are you’re 10 years old and you’re starting over you’re starting a new life. You thought you were going camping but you left most of your stuff at your old place and now you’ve started a new. What was that like. Did life go on as normal for a while. I mean I imagine this was very shocking but did things just settle in. I mean a lot of things are shocking to kids you know.

Pauline Dakin: It was our normal in some strange way it became our normal and we became used to this. You know don’t talk about what our family is doing or where we’re going or what’s going on. I mean we always thought it was strange. We always tried to say you know what’s going on with our weird family. But yeah it just became kind of the thing that you would just sort of shrug and go there mom goes again. In other respects we had a very stable home. I know that sounds like a crazy thing to say but you know my mom had a beautiful Sunday dinner on the table every Sunday it was sacrosanct. You didn’t miss Sunday dinner. She played catch with my brother in the backyard after dinner every evening when he was trying out for the baseball team. We were up early before school to do drills for our math you know. So there was a lot of stability and support. And my brother and I have talked a lot about this and said there was never a moment that we didn’t feel loved and cared about. And I think that that’s very protective for kids. So even in the midst of all of this chaos that you know with these moves and other bizarre things going on there was some consistency and some sense of stability around being cared about.

Gabe Howard: And how long did this new life last before you moved again? And what was that move like? Was it in the middle of the night? Did you go camping again?

Pauline Dakin: No. So this time I was 13 so it had only we only stayed a few years. My brother was eleven. My mom said OK I’m we’re going to move again and I’m sorry that the way that happened last time and I won’t do that to you again. But it’s a secret you can’t tell. And so she was going to sell the house that we were living in and we just weren’t allowed to talk about where we were going. And so the house finally sold. And Stan and Sybil Sears, his wife, had already moved away a few months earlier and we were going to join them this time at the other end of the country so we’d gone from coast to coast now. And that I have to say that that was the most difficult move for me. But by far I was a 13 year old I had great friends. I loved my school. It just felt like it had become a good place for me. And then just to sort of get ripped away from that I found very hard. And I went to a new place that was a smaller community. It was a smaller town and in fact in the neighborhood that we moved to. Nobody could remember anybody moving into the neighborhood. It was none of the kids my age could remember anybody ever moving in. It was just you know one of those more small town places. So it was tough.

Gabe Howard: And the way that you make friends is by sharing details of your personal life. And this was expressly prohibited. Now all the kids at your new school are like Hey where are you from what are you doing here and you’re like.

Pauline Dakin: Yeah.

Gabe Howard: What was that like?

Pauline Dakin: Oh that was a huge issue for me because this was a town. It was had a pulp mill it you know it didn’t really have a lot of things to recommend it. At least the people who lived there didn’t think that. And you know I kind of agreed with them and so people would say well why would you ever move here. And I thought yeah but I wouldn’t have if it had been my choice. But you couldn’t say that and I said to my mother What am I supposed to say when they say well why would you ever move here. And she said just tell them you know that we wanted to live by the ocean again which just sounded like such a lame thing to say as a 13 year old we wanted to live by the ocean. It was very it was hard. And yes having a secret that you’re keeping is like putting a wall between you and everybody around you. And I didn’t really understand that until really I stopped keeping that secret. And suddenly I felt this huge relief and I could allow people to really know me. And so I was. My relationships improved dramatically as a result.

Gabe Howard: We will be right back after a message from our sponsor.

Announcer: This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp.com. Secure, convenient, and affordable online counseling. Our counselors are licensed, accredited professionals. Anything you share is confidential. Schedule secure video or phone sessions, plus chat and text with your therapist whenever you feel it’s needed. A month of online therapy often costs less than a single traditional face to face session. Go to BetterHelp.com/PsychCentral and experience seven days of free therapy to see if online counseling is right for you. BetterHelp.com/PsychCentral.

Gabe Howard: So eventually you become an adult. Do you go off to university? You go off to? What happens to two adult Pauline?

Pauline Dakin: So yes I went off to university you know got my own place. I became a reporter and so I was a new very young reporter at the time I got this phone call from my mom. Hey I know that you’ve been very frustrated about all the secretiveness in our lives and so on. It’s time to tell you. So that’s what was going I was just about to graduate from university I’d been working part time for a newspaper as a reporter and I was about to start full time. And that’s when the call came and I learned this crazy story.

Gabe Howard: And here you are. You’re in a motel. Your mom is there. Stan is there. And the two of them together tell you about the danger the mob the running and just the whole dramatic story. What’s the first thing that went through your mind.

Pauline Dakin: Well the first thing was this can’t be true. But why would these two people who are that he was, Stan was like a dad to me. He was wonderful to us as kids because our dad was never around and so it was like this cannot be true. But these are two wonderful people who really care about us. They’re respected in the community they have responsible jobs. Why would they make this up? So it was just mind blowing to me and then they started saying hey do you remember the time that this happened? Remember the time that happened? And they started sort of putting these puzzle pieces together convincing me that this was true and you know you can, well. It was somewhat convincing. I mean I was still struggling with it but ultimately, I decided if I can’t believe these two people who have never been anything but trustworthy and supportive in my life then who could I ever believe. So I guess I decided to believe it despite the fact I really was struggling. My second thought was if this is true maybe I should go to Australia and try to get lost.

Gabe Howard: If it is true you’re potentially still in danger but if it’s not true your family lied to you for half of your childhood. So your choices are not great.

Pauline Dakin: Yes. Yes.

Gabe Howard: And one of the themes that sort of runs throughout your book is that you know your mom was not a bad person you love your mother very much Stan was not a bad guy you looked up to him and respected him and there’s no I’m going to ruin the ending for everybody.

Pauline Dakin: That’s OK.

Gabe Howard: They were not fleeing from crime the ending of this is not that they robbed a bank and we’re trying to outrun law enforcement. There was none of those things. They were good people who broke no laws who did nothing wrong but they had this belief that although not true impacted you very greatly.

Pauline Dakin: Yes that’s right.

Gabe Howard: And you’re trying to put this together. So you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place on what to believe but eventually you start trying to put this together and prove definitively about whether or not you’re in danger or about whether or not your mom is wrong. Can you talk about that a little bit.

Pauline Dakin: Yeah well I mean it just became harder and harder to continue the belief in this. And you know part of it was that my mother that Stan had gone inside so he had essentially disappeared into a secretive world that was kind of like a… a protective custody situation. But anyway is a very complex world and it was a big part of the story. And then my mother decided she was going to go inside and the big surprise was by the way Stan and I have been in love for years we’ve never done anything about it but civil has decided not to go inside. We want to be together and I’m just you know my head is spinning and eventually I reached the point that I just had to know I just had to know. And so I kind of did a sting where I mean the problem with a secretive thing is it’s very hard to prove something is true or not true because every time you say well what about this? Well, that’s a secret. So there’s no way

Gabe Howard: Right.

Pauline Dakin: To prove or disprove a secret. So I pretended my house had been broken into and I called my mother at a time. So Stan used to come out to visit her from inside and at a time I knew he was visiting her. I called her and said My house has been broken into what should I do. And she said I’ll call you right back. I’m going to talk to our friend. And of course you do you talk that way because your phone is probably bugged right. I hang up and I wait for her to call me back. And it was just excruciating. And then she called and she said yes. He says that two people have been picked up outside your home. They broke in. They were looking for certain things. They’d been following you. They had photographs of you. So you in all this crazy stuff. And in that moment I knew none of it was true because there hadn’t been a break in. So oh it was just like having the rug pulled out from under you. And so eventually I confronted them and they were very upset mostly because they were afraid that if I didn’t believe the story I would not take precautions to protect myself. And so it began a time that you know we still all loved each other very much. I still loved my mom. I don’t know. I was struggling more with Stan but but you know we were looking at each other from across this abyss of this story that they believe deeply and I could not any longer believe at all.

Gabe Howard: Now in that moment right before you did the sting Were you still open to the idea that it might be true. As soon as this thing was over you were 100 percent positive that everything was was a lie. Where were you the moments before you incorporated the sting.

Pauline Dakin: Yeah I think I’d been creeping up the spectrum towards disbelief for a long time. And by that time I guess I was probably about 90 percent sure it wasn’t true but I had to know because of everything that was at stake and for me to say definitively you’re not telling the truth to me it was you know an understanding that I was going to do terrible damage to some of the closest relationships in my life. My mom in particular.

Gabe Howard: And you did so after the sting you. You’ve sat down with your mom and you looked at her and you said Mom there was no break in. You told her the whole story. You know this is untrue. What happened then.

Pauline Dakin: Well she was very upset and you know how could I have done that. And now I you know I couldn’t be part of the Inside group of insiders you know it’s either you’re with us or against us kind of thing right. And now I might be in danger. And so on and I just said Well there is no particular danger and then I confronted Stan. We went back to where he was and confronted him together and he was very sad. His reaction was that he was very sad because now I was no longer part of this circle. And I had the sense and this has been borne out that you know this was always Stan story. He was you know there were letters that came from the what we called the weird world like the inside from people who had been involved in organized crime and arrested. You know I would receive letters from these people some of whom were supposedly family members of mine who’d been involved in or like on my dad’s side. And so you know they all this stuff always came through Stan. He was the arbiter of all information and all contact and so on and so I knew this was his story. And I guess my mother just sort of loved and had such regard for him that she just adopted his story. She couldn’t believe that he would ever lie.

Gabe Howard: And these letters were fake? Were they written by Stan? Made by Stan? I mean just.

Pauline Dakin: They had to have been there and how he had the time. There were hundreds of them.

Gabe Howard: Oh wow.

Pauline Dakin: And how he ever had the time to do that I don’t I can’t imagine the whole the whole thing is there’s still some real mysteries around the story.

Gabe Howard: That is incredible. So where are you now? Did the rift heal? Did you find a way to continue on? How did Stan react? What happened to you and your family after all of this?

Pauline Dakin: Well my brother and I got together and talked about how could we essentially rescue our mom from this situation and he went to the police and the police said she’s an adult not nobody’s being hurt. Nothing we can do. And so we just kept on keeping on. And you know I struggle my mom and I struggle a lot to maintain any kind of a relationship. Then I got married and had kids and so we just had this relationship where we agreed to disagree and not to talk about any of that stuff and if she raised it I just shut it down. I’m not talking about that. I don’t believe that. And she continued to worry about me and my brother and would we be OK. And then she got very sick. She’d had cancer twice and she had a recurrence of cancer. And she came to live with me for the last nine months of her life. And you know we weren’t we were never able to resolve this between us. But what we were able to do was come to a kind of peace where I know you believe that I don’t believe that but I really love you. And you know, she was incredibly grateful to be living with me when she was sick and dying. And so you know there was some grace there for us not resolution but some grace.

Gabe Howard: From the time that you confronted your mother until the time that she passed away how long of a period of time was that.

Pauline Dakin: So from the time you know of that initial confrontation until the time she died would have been almost 20 years.

Gabe Howard: And so for those 20 years you did find a way to stay in your mom’s life. And what kind of a grandmother was your I mean your children had a 20 years a long time. Your children had a relationship with their grandma. What was that like?

Pauline Dakin: Yeah you know she was always a very loving person and she was thrilled to have grandchildren and they were all very close. Things kind of changed because Stan died. And so then the whole kind of story went underground and there were only a couple of times that she said things that made me know that she still believe. But it was important to me that she not be talking about that stuff to my kids. So we were clear about that. And outside of that she you know she loved my kids and they really loved her. I’m really grateful they got to know her.

Gabe Howard: From the time of the you know the sting operation to the time that Stan passed away How long was that.

Pauline Dakin: Only a few years maybe four or five years.

Gabe Howard: So your mother outlived Stan by 15 years. So did your mom and Stan’s marriage end in divorce?

Pauline Dakin: Well they never got together really. You know they wanted to be together. They wanted to go inside and be together in protective custody. But that never happened. And so you know she would see him on these visits and he would phone her and so on. Yeah. So the way she found out that he had died was that she got a letter from his wife. So he had never you know he was still in his primary marriage at the time he died.

Gabe Howard: This is absolutely incredible and it’s all chronicled in this book Run Hide Repeat: A Memoir of a Fugitive Childhood and from a personal level you had to recall all of this. What was that like for you to relive all of this, in writing the book?

Pauline Dakin: You know what, it was a very hard time. But I think you just reach a certain age and I had spent a long time just thinking OK forget about this. This was a terrible thing it happened but forget about it put it behind you move on. Focus on your family and your career and so on and that’s what I did for a long time but then I think at some point you just have to stop and shake your head and say what the heck was that. What happened there. And so I began to think about it and then I began to write out to write about it as a means of trying to sort it out for myself and knowing that someday I would want to tell my kids this in a way that wouldn’t make them hate their grandmother who they loved so much I wanted to be able to tell them about this in a very nuanced way within a context. And so that’s why I started writing. And actually it was while I was writing I was doing research thinking so what could have been going on with Stan? I was a health reporter for the national broadcaster in Canada for a while. And so I you know I read a lot of medical journals. And so you know I was looking for information about you know he didn’t show any. He wasn’t schizophrenic. He didn’t have any of those other symptoms you associate with major mental illness. What was going on? And it was while I was doing that that I made a big discovery which was became the impetus for me to share this story more widely. I mean initially it was just for my family but then I when I made this discovery I just thought nobody has heard of this before and I need to share it because it essentially had such an impact on my life and my brother’s life. Other people should know.

Gabe Howard: And what was the discovery. Because I think to the average person listening to this story they’re like Oh Stan was a con artist and your mother must have given him a lot of money like that. That’s where I’m sitting here right now thinking that’s got to be it. And I’ve read the book

Pauline Dakin: Yeah.

Gabe Howard: So and I still want to believe that.

Pauline Dakin: Yeah.

Gabe Howard: But what did you learn?

Pauline Dakin: Well so first of all no he no. My mother never gave money in fact he often helped support her family. So what I discovered was an article by a professor psychiatrist at Harvard writing about something called delusional disorder and he described it as something that at least in the literature is extremely rare and in fact you know I called him up and said OK can I can I talk to you about this. I mean as a reporter I was used to calling people up and interviewing them so I can I talk to you about this. And so we had a very long conversation where I described what had happened and he was fascinated of course. And so you know he said during that you know most doctors will never see a case of this because these people appear completely normal. They don’t think there’s anything wrong with themselves. And so they don’t go looking for help. They don’t turn up as an issue in society unless they have you know there’s some subtypes of delusional disorder that occasionally you hear about. But with the kind that Stan had persecutory delusional disorder where you believe that somebody is coming after you somebody is trying to harm you somebodies hunting you down that that rarely comes to anybody’s attention because they keep the secret. Right.

Gabe Howard: Right. For their safety.

Pauline Dakin: You know he was able to have a completely normal life in a very public and responsible job. Retired. People loved him. People come to when I do a book reading people come and they cry and they tell me what a wonderful man he was and they just how could this have happened. You know so it’s a very bizarre condition.

Gabe Howard: It really really is. What did you hope people would take away from this.

Pauline Dakin: I think there are several things. One is that children can be so vulnerable and I often think about you know the teachers and the adults in our lives. And you know did anybody raise concerns when a couple of kids just kind of disappear from school and after school activities in the neighborhood and so on. Again I don’t know that this could happen today just because of how connected we all are. But I just I wanted to say you know you never know what’s going on in somebodies life and kids there needs to be ways of protecting kids. So that’s one. But you know on the other spectrum I think there is a remarkable story about you know everybody always says to me how did you survive this. Well it’s a resilience thing you know and resilience isn’t. Either you got it or you don’t. Resilience is something that you can develop in your life. And I believe that my brother and I have the resilience to get through all of this because of how well loved we are. And I know it’s paradoxical. So a parent who puts you in jeopardy but at the same time who gives you the resources and the support to become a resilient person. It’s a crazy thing but that’s what I believe. And I guess the other thing is I really wish people would pay more attention to delusional disorder. I wish somebody would try to do more research on it. I’ve heard from people all over the world who’ve said to me Oh I never knew what was wrong with my son my aunt my father my husband. You know that must be it. So I doubt that it’s really as rare as the medical literature would suggest.

Gabe Howard: Where can we find you and where can we find the book.

Pauline Dakin: You know the book has been out for almost two years now. So at one point it was available around most bookstores in North America. But if it’s not Amazon’s a good spot I have a Web site PaulineDakin. com with links to places that you can buy it. And I really appreciate your interest.

Gabe Howard: Thank you so much Pauline. I just I really appreciate having you on the show and thank you everyone for tuning in. Wherever you grab this podcast if you can give us as many stars as humanly possible and use your words tell other people what you liked about it or Hey what you didn’t. But we like fans more. And remember you can get one week of free, convenient, affordable, private online counselling anytime anywhere simply by visiting BetterHelp.com/PsychCentral. We will see everybody next week.

Announcer: You’ve been listening to the Psych Central Podcast. Previous episodes can be found at PsychCentral.com/Show or on your favorite podcast player. To learn more about our host, Gabe Howard, please visit his website at GabeHoward.com. PsychCentral.com is the internet’s oldest and largest independent mental health website run by mental health professionals. Overseen by Dr. John Grohol, PsychCentral.com offers trusted resources and quizzes to help answer your questions about mental health, personality, psychotherapy, and more. Please visit us today at PsychCentral.com. If you have feedback about the show, please email [email protected]. Thank you for listening and please share widely.

About The Psych Central Podcast Host

Gabe Howard is an award-winning writer and speaker who lives with bipolar and anxiety disorders. He is also one of the co-hosts of the popular show, A Bipolar, a Schizophrenic, and a Podcast. As a speaker, he travels nationally and is available to make your event stand out. To work with Gabe, please visit his website, gabehoward.com.

from World of Psychology http://bit.ly/2L2zEwA via theshiningmind.com

#World of Psychology #child psychology

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researching01 · 6 years ago

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Caffeine Withdrawal Headaches or Migraines? How to Tell the Difference | SELF

New Post has been published on https://headacheshelp.com/trending/caffeine-withdrawal-headaches-or-migraines-how-to-tell-the-difference-self/

Caffeine Withdrawal Headaches or Migraines? How to Tell the Difference | SELF

If you cut out coffee and quickly start feeling like someone’s banging a frying pan against your head, you’re probably wondering what’s going on so you can stop it. Are you having full-on caffeine withdrawal headaches? Or is caffeine such a magical substance that it was masking underlying head pain from something like migraines all along? It can be confusing to get to the bottom of what’s happening, especially when your head is throbbing so hard it’s tough to even think. Here, neurologists walk you through what you should know about this kind of head pain—and how to stop the pounding.

Caffeine withdrawal headaches are most likely your issue here.

These can happen when your brain becomes used to that regular hit of caffeine over time. But let’s back up a bit so you know exactly which processes to blame for your head pain.

Caffeine peps you up by affecting a chemical in your brain called adenosine. Adenosine typically accumulates in your brain over the course of the day, making you sleepy, Lauren Green, D.O., R.D., a board-certified neurologist at the USC Headache and Neuralgia Center and assistant clinical professor of neurology at the Keck School of Medicine of USC, tells SELF. As an adenosine antagonist, caffeine is an opposing force that helps wake you up by binding to your adenosine receptors. This blocks your brain’s absorption of adenosine, preventing the level of drowsiness you would otherwise experience, Dr. Green explains.

All of this can happen with even one cup of coffee. But when you regularly consume significant amounts of caffeine, you can develop additional adenosine receptors, Dr. Green explains. And, in general, your adenosine receptors will become less sensitive to the effects of any caffeine you do consume. This means that over time you need to ingest more caffeine in order to block adenosine’s fatigue-inducing effects, so you form a dependence of sorts.

That’s why you can experience caffeine withdrawal if you’re used to drinking caffeine daily and stop abruptly, Lauren R. Natbony, M.D., assistant professor of neurology at the Center for Headache and Facial Pain at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai, tells SELF.

Yes, caffeine withdrawal is a legit phenomenon. It’s actually included in the fifth version of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, which mental health experts use to diagnose various psychiatric conditions. If you experience at least three withdrawal symptoms within 24 hours of stopping caffeine consumption (or cutting back drastically), you could definitely be experiencing withdrawal. Symptoms include intense fatigue, irritability, mental fogginess, and—drumroll please—a horrible headache. (Dr. Natbony says people often describe these headaches as “diffuse and throbbing.” Not the most pleasurable experience.)

While even one-cup-a-day coffee drinkers can get caffeine withdrawal headaches and other symptoms, Dr. Natbony says it appears that there’s “a dose-dependent relationship” related to the amount and frequency of consumption. Translation: The more coffee you were drinking, the worse your withdrawal might be. (According to the Mayo Clinic, 400 milligrams of caffeine per day is the maximum safe amount for most healthy adults. That’s about the amount in four cups of coffee.)

Fortunately, for most people, caffeine withdrawal symptoms usually go away within about a week of cutting out caffeine, Dr. Natbony says (or within an hour or so of consuming caffeine). But you may be able to avoid the headache and other unpleasant symptoms altogether by weaning yourself off caffeine instead of quitting cold turkey. For instance, you could mix decaf coffee with your usual caffeinated stuff in greater proportions over time until decaf is all you’re drinking.

It’s unlikely that your post-coffee-cutting headaches are actually migraines you had all along.

“It’s an interesting theory, but it’s a very unlikely scenario,” Dr. Green says. Neither she nor Dr. Natbony believes they have encountered this situation among their thousands of patients.

The pathophysiology of migraines is complex and not yet completely understood, Dr. Green explains. However, doctors do know that small amounts of caffeine can sometimes help relieve migraine pain, according to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke (NINDS). It appears as though caffeine may do this by narrowing dilated blood vessels that might contribute to migraine discomfort. But doctors believe there’s much more to migraines than fluctuations in blood vessel width. “The vasodilation and vasoconstriction component is not thought to be as important as it [once was],” Dr. Green says.

Second, although caffeine can help treat migraines—especially in combination with other drugs, like typical pain relievers—it has not been established as an effective preventive drug for migraines, Dr. Green and Dr. Natbony explain. Its potential lies more in treating pain that has already begun, and even that power appears to be limited. “If it’s a mild migraine, there are some people that do respond to just a cup of coffee,” Dr. Green says. “But that’s not the case for most people with moderate to severe migraines.”

Another hole in this theory is the fact that even if caffeine was helping your migraines, you’d probably know you had them in the first place. “It is not likely for someone to have undiagnosed migraines that they didn’t know about,” Dr. Green says. According to the Mayo Clinic, migraines can begin at any age, but they often start during adolescence. In addition to pain, you’d probably experience other migraine symptoms, such as extreme nausea, dizziness, sensitivity to light and sound, or aura (sensory disturbances, like seeing zig zags or flashing lights). So, you most likely would have experienced head pain and other hallmark migraine symptoms before ever becoming a coffee drinker who experimented with cutting out caffeine, then suddenly started having migraines.

It is totally possible for a person with migraines to also experience a caffeine withdrawal headache, though.

In a truly unfortunate double whammy, both caffeine intake and caffeine withdrawal are potential migraine triggers, according to the U.S. National Library of Medicine. That’s why it’s so important to figure out how caffeine affects you if you have migraines.

For instance, even if caffeine does seem to help your migraines, having too much of it may prompt additional head pain. And, interestingly, daily caffeine intake can contribute to medication overuse headaches, Dr. Natbony says. Also called rebound headaches, these typically occur in people taking medication frequently for chronic head pain. On the flip side, you could build up so much of a tolerance to caffeine that the substance is less effective when you try to use it specifically to relieve migraine pain, Dr. Green says.

In the end, the relationship between caffeine and migraines is complicated. It’s pretty safe to say that if you’ve never had migraines and start getting headaches when you cut out coffee, it’s probably a caffeine withdrawal headache. But if that pain sticks around for over a week and all you’ve done is scale back on caffeine, you might want to check in with your doctor about your symptoms.

Source

https://www.self.com/story/caffeine-withdrawal-headaches

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