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Post by Deleted on Feb 22, 2013 1:42:26 GMT -7
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #fff; width: 505px; border-top: 10px #95D9DE solid; ] [/style]
[style=font-size: 8px; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 5px; text-transform: uppercase; TEXT-ALIGN: CENTER; margin-top: -10px; color: #000; text-align: center; line-height: -2px]she ran away in her sleep and dreamed of paradise Seeing children always wrenched string attached to Cassiopeia's heart. She knew she was perhaps better off without a child tagging along with her, that she and her parents were much better of financially. Her mother and father always told her to think of the chances she would be missing. As they bought her prom dress, her mother smoothed down the front of the dress and mentioned that Cas would have to had the dress taken out if she had chosen to keep her child. Her father had happily mentioned that Cas's grades would be nowhere close to where they were when she did graduate if she had to wake up five times a night to take care of a kid. Cas had always thought that pregnancy was supposed to be beautiful, something to celebrate. Why did the tides suddenly turn when a sixteen year old was pregnant? Of all people, Cassiopeia was prepared to take care of a child. She had baby sat since she was thirteen years old, and no one was more mature than her. Yet, her parents and everyone else doubted her ability to take care of the child, and herself. It was for the benefit of the both of them. Cas never knew if she could forgive her parents for what they had taken away from her, and perhaps that was what stemmed her to move out of her home before she was even an adult in terms of age.
This was something Cas tried to not think about, regardless of the fact that she knew the more she tried to not think about it, the more she was thinking about it. Simply human psychology. She had enough on her mind now, living on her own, just her and her cat. She'd gotten Domino from a local shelter, slightly battered and already two and a half years old. They weren't even really sure how old he was when they found him, he'd been rescued from one of those awful homes you see on television where there are fifty cats living in one deceit home. Domino wasn't hostile though, the very least. He was always begging for attention, following Cas from room to room when she was in the house, leaping onto her lap and demanding to be pet. If she ever left, he would meow loudly until she returned home. He hated her leaving as much as she did, and he would always curl up with her in bed when she retired to sleep. He was what she needed to live alone, and seemed to understand when she was stressed. Domino would pounce over to her if she ever felt herself dropping into a panic attack, winding around her legs and purring loudly, or laying down on her lap and looking at her with his steady eyes. Cas didn't know how she could survive without the cat. It was stupid, but she needed something. If anything, he was a replacement for her unborn child.
This wasn't something she could think about either, her feet moving quickly under her tight skirt. She had to keep a catalogue of customers orders, names, table numbers, which tables she had visited for drinks, food or the bill, and so many other things. Her head was spinning, but not in a bad way, her short heels clicking as she walked. She had not been working at the restaurant for long, this was only her fourth shift. They had been easing her into it, her first three nights had been relatively slow. They decided after just three shifts Cas was ready for something of a more busy night. Of course, Cas never felt like she could be ready enough. The jitters of being new followed her in and back out again of the kitchen, not speaking to her co workers like many other seasoned employees seemed to have time to do. Cas was trying not to be bothered by the number of tables she had, keeping a numbered task list running in her head, her breathing even. She was trying not to be bothered by the sheer amount of people in the restaurant, even if it wasn't even at full capacity yet. She felt frayed and nervous that something would go wrong, but so far, it seemed like a smooth night.
Cas had taken the job at the local restaurant with hopes that it would help her get over the rest of her fear. After her abortion, she had crawled back into the hole alcohol had broken her out of. She had never really been confident in the long run, she just managed to fool herself. Cas knew with the right amount of push and a slight amount of medication, she would be okay. Even as she stood in the kitchen, she fiddled with the necklace she was wearing, one her mother had given her. She brushed her thumb over the engraving of her initials, reminding herself to stay calm, to breathe. Cassiopeia was good at controlling her panic attack these days, and recognized the tightening in her chest. She only had to remove herself from the situation. One hand rested on her stomach, as if to locate the panic, but that was hardly where it was stemming from. The habit had formed after her abortion, and Cas often felt like something was missing there. Sometimes she would wake up from nightmares with horrible cramps, possibly what it might feel like if a baby was kicking violently inside of her. Thing was, her nightmares weren't even nightmares. She often dreamed of children, blue eyed, brown eyed, light haired and dark. There was so many possibilities, so many people her child could have turned into. A boy, a girl, both or neither, and they all ran in Cas's head. She was currently on a short break, but being in the kitchen and watching the other waiters and the chefs run around was not helping the way she felt horribly nauseous. Cas was reminded of the morning sickness she had experienced for a while, even after the child was gone. She closed her eyes, feeling her skin prickle with heat, feeling faint. Cassiopeia looked up, counting the endlessly moving people in this room, and there were far too many for the size. The kitchen was small, maybe big enough for seven people, and alone there was six line cooks. Cas swallowed, her hands shaking. With quick steps, Cas moved from the kitchen, keeping her eyes down in case anyone tried to stop her. She couldn't remember how long she had left in her break, not long. Control was slipping from her fingers and she felt like her head was spinning. She knew that she'd forgotten someones order already, she was sure of it, and her shoes were hard to walk in. Cas hardly paid attention to where she was going before she found herself pushing through a pair of doors into a room filled with shelves and dry food. Cas snaked to the back, and sunk down on the floor. Her breathing was erratic, pained, as she fought past the fear, closing her eyes tight. The room was empty, save for her, but that only managed to calm her some. She knew she had to get up eventually, time was running out, people were waiting for her, someone could find her. There were too many possibilities.
1,233 words
i hope this is good, i'm super excited~
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Post by Deleted on Feb 23, 2013 21:50:50 GMT -7
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] in the end, everything collides my childhood spat back out the monster that you see - - - - - - - - - - - - - - If he ever let himself think about it, Xzuun would be baffled by how on earth he could handle doing what he did every day. How he could manage to talk to people and get their orders, how he could stand among crowds and navigate through them. He didn’t know how he could introduce himself to hundreds of people, how he could hold conversation with coworkers. But he didn’t think about it, and he instead focused on doing a good job. He didn’t need to analyse his own behavior because he only did what he needed to get by. The job had become almost habit by now, after doing it for so many years. There wasn’t much thinking required, and Xzuun liked that. It was one thing he was actually good at. Keeping tables straight in his mind, remembering who got which drink at which table and what orders of food went together, it was all so simple to him. Maybe it was purely experience, or maybe it was some innate talent, but it was even more powerful than all of his fears. It could be sheerly situational, too; the simple fact was that without this restaurant, without this job, he wouldn’t be alive. He would’ve starved to death, maybe, or been found and sent back to his father. The owner had done more for him than anyone and to repay him, he fought past everything that would ordinarily hold him back.
The night was slow so far, but Thursdays almost consistently were around this time. He had a fair amount of tables, though, since he typically had the largest coverage area because he could handle it. That was good, having things to do. It meant he didn’t have time to mill around and have people start talking to him. Most of his coworkers knew not to talk to him, that he’d only give small answers and then find an excuse to stop the conversation in its tracks. Some of them didn’t even want to, anyways, since he didn’t make consistent eye contact and he never smiled. There were a select few who didn’t mind that, though, and they always said hello cheerfully and checked in on him, and despite his usual disinterest in talking to them, he did appreciate that they seemed to care. Sometimes it was a nice reality check for him, realizing that despite what he thought, not everyone was against him. At least, not outwardly.
Aside from just waiting tables, Xzuun did a few other jobs around the restaurant. Having started as a dishwasher when he was fourteen, he knew his way around the kitchen. He’d been known to stay after closing to help wash dishes on the occasion that one of the dish machines broke down, or if one of the employees had been able to come in. He rolled silverware up in napkins, he’d bus tables and seat parties, whatever needed to be done when there was no one to do it. One could think he did these things for more tips or something, but in reality it had nothing to do with the money. He just wanted to be helpful, keep things running smoothly. He put almost all of his energy into this job, simply because there was little else to put energy into.
He would probably consider the restaurant to be the place he felt more comfortable, but that was hardly worth anything. There were still plenty of things to be uncomfortable about in here. The mirrors in the bathroom, for one, were something to be avoided at any cost. He didn’t understand the point of them, hanging above practically every sink in the world. What did people need to constantly be looking at themselves for? And these days he noticed the way that some people looked at him, batting eyelashes and penning phone numbers on napkins, purposely touching his hand as he handed them their check. He wasn’t so naive anymore to not understand what they meant, and he had moved past the belief that they were simply making fun of him, because it was simply too many people to be in on that game. No, he recognized the flirtation now, but he didn’t understand it. He didn’t know what they saw in him, but it must have been something they mistakenly believed was there. It made him uncomfortable, being treated differently, because he had never known what to expect to happen afterwards. It wasn’t exactly like he expected everyone to mistreat him, but he’d been touched too many times, too many things were said to him, it was impossible to not imagine terrible outcomes. He essentially trusted no one, except maybe his boss because of all the times he’d helped him. People were so unpredictable, susceptible to becoming completely different without obvious reason. They had mood swings and bad days and they lashed out. Some people ruined it for the rest, and he stayed away as best he could.
The avoidance of conversation, though, did not carry over to work related things. Even those who never spoke to him casually were willing to ask him for favors, not to take advantage of him but because he would do it and it was convenient when they were busy. He picked up tables if those waiting on them needed to leave for an emergency or something. He frequented the store rooms when the cooks were out of a certain spice and were too busy with things on the stove to go out and get it themselves. Customers would inform him of the bathrooms being out of soap or paper towels, and he would go and remedy it. Little things like that never bothered him, it didn’t inconvenience him to go out of his way and do something small. He was good at getting right back into whatever had been interrupted and finishing it in a timely manner. He was just good at his job, really, and that was the one positive thing about himself that he could really believe.
As he was wandering out of the kitchen, having placed an order, one of the cooks asked him if he could go grab something for him out of the store room, and so he did. Or at least, he meant to, until he discovered what was in there.
Xzuun did not exactly have the most cheerful memories of the place. There was still a small spot on the floor, traces of his blood from the time he’d been shot. It was his own fault, he supposed, that she was able to get in here. He was the one that had unlocked the door and left it that way while he was inside, but there was never a need before, to keep the door locked while inside. People had somewhat of an idea how to behave in restaurants, and the average person wouldn’t go pushing through doors that said ‘Employees Only’ simply because they were unlocked. He knew it wasn’t his fault, technically, but he still felt like it, he still blamed himself. Being in here only reminded him. It was alright now, though, it had been years. He was just paranoid about a lot of things.
The door had hardly closed when he heard someone breathing loudly. It didn’t sound threatening, frankly quite the opposite, but he still felt his stomach knot itself anyway. He tried to ignore it, to continue on his business and get back to work, but he happened to look towards the back and see her.
Ordinarily he might have pretended not to notice and just leave, but in the moments he had been looking that direction, he had taken stock of who it was. Memories hit him then; a dark empty street and an overpass and a girl standing on top of it. He wasn’t sure how he remembered her face so clearly, but he knew within an instant that it was her, and he realized just as quickly that he wouldn’t be able to talk to her like this. And so he spent a short moment looking at her, then turned away, grabbed what he needed from the shelves, and turned to leave.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 9, 2013 20:02:52 GMT -7
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #fff; width: 505px; border-top: 10px #95D9DE solid; ] [/style]
[style=font-size: 8px; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 5px; text-transform: uppercase; TEXT-ALIGN: CENTER; margin-top: -10px; color: #000; text-align: center; line-height: -2px]she ran away in her sleep and dreamed of paradise Sometimes Cas couldn't hep but feel like such a child. Being afraid of going out of her home, over reacting over the simplest things. Her body was wired this way, and simply going to the grocery store was a hard task for her. She was only nineteen, she was still young, she had a lot to learn in her life. Even when she'd wanted to kill herself, it felt like it was for the smallest of reasons. Dying to her wasn't about the pain she was in, however. It wasn't about feeling numb, heartbroken or in pain. It was simply about ending a life she felt served no more purpose anymore. It wasn't as if Cas believed her one purpose had been to carry a child, she was not so demented. She only couldn't see a place she could go, trapped in her parents home. A child’s worries, things could be so much worse. Yet, she was still paralysed by this fear that had no source. When Cas tried to explain her fears to most people, they just told her to face them, or to get over it. Like anxiety was something that she could get over, like there were physical fears she could face. That was half the panic, not having a way out, not knowing what could hurt her, or what was scaring her. She was getting better at controlling it, keeping her head, and she could at least participate in society, but she needed to learn not to push herself so far.
No therapist had yet been able to find the cause of her agoraphobia. Her parents told her as a child she'd been very clingy, crying if her mother even stepped out of her sight, and it seemed to be a purely physiological thing. They tried pills, but there was only so much drugs could do, and Cas didn't want to be dependant on them for her own life. She knew very well she could get better and she was acting irrationally and that was the worst part. And sitting here in this storage room wasn't much of a help. Cas knew she would have to calm herself down, and as good as she was at that, it was a hard task to manage. She couldn't lose this job, not right after the first few days. Finding a job was hard enough with her limited experience, and she’d been lucky this place had taken her in. The only other job she'd had was one with her mother, and though she was a hard worker, she knew many people would criticize her for that. At least the restaurant owner had seemed interested in Cas's aptitude and work ethic, had decided to give her a chance. She had explained to him a little bit about her anxiety, but not the whole story, the panic and the pills. She could handle this herself, or so she thought.
He breathing still racked in her hears, her chest heaving and heavy. It felt like walls were closing in. It would be so easy to leave, to just get up and walk out. Cas knew it happened, knew that sometimes people would honestly just leave their work during a break and never come back. She never understood the fact that people could just leave their responsibilities like that, it made no sense. Had they no sense of self? Cas knew how much the work place was affected when someone didn't show up for their shift, much less when they had to leave halfway through. She couldn't do that, not without making herself feel worse than she already did. If she left, it would be just giving up. Cas needed to prove to herself that she could do this. So she worked on the advice her therapist gave her, trying to steady her breathing, relaxing her body, telling herself that nothing was going wrong. Which it wasn't, things were going so well. She was doing well, none of her customers had complained and she often got compliments. Cas just had to focus on that. She was surprised past her breathing that she could hear when someone entered the store room. Well, she heard footsteps, and her body closed more in on itself. If someone found her, they would want to help her, figure out what was wrong, worry over her and that would make it worse. Cas kept her head drawn down toward her chest for a moment, her heart beating in her ears, yet aware that the footsteps stopped somewhere away from her. She only looked up when they moved again, feeling herself beginning to get a grasp on the fringes of her sanity. Only because she had too, because she had to appear sane. It looked like the person was walking away, and she could barely make them out past her tear blurred vision. But she knew, she knew even then who it was, because she had mapped his features in her mind with such precision, even after only seeing him once. It felt like a blanket had been put around her shoulders, and the world was a little bit frightening. She wanted to call out, stop him, not sure if he'd seen her but he must have heard her. She didn't know, but her opportunity slipped away, and her breathing took its time restoring to a normal rate. She felt like a deer in the headlights, struck by the suddenness of seeing him again, when she thought she never would.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 26, 2013 11:59:38 GMT -7
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] in the end, everything collides my childhood spat back out the monster that you see - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Life was precious. No matter what, Xzuun remembered that. People could be awful, times could get hard, and it could sometimes be that life was all you had. But that was enough to make it worth living, and that understanding stuck with him through everything. It had dawned on him years ago, cowering under a table as his mother begged for her life, that there was no turning back from something like that. In the end, her cries had stopped, and the real fragility of it all hit her son as the wave of grief enveloped him. From then on, though, he had known that life was for living, and through all of the bruises, the names, the bullying, through his rape and the appearance of his child, through being stalked and being shot, even through all of his fears putting him in such a state that he had willingly isolated himself from everyone else, he still continued on. He’d considered suicide before, certainly. After everything, the depression was overwhelming, and sometimes it seemed easier to die than to carry all of that with him. But he never tried, he couldn’t. Things would never improve if he was dead. Things would get better in life, they had to, because he knew that eventually, after feeling like he had hit the bottom, there would be only one way to go. It sounded very optimistic, and maybe it was, but not for the right reasons. It was only the certainty of it; death was a mystery, and he was never good at change. In some ways, it was his fears that kept him from giving up. How could anyone know that death meant relief? Xzuun didn’t know, and so he convinced himself that life was it, the ultimatum, that life was as good as it would get, and if one was unhappy with what they had, they just needed to fight back and to wait.
That was why, years ago, when he had been walking home from work, he had to stop and save a stranger. It was so strange, seeing that. How peaceful the night had been, and how at ease the girl on the overpass seemed. Everything was quiet, but inside his head, a series of alarms were sounding. His life would go on if the girl ended up letting her body fall, and, who knows, he might not even have felt guilty. But that was a life there, and he knew it was unfair to let her ruin her chances at something better. Death reminded him of his mother, and since she didn’t have a choice of whether to live or die, he realized that it wasn’t meant to be a choice. Suicide was flouting the system, and he couldn’t justify letting that happen. Maybe he had done the right thing, helping her get down off the bridge, but he had never been certain if it was done for the right reasons. Then again, maybe any reason to save someone’s life could be the right one.
There was nothing wrong with leaving the girl in the stock room, though, because she wasn’t in any danger there. She just needed time to calm down, he was sure. People had bad days, and that was okay. One could only do so much. He didn’t have time to try to coax her out of the corner, she needed to pull herself together and do it herself.
And even besides that, Xzuun didn’t have the willingness to start getting personal with someone again. Years ago, when he’d reached out to this stranger, it had been difficult. He wasn’t good at talking to people, he never had been. For his job it was different; he could take orders fairly easily and it was rare he ever felt uncomfortable with a customer. But to actually talk at a level deeper than server to patron, that was something he had trouble doing. Throughout his schooling, he didn’t often talk to people, not making friends easily because of his lack of trust in anyone. Now that he was older, there was less opportunity to talk to people, and he preferred it that way. It kept things simple.
So he pushed the girl from his mind. He didn’t have the time or energy to waste on thinking about her. He had work to do, and by the time he finished his shift, he had almost forgotten about what had happened earlier. The restaurant had been closed for the past hour, but the last customers had only just finally left the place. Xzuun liked working the latest shift. Dinner was always very busy, regardless of the day of the week or the time of night, and it made for a lot to do. It was relaxing, then, to watch the last few people leaving, tossing their tips onto the table and pulling on coats before walking out the glass doors at the front of the restaurant. Closing up always took a bit of time, with tables needing to be wiped down, dishes needing to be washed, silverware to be rolled up in napkins, floors to be mopped. That wasn’t Xzuun’s job, but often times he would opt to help if they wanted him. It never really mattered how tired he was, because he preferred to do something over doing nothing, and that’s what he would do if he left work. That night, though, the restaurant was staffed enough, and so he left after he had finished his own job.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 29, 2013 9:29:16 GMT -7
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #fff; width: 505px; border-top: 10px #95D9DE solid; ] [/style]
[style=font-size: 8px; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 5px; text-transform: uppercase; TEXT-ALIGN: CENTER; margin-top: -10px; color: #000; text-align: center; line-height: -2px]she ran away in her sleep and dreamed of paradise It was only a few moments before Cas was able to stand again, her legs shaky under her. Heels probably weren't a good idea, but the manager had recommended them in the uniform. She would have been creeped out, but it was a nice restaurant. She knew that. Never had she found herself in a place of calm so fast, so efficiently. Her eyes still trailed on the door, wild and slightly uncertain. Had it just been a hallucination? She didn't know. She had not seen the man since he'd saved her, and there was always a thousand scenarios running in her head. She always hoped she would run into him again, by some magic coincidence. She considered him as her guardian angel, some unknown spectre come to save her from shortening her life. Never before had she considered suicide, her life was good. Her parents were strict, but that was no reason for grief. Her death would cause too much sadness, she knew that. She had a lot to live for. Until her parents pulled it all away. Perhaps it was an over reaction, or perhaps it was a build up of stress and problems over the years. That night as she stood on the bridge, she realized how pained she was by her parents rules, even if it made no sense. Cas wanted freedom, and more over she wanted trust. If her parents had trusted her, perhaps she would not have ended up at that party with that boy and ended up with a kid. Her life would have been better. She hadn't wanted to die, she just wanted an end to all her pain.
However, it was better that she hadn't, that he'd stopped her. Cas was still astonished that a passer by could care that much, could notice her clinging to the edge of the bridge. He hadn't bothered to call an ambulance, just took care of her. She remembered his scars, remembered thinking he was a hypocrite, but they seemed healed, no new ones marking his flesh. He was like her, recovering, and she almost understood. It seemed they had something in common, just a little spark. Everyday she cursed herself for not getting his name, and the little he had told her about himself. She'd talked about her measly problems for the first time in her life, and felt selfish. It was good, though, just to get them off of her chest. Sometimes things just needed to be voiced to make one feel a bit better. As the years passed by, she had grown, teaching herself things. Now she was fixing herself, or at least trying, knowing she had made so much progress in the past few months even. All thanks to this man, who she didn't even know was real.
There was no incident when Cassiopeia returned to work, it seemed as if her disappearance had not been noted. She returned to her tables with smiles and faked confidence. Making small talk with the customers was easy, she found herself enjoying it at times. Cas was organized if not anything, and this job seemed to fit her though it was stressful. All she had to do was keep telling herself she could cope, she could do this. That night, she kept getting glimpses of the man from the corner of her eye, walking down to grab a customers order from the kitchen, assisting a table a ways from her. He never approached her and she did the same. He must have been real, or else Cas was really going insane. Every time she saw him was like a soothing pill, though, and the night passed without incident. She collected her few tips from her tables, smiled as the customers left, and felt wired but accomplished as the night came to an end. She'd never worked the dinner shift yet, and did not realize how late it would go. As she was getting her coat on as the restaurant closed around her, she knew she had missed the last bus home long ago. She could walk easily, even if her feet ached and she worried her skirt was too short though it hit just above her knees. At least it wasn't that cold out.
Cas hadn't seen him since a few minutes before close, and had no idea how late his shift had ran. She still didn't know if he was real, where he might be. But she was determined to talk to him, at least to get his name, thank him. It was not unusual to befriend coworkers. However she made to leave, feeling trying to find him would be useless. Again she was letting opportunity slip through her fingers, but what else was she supposed to do short of stalking him? It was by pure miracle that as she left the building, she saw a familiar silhouette in the distance. How strange, how he already seemed familiar to him. “Hey,” she called, her voice too loud in the quiet of the street, and she cringed. She'd jogged a tad to catch up to him, but stopped short of touching him, feeling wary he'd shatter under her fingers. “Hey uh...” she didn't even know what to say, how to speak to him. It had been so easy before, but now this was a normal circumstance. “I never got to thank you, for what you did,” that was at least good enough, and she only hoped he could remember her. “Or get your name. I'm Cassiopeia, if it matters,” she honestly felt like an idiot, she didn't know how to make this like the scenarios in her mind. But hopefully, things would turn out well.
this is getting better~
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Post by Deleted on Mar 30, 2013 15:10:02 GMT -7
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] in the end, everything collides my childhood spat back out the monster that you see - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Xzuun had what could perhaps be considered a nasty habit of remembering people. Often this caused him more harm than good; there were occasions where he would pass old classmates on the streets and flinch because of the memory of sharp words or a punch to the gut or simply being ignored. This wasn’t his experience for every person in high school, but it felt like enough, and for him it typically only took a few people being terrible to him to ruin his interaction with all people. That had always been obvious; ever since his dad came back, he’d always been a bit afraid of everyone. It didn’t take much to aggravate his fears. Simply a glimpse of someone he had once known could be enough to freeze him up. He didn’t quickly forget a face, and he didn’t forget what those faces had said or done to him. Perhaps if he had been as quick to like people in this way as he was to dislike them, he could’ve been much better off. But it seemed to only work one way, and consequently he didn’t like many people. It took a lot more than one instance of kindness to get on his good side, so to speak, and his avoidance of people typically removed the opportunity. Still, he didn’t see anything wrong with remaining on his own. At least that way, nobody could hurt him again.
It was just so strange, seeing the girl again. Of course he remembered her in an instant. Not only was it simply characteristic of him to remember, but how could anyone forget the face of a life they saved? He’d sometimes had dreams about it, too; not often, but frequently enough that any time her image began to disappear from his mind, he’d see flickers of overpasses as he slept, almost feel her hand on his arm as he helped her get down. Xzuun worried about her sometimes, he couldn’t help it. Sure, he had helped her that one night, but who was to say that she wouldn’t get back to a place like that? There were days where he wondered if perhaps he should’ve done more, but he reminded himself that she wasn’t his responsibility. He did something good for her once, and now she needed to take care of herself. Seeing her again now allowed him to know that she had, indeed, been better to herself than she had tried to before he found her. It was nice to know, but he didn’t have any real desire to go check in with her. Simply seeing her alive, distraught though she may have been, that meant something. Some people had bad days, and so he didn’t put much thought into her condition. She could’ve just broken up with someone, or had a rude customer, or something similar. Whatever it was, it meant very little to him, and so he had continued on with his day, leaving her in the stock room with no more than a glance. It wasn’t right for him to feel responsible for her. That just led to attachment, and he didn’t want that.
How strange it is, in human existence, that once one becomes aware of something, they find that something appearing in their lives so much more often. Xzuun lost count of how many times he saw her out of the corner of his eye that night, in the few hours before he got off of his shift. Neither of them made any move toward the other, though; she seemed to be perfectly happy to pass him by, and that was just fine for him. He wouldn’t know what to say to her if she did try to speak to him. Hey, it’s good to see you’re alive. Somehow, that didn’t seem like it was worth it.
As he left work that evening, it occurred to him that despite her not speaking to him, they’d see each other again, assuming that she ever worked there again, which was highly likely since most people didn’t simply work one day and never return. They might talk, eventually, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about that, given that he disliked talking to people as a rule. Still, shouldn’t he have been willing to let her if she wanted to, say, thank him or something? Whatever. He could think about that on some other night. Since she hadn’t said anything, had let him leave the restaurant without speaking to him, he stopped thinking about it.
Per general rule, Xzuun disliked being followed. It didn’t matter if he simply happened to be walking the same direction as another person who happened to be behind him. Circumstances were irrelevant, intent was irrelevant. If someone was behind him, he was paranoid. So when he heard the voice call out to him, followed by the sound of high heels jogging down the pavement, he could feel himself tensing out of habit. Even despite knowing there was nothing to fear in this situation, he still didn’t like being alone in the dark with a strange woman. Experience told him that things like this didn’t end well.
“You’re welcome. My name’s Xzuun,” he said simply, idly hoping that that could be the end of the conversation and she’d let him go on his way.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 2, 2013 21:55:06 GMT -7
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #fff; width: 505px; border-top: 10px #95D9DE solid; ] [/style]
[style=font-size: 8px; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 5px; text-transform: uppercase; TEXT-ALIGN: CENTER; margin-top: -10px; color: #000; text-align: center; line-height: -2px]she ran away in her sleep and dreamed of paradise ILove was something Cas had convinced herself she had once felt. That heated beating of her heart when she was with her boyfriend, the elated feeling of happiness. She only questioned it after the fact, when her heart had been broken and sheared. Alex had given her up so easily, tossing her out the window like he didn't even care. However, he had picked her up so easily as well. There was no chance, no build of fluttering emotions, no romance. They made out at a party and Cas felt like she'd liked him. Her stomach would erupt in butterflies when he would smile her way and she told herself she liked him. Cas barely know him, though, didn't know a thing about this boy. Being older, she realized it was infatuation. Liking the boy because he simply paid attention to her, and her mind was simple enough to develop obsession. So she had told herself she liked him and when they had started dating, she had been thrilled. Cas never needed to get close to him, she could skim off the surface, live in the elated life of a girlfriend. She never learned Alex's favourite colour, and so she never was let into his life. Coming from the relationship Cas knew less about him than she had at first. It wasn't that he was mysterious, he just had nothing to tell. Alex shared too much information with the wrong people and Cas liked to keep herself locked up tight, and their relationship would have burned alive if it had not been for the child. Alex had never loved her, that much was true but Cas wasn't sure if she could get herself to believe that. She was determined to think he had, but she needed a reason to have given her virginity to him. That still made her feel vulnerable, weak, and sometimes when she saw him she would get a flutter of what she had felt before.
Now, Cas didn't know how she felt about relationships. She was too busy trying to work on herself, and she felt like after one, she'd experimented enough. It was nice to know what it was like but that was all she needed. Though, Cas could care so well for a boy, she could understand others so completely if they just took the time to understand the little about her that she could offer. She wasn't complicated, she was kind and understanding and if she tried, could be a good girlfriend. She didn't mind, though, if she never dated again. Her life wasn't hitched on that. Cas was pretty, oh she was very pretty, but she didn't make a big deal about that. Half the time she looked in the mirror and was surprised by what was looking back. All she knew was she was working on her life, being happy, and moving on, and this man had helped her. There were so many things Cas didn't realize then that she knew now and she had him to thank for that opportunity. She didn't know if she would go so far to say she owed him her life, though she would have died if he had not intervened. It wasn't as dramatic as that, she just felt thankful and had to express this much. It was good to see him, as well, to know he was doing well for himself. He seemed to be a good worker, from what she had seen, and the others at the restaurant had treated him with respect. Cas had to look at him in that light as well, and more for saving her. Xzuun, as he introduced himself, at least seemed a little more put together than most men his age.
“I'm sorry, about before,” Cas hesitated, tugging at the folds of her coat, feeling odd bringing it up. It seemed the conversation was over, but she just didn't want to leave things left unsaid. “I get...anxious sometimes,” it was the closest thing to an explanation she could try and utter, and Cas didn't want to seem like she was trying to strike up a random conversation. She barely knew Xzuun, they'd only met twice. There was the sound of heavy feet from across the street, and Cas looked over her shoulder, noting a group of men weaving towards them on the opposite side of the street. “I should be heading home, though,” she said, her voice quiet, looking at Xzuun. Hey, sweetheart! the sudden call shot a shiver straight up Cas's spine and she stood a bit straighter, refusing to look around. The wind on the backs of her bare legs was suddenly far too cold. “Thank you, again though,” she wasn't even looking at Xzuun now, hearing the footsteps of the men draw closer, and was that the sound of shoes hitting the road instead of pavement? Hey, baby, why don't you come home with some real men,” the call was answered with several cat calls, and Cas dropped her head down, moving quickly to walk around Xzuun. Perhaps if she moved fast enough now, she could avoid the men. The footsteps were loud behind her though, definitely crossing the street, and she could hear the men laughing and jeering between themselves.
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