?You know, Melanie, you couldn?t really do anything about any of it.?
She was nervous, nervous and confused. She?d never taken to anything like this. There?d never been a shortage of people who were falling apart in this strange place. Like so many rock stars, people woke up hungover every day and people existed with a needle in their arms. No one ever really tended to care in this town.
And then there was Melanie. Her agents and coaches had been the first to notice her rapid decline. If she?d come into this place on a meteoric level, she?d started to fall with the same oblivious grace that hallmarked so much of the misguided killer?s actions and thoughts. There was only silence from the raven haired fireball that sat, perched atop a small chair, and stared around the office of one Doctor Paddock.
?There?s a lot of pragmatic value to this, you know. If you weren?t you, as in if your camp was tired of all the bad press, this wouldn?t matter. That?s the objective. You?re going to either die, you?ll probably kill yourself, or you?re going to end up on the front pages of too many magazines with a needle in your arm and they?re going to drop you. That?s objective, Melanie..--?
He?d tried to say more, the kind looking man with a weary, resigned smile seemingly etched onto his face. She, however, cut him off at the start. All that?d remained the same was the way her voice seemed to steal all the room?s attention like some wonderfully crafted symphony. It was still the subtle tone, a long lost river, that flooded but left no traces of her ever having been there. Crafted and smooth, it was as dangerous as the black waters that ran over jagged rocks. ?I know, I know. I know I?m just a tool to be used, I know I?m just some sort of way for a lot of people to make money. It was the same back home. I was just some tool so that a lot of people could kill a lot of things.? There was one change. The acerbic, biting quality had faded away. There was still anger, so much anger. It was, though, for once not directed at the world as a whole. Instead, the once proud paragon of the dark realms seemed to turn so much hate and so much anger back in on herself. It was a tired voice, a pained one.
?But that?s objective, like I was saying. I?m not making money off of you. Well, no more than I?c charge anyone else for the same sorts of things. I?m here to make sure you don?t kill yourself for a few reasons. One, you?re a person. Two, you?d kill a lot of other people in the process. So, let me ask you this. I?ve got a few questions. We?ll just do this one at a time. I need you to be honest. Do you have any friends??
The question hung in the pregnant, poised silence. The time she spent staring at her feet was a living thing, something with teeth and eyes, lips and a palpable sense. It had teeth and lips that twisted down into a sad, broken expression. It had eyes that glittered with tears strung through a web of smokey ashes. The thing, of course, was Melanie. A few blinks, sporadic things, did not shake off the orbs of wetness that hung from said raven?s wings. Nor did they seem to stem the slow tide that ran paths down the tanned expanse of an almost noble countenance. ?Not really, no. There?s people I hang out with, sometimes. But friends, as defined by this world?s vernacular? I suppose not, no.?
?Alright, thank you for being honest. You?re in a relationship, right?? His voice was the same controlled, modulated way it?d been this entire time.
?Yeah.? The single answer threw up red flags within seconds. The good doctor leaned forward, both hands on his knees. He?d not sat behind his desk, that was too impersonal. Instead, he?d sat directly across from her.
?That doesn?t really sound very excited, Melanie. Shouldn?t that make you happy?? He looked as if he?d expected more. The Mandolarion was, for the most part, a demonstrative soul. A light flashed in his head, something he?d put away for later.
?I fuck it up all the time. If anything, even being around her reminds me of that. You know, I guess I just sort of feel like when I?m around her, all I can think about is how much I?ve probably hurt her. I see her when she?s crying, mainly. That?s what I think about when I look at her. So it?s hard, really hard, to be around her sometimes.? For the first time, dark eyes that carried a physical weight to the dull attention they placed lifted and found the man?s. A strange contrast, his blue and her black. The blue was alive, it shined and bled humanity. Her eyes, the black ones, were but ruined, wasted oculars that contained no life, no emotion that found the surface. They were, for all intents and purposes, dead things. He, however, saw something deeper.
?See, that wasn?t hard, was it? You see, Melanie, I?ve dealt with a lot of people but one never like you. You?re complex, Melanie, you?re complicated. You?re also pretty easy to see through. Think of it like this, think of a misty morning. You can see the rest of the city behind the fog, right? You just can?t really see it well. You know there?s something there, some shapes, behind the fog. You?re like that city behind a lot, a lot of fog. I can see something behind the fog. Wait, no. This is more fitting. You like that city behind a lot of smoke, my friend. A whole lot of smoke over a burning city.?
?Well, yeah. I guess that?s true.? She squinted across at him, her hand cupping a slender chin within a calloused palm.
?I know it?s true, Melanie. And it?s not your fault. I?m going to tell you what you do, then I want you to answer. Then I?m going to tell you why you do it. Is that alight?? He actively sought the volatile woman?s permission. Delving into a subject was never a safe thing or even a very sure one. This subject, of course, presented known problems. A lit fuse, a match in a room full of explosives. ?No, wait please. Let me say this. I?m shocked, honestly, and sort of inspired by a single fact. We know a little bit about you, I talked to your coaches. You?re a lot better off than some people who carry less weight. I?m shocked that you?ve come this far and not killed yourself or done something to ruin your life.? He was only being so blunt because, in previous recorded attempts, subtle work had never impacted the layers upon layers of deception and wounded pride that held her mind together.
?I mean, I?ve thought about it before. I?ve thought about just not fighting or trying. Then I?d be dead but I?d not have killed myself. That?d look better in the papers. I?d feel better about that. But yeah, sure. You can say whatever you want, man. I?m not going to hurt you over words.? That, in and of itself, was small progress. She looked shy as she spoke the words, shy and almost surprised by her own demure acceptance of this entire process.
?You don?t like yourself or what you?ve become, Melanie. Therefore, since you think you have to be what others expect you to be, and I mean how others perceive Mandolarians, you force yourself into being what you hate. You throw up smoke screens and never let anyone know the real Melanie. Your mind knows that and it hates it, but it?s all you?ve known and, more importantly, it?s a defense mechanism. That?s how your brain defends itself from, frankly, you. You just detach and no one ever knows what Melanie?s really thinking. You give people pretty smiles and try to deflect any questions you can?t answer or don?t want to answer. Isn?t that what you do, Melanie? You?re the city, Melanie is. Your words and actions are the smoke that keeps anyone from getting close enough to see that you?re hurting, and you do that because you?re too proud, since you?re a Mandalorian that?s supposed to be so perfect, to admit that you?re not alright, not at all.?
He?d taken a hammer to a fact she?d always known. There was a long, long sigh that painted a reckless trail through the room which suddenly seemed like a prison, a confined cage. ?Yeah. That?s a pretty good way of summarizing it.?
?I?m not here to treat that. I?m not here to blame you or take you to prison. Hell, Melanie, if you need those drugs, take them now. I?m here to treat what causes you to be this way first. We?ll get to the rest, but right now I?m here to try and figure out the why and the when, not the how. You do all of these things, well just the thing we talked about, because of what I said and how you were raised. I mean, damn, Melanie! What else could you be? An adult can handle being wrong and being weak, they?re alright with being cut off because they know how to handle it for short amounts of time. A child doesn?t. That?s where you?re stuck, Melanie. Stuck as a five year old girl who wants love, attention and affection and doesn?t know why she can?t get it, so she lashes out and hurts others around her for making her feel this way. That?s what you did at that age, right? And have you ever really stopped??
?No.? This time the word was given easily. ?That?s what my people, my family, wanted me to be, I think. I couldn?t see it up until coming here. By then, I mean now, it?d been too long. I was addicted to it, I guess. I always knew there was something wrong with how I was raised and our world, but since I?d been told so many times that I was doing wrong or wasn?t good enough, I guess I sort of just accepted that. It was me, not them. So I just lived with it until I got angry, and then I?d do something?.awful. Or I?d let someone do something to me, you know? That anger replaced the hurt and then I?d try to make it go away when it came back, the hurt, by just numbing myself. The drugs, I take too much. I?ll always take them, I?ll die without them. But no one else took as many or took any, really, when they were so young. As I got older and realized I was pretty, it became the drugs and sex. If I could just convince myself that he or she loved me or needed me, even just for a few hours, maybe less, I?d feel alright for that time. Or, if it went south and became abusive, which it did, that was a different sort of hurt so even that was something I started looking for. I?m still running. I can see that, I?m not dumb. I?m just running from something I couldn?t ever fight, man. That hurts, knowing that. It hurts me every single minute of every hour in every day.? Her ashen hued stare pinned itself on the man. Fine features, beautiful ones. She?d not spoken idly, there was a regal sense of wounded beauty. A starving tiger?s grace. Something that?d fallen so much more. Something that?d have looked so much better with a single smile, an honest one. The one that?d died so long ago.
?I think you need to go outside for a few minutes and breath. Melanie.? He?d seen the way she reacted and spat words when prompted. She was demonstrative and expressive, absolutely. The tears had come with the force of a broken faucet. Pain had written itself along the hard lines of her nose and mouth. Her eyes had sparked, finally. Emotion lived there for short seconds, it called the dark pits home. But it?d been regret and hurt, agony and misery formed from so malleable a mind and heart. ?As a matter of fact, I?ll meet you outside. You like outside, right?? He?d hoped, he?d prayed ever since he was told he?d be seeing her, daily, for most likely a few months. Maybe a few years. Maybe this was what he?d been praying for. Maybe this was a hole in dark walls.
?Yeah. I?ll do that.? She prowled, having shot up from the chair, and quickly retreated. Again, she ran. Anywhere but here. Anything but what she?d been running from for so long.
She was nervous, nervous and confused. She?d never taken to anything like this. There?d never been a shortage of people who were falling apart in this strange place. Like so many rock stars, people woke up hungover every day and people existed with a needle in their arms. No one ever really tended to care in this town.
And then there was Melanie. Her agents and coaches had been the first to notice her rapid decline. If she?d come into this place on a meteoric level, she?d started to fall with the same oblivious grace that hallmarked so much of the misguided killer?s actions and thoughts. There was only silence from the raven haired fireball that sat, perched atop a small chair, and stared around the office of one Doctor Paddock.
?There?s a lot of pragmatic value to this, you know. If you weren?t you, as in if your camp was tired of all the bad press, this wouldn?t matter. That?s the objective. You?re going to either die, you?ll probably kill yourself, or you?re going to end up on the front pages of too many magazines with a needle in your arm and they?re going to drop you. That?s objective, Melanie..--?
He?d tried to say more, the kind looking man with a weary, resigned smile seemingly etched onto his face. She, however, cut him off at the start. All that?d remained the same was the way her voice seemed to steal all the room?s attention like some wonderfully crafted symphony. It was still the subtle tone, a long lost river, that flooded but left no traces of her ever having been there. Crafted and smooth, it was as dangerous as the black waters that ran over jagged rocks. ?I know, I know. I know I?m just a tool to be used, I know I?m just some sort of way for a lot of people to make money. It was the same back home. I was just some tool so that a lot of people could kill a lot of things.? There was one change. The acerbic, biting quality had faded away. There was still anger, so much anger. It was, though, for once not directed at the world as a whole. Instead, the once proud paragon of the dark realms seemed to turn so much hate and so much anger back in on herself. It was a tired voice, a pained one.
?But that?s objective, like I was saying. I?m not making money off of you. Well, no more than I?c charge anyone else for the same sorts of things. I?m here to make sure you don?t kill yourself for a few reasons. One, you?re a person. Two, you?d kill a lot of other people in the process. So, let me ask you this. I?ve got a few questions. We?ll just do this one at a time. I need you to be honest. Do you have any friends??
The question hung in the pregnant, poised silence. The time she spent staring at her feet was a living thing, something with teeth and eyes, lips and a palpable sense. It had teeth and lips that twisted down into a sad, broken expression. It had eyes that glittered with tears strung through a web of smokey ashes. The thing, of course, was Melanie. A few blinks, sporadic things, did not shake off the orbs of wetness that hung from said raven?s wings. Nor did they seem to stem the slow tide that ran paths down the tanned expanse of an almost noble countenance. ?Not really, no. There?s people I hang out with, sometimes. But friends, as defined by this world?s vernacular? I suppose not, no.?
?Alright, thank you for being honest. You?re in a relationship, right?? His voice was the same controlled, modulated way it?d been this entire time.
?Yeah.? The single answer threw up red flags within seconds. The good doctor leaned forward, both hands on his knees. He?d not sat behind his desk, that was too impersonal. Instead, he?d sat directly across from her.
?That doesn?t really sound very excited, Melanie. Shouldn?t that make you happy?? He looked as if he?d expected more. The Mandolarion was, for the most part, a demonstrative soul. A light flashed in his head, something he?d put away for later.
?I fuck it up all the time. If anything, even being around her reminds me of that. You know, I guess I just sort of feel like when I?m around her, all I can think about is how much I?ve probably hurt her. I see her when she?s crying, mainly. That?s what I think about when I look at her. So it?s hard, really hard, to be around her sometimes.? For the first time, dark eyes that carried a physical weight to the dull attention they placed lifted and found the man?s. A strange contrast, his blue and her black. The blue was alive, it shined and bled humanity. Her eyes, the black ones, were but ruined, wasted oculars that contained no life, no emotion that found the surface. They were, for all intents and purposes, dead things. He, however, saw something deeper.
?See, that wasn?t hard, was it? You see, Melanie, I?ve dealt with a lot of people but one never like you. You?re complex, Melanie, you?re complicated. You?re also pretty easy to see through. Think of it like this, think of a misty morning. You can see the rest of the city behind the fog, right? You just can?t really see it well. You know there?s something there, some shapes, behind the fog. You?re like that city behind a lot, a lot of fog. I can see something behind the fog. Wait, no. This is more fitting. You like that city behind a lot of smoke, my friend. A whole lot of smoke over a burning city.?
?Well, yeah. I guess that?s true.? She squinted across at him, her hand cupping a slender chin within a calloused palm.
?I know it?s true, Melanie. And it?s not your fault. I?m going to tell you what you do, then I want you to answer. Then I?m going to tell you why you do it. Is that alight?? He actively sought the volatile woman?s permission. Delving into a subject was never a safe thing or even a very sure one. This subject, of course, presented known problems. A lit fuse, a match in a room full of explosives. ?No, wait please. Let me say this. I?m shocked, honestly, and sort of inspired by a single fact. We know a little bit about you, I talked to your coaches. You?re a lot better off than some people who carry less weight. I?m shocked that you?ve come this far and not killed yourself or done something to ruin your life.? He was only being so blunt because, in previous recorded attempts, subtle work had never impacted the layers upon layers of deception and wounded pride that held her mind together.
?I mean, I?ve thought about it before. I?ve thought about just not fighting or trying. Then I?d be dead but I?d not have killed myself. That?d look better in the papers. I?d feel better about that. But yeah, sure. You can say whatever you want, man. I?m not going to hurt you over words.? That, in and of itself, was small progress. She looked shy as she spoke the words, shy and almost surprised by her own demure acceptance of this entire process.
?You don?t like yourself or what you?ve become, Melanie. Therefore, since you think you have to be what others expect you to be, and I mean how others perceive Mandolarians, you force yourself into being what you hate. You throw up smoke screens and never let anyone know the real Melanie. Your mind knows that and it hates it, but it?s all you?ve known and, more importantly, it?s a defense mechanism. That?s how your brain defends itself from, frankly, you. You just detach and no one ever knows what Melanie?s really thinking. You give people pretty smiles and try to deflect any questions you can?t answer or don?t want to answer. Isn?t that what you do, Melanie? You?re the city, Melanie is. Your words and actions are the smoke that keeps anyone from getting close enough to see that you?re hurting, and you do that because you?re too proud, since you?re a Mandalorian that?s supposed to be so perfect, to admit that you?re not alright, not at all.?
He?d taken a hammer to a fact she?d always known. There was a long, long sigh that painted a reckless trail through the room which suddenly seemed like a prison, a confined cage. ?Yeah. That?s a pretty good way of summarizing it.?
?I?m not here to treat that. I?m not here to blame you or take you to prison. Hell, Melanie, if you need those drugs, take them now. I?m here to treat what causes you to be this way first. We?ll get to the rest, but right now I?m here to try and figure out the why and the when, not the how. You do all of these things, well just the thing we talked about, because of what I said and how you were raised. I mean, damn, Melanie! What else could you be? An adult can handle being wrong and being weak, they?re alright with being cut off because they know how to handle it for short amounts of time. A child doesn?t. That?s where you?re stuck, Melanie. Stuck as a five year old girl who wants love, attention and affection and doesn?t know why she can?t get it, so she lashes out and hurts others around her for making her feel this way. That?s what you did at that age, right? And have you ever really stopped??
?No.? This time the word was given easily. ?That?s what my people, my family, wanted me to be, I think. I couldn?t see it up until coming here. By then, I mean now, it?d been too long. I was addicted to it, I guess. I always knew there was something wrong with how I was raised and our world, but since I?d been told so many times that I was doing wrong or wasn?t good enough, I guess I sort of just accepted that. It was me, not them. So I just lived with it until I got angry, and then I?d do something?.awful. Or I?d let someone do something to me, you know? That anger replaced the hurt and then I?d try to make it go away when it came back, the hurt, by just numbing myself. The drugs, I take too much. I?ll always take them, I?ll die without them. But no one else took as many or took any, really, when they were so young. As I got older and realized I was pretty, it became the drugs and sex. If I could just convince myself that he or she loved me or needed me, even just for a few hours, maybe less, I?d feel alright for that time. Or, if it went south and became abusive, which it did, that was a different sort of hurt so even that was something I started looking for. I?m still running. I can see that, I?m not dumb. I?m just running from something I couldn?t ever fight, man. That hurts, knowing that. It hurts me every single minute of every hour in every day.? Her ashen hued stare pinned itself on the man. Fine features, beautiful ones. She?d not spoken idly, there was a regal sense of wounded beauty. A starving tiger?s grace. Something that?d fallen so much more. Something that?d have looked so much better with a single smile, an honest one. The one that?d died so long ago.
?I think you need to go outside for a few minutes and breath. Melanie.? He?d seen the way she reacted and spat words when prompted. She was demonstrative and expressive, absolutely. The tears had come with the force of a broken faucet. Pain had written itself along the hard lines of her nose and mouth. Her eyes had sparked, finally. Emotion lived there for short seconds, it called the dark pits home. But it?d been regret and hurt, agony and misery formed from so malleable a mind and heart. ?As a matter of fact, I?ll meet you outside. You like outside, right?? He?d hoped, he?d prayed ever since he was told he?d be seeing her, daily, for most likely a few months. Maybe a few years. Maybe this was what he?d been praying for. Maybe this was a hole in dark walls.
?Yeah. I?ll do that.? She prowled, having shot up from the chair, and quickly retreated. Again, she ran. Anywhere but here. Anything but what she?d been running from for so long.