?So.?
Her irises cut to the edge of the device pressed between her cheek and her shoulder. She didn?t say anything into it. She just watched it and stayed silent, much like she?d been doing for the past ten minutes.
?You really pull a Dana Buch?? Monday almost sounded amused, the raggedness of his voice sanded down smooth in places. ?Bet you feel like absolute shit right now, huh??
That was why she called him. She responded with a gurgle, which was the closest approximation to a laugh she could make.
?How?uh, long?? He stopped and let out a grunt of effort. He must have been trying to sit up, something he could sometimes be bothered to do when a serious issue arose. ?Not how long you were out, but how long have you been, uh?nevermind. Where are you??
She slid the blue-ringed, black-bodied irises towards the window and settled back further on her calves. Her legs had long ago fallen asleep and passed through the stinging into an entirely numb existence beneath her. Inside her mouth, her tongue heavily flopped around while her jaw muscles groaned in unison; the whole affair produced a clumsy speech pattern and the voice one might expect from a person who had just swallowed razorblades. ?Don?t?know. Well, wait. Parking lot. It?s a parking lot.?
She held the phone to secure it and painfully straightened her neck, just to be sure. ?Twenty-four hour place. Drivers, people sleeping in cars.? She could?ve stood to follow their example. Instead, she remained kneeling on her back seat, cramping all her joints and tendons.
?Jesus. Is that what you?re going to do now? Live out of a car??
?N-no. No. Not living here,? she said with shaky indignation.
?Yeah, well, you sound like you aren?t even living at all. You sound like you?re going to drive off a cliff.? There was a thread of a hum in his tone. He was probably rubbing his temples, quickly losing whatever slight humor he?d been trying to drum up. ?Don?t drive off a cliff.?
?I won?t.? Her voice didn?t quiver like the rest of her body did. She?d just caught a whiff of miscellaneous breakfast dishes cooking.
His sigh was small, almost lost in the noise his hand made when it ran up and down his face and hair. ?Seriously. Don?t.?
She forgot how stiff she?d felt just minutes before as she crumbled against the seat. Her fatigue was teetering between frustration and absolute despair. ?I?m not. Going. To drive. Off a fucking cliff.? Each punctuation mark came backed by a twitch of her body as the sighs built up.
?Tenacity.?
Monday --though one of the few Casely offspring born without a genetic abnormality-- had a very special power. No frills and no illusion. In fact, it was quite the opposite and very specific to her. You see, he could cut right to the center of her bullshit just by saying her name, fitting a ?shut up, stay put, listen? all in the way he bit out parts of the letters. ?Not what I meant.?
She looked down. Submitted to him without him even being around to benefit, and hell, wasn?t that really the only reason she let it happen? Her esophagus burned with words that needed spilling and more bile that probably didn?t need releasing, but she fell into silence again.
He did, too. Briefly.
?Get up. Get up and find your feet. And don?t you dare stop walking until you figure out how you?re going to get yourself and your stuff right.?
?What if I?I can???
?Then you aren?t my sister. Get up. Fix it. Besides.? He breathed. It was a mockingly anguished noise. ?Besides, you?d look ugly as a hobo, anyway.?
Her irises cut to the edge of the device pressed between her cheek and her shoulder. She didn?t say anything into it. She just watched it and stayed silent, much like she?d been doing for the past ten minutes.
?You really pull a Dana Buch?? Monday almost sounded amused, the raggedness of his voice sanded down smooth in places. ?Bet you feel like absolute shit right now, huh??
That was why she called him. She responded with a gurgle, which was the closest approximation to a laugh she could make.
?How?uh, long?? He stopped and let out a grunt of effort. He must have been trying to sit up, something he could sometimes be bothered to do when a serious issue arose. ?Not how long you were out, but how long have you been, uh?nevermind. Where are you??
She slid the blue-ringed, black-bodied irises towards the window and settled back further on her calves. Her legs had long ago fallen asleep and passed through the stinging into an entirely numb existence beneath her. Inside her mouth, her tongue heavily flopped around while her jaw muscles groaned in unison; the whole affair produced a clumsy speech pattern and the voice one might expect from a person who had just swallowed razorblades. ?Don?t?know. Well, wait. Parking lot. It?s a parking lot.?
She held the phone to secure it and painfully straightened her neck, just to be sure. ?Twenty-four hour place. Drivers, people sleeping in cars.? She could?ve stood to follow their example. Instead, she remained kneeling on her back seat, cramping all her joints and tendons.
?Jesus. Is that what you?re going to do now? Live out of a car??
?N-no. No. Not living here,? she said with shaky indignation.
?Yeah, well, you sound like you aren?t even living at all. You sound like you?re going to drive off a cliff.? There was a thread of a hum in his tone. He was probably rubbing his temples, quickly losing whatever slight humor he?d been trying to drum up. ?Don?t drive off a cliff.?
?I won?t.? Her voice didn?t quiver like the rest of her body did. She?d just caught a whiff of miscellaneous breakfast dishes cooking.
His sigh was small, almost lost in the noise his hand made when it ran up and down his face and hair. ?Seriously. Don?t.?
She forgot how stiff she?d felt just minutes before as she crumbled against the seat. Her fatigue was teetering between frustration and absolute despair. ?I?m not. Going. To drive. Off a fucking cliff.? Each punctuation mark came backed by a twitch of her body as the sighs built up.
?Tenacity.?
Monday --though one of the few Casely offspring born without a genetic abnormality-- had a very special power. No frills and no illusion. In fact, it was quite the opposite and very specific to her. You see, he could cut right to the center of her bullshit just by saying her name, fitting a ?shut up, stay put, listen? all in the way he bit out parts of the letters. ?Not what I meant.?
She looked down. Submitted to him without him even being around to benefit, and hell, wasn?t that really the only reason she let it happen? Her esophagus burned with words that needed spilling and more bile that probably didn?t need releasing, but she fell into silence again.
He did, too. Briefly.
?Get up. Get up and find your feet. And don?t you dare stop walking until you figure out how you?re going to get yourself and your stuff right.?
?What if I?I can???
?Then you aren?t my sister. Get up. Fix it. Besides.? He breathed. It was a mockingly anguished noise. ?Besides, you?d look ugly as a hobo, anyway.?