Post by Elysia O'Broin on Mar 23, 2010 15:35:36 GMT -5
The fact that she was here at all, in the middle of the woods surrounding the school, was a bit strange she had to admit. But her reasons made since to her while she sat in a huddled ball muttering her Hail Marys and other Catholic prayers, hoping against hope she could hold herself together with just that. When they stopped working and her shaking got worse (by now she was unsure weather or not it was from cold or her own trembling), she took to cursing her parents and her sisters and, most of all, her brother. Elly was aiming for a hundred, wondering vaguely as she kept herself from reaching for her lighter if they would actually come true.
"May you tumble and fall down five flights of stairs," she whispered to Collin fervently. "May your children hate you," was the curse to her sister Roslin. "May your heart freeze over with cold and you stop caring for yourself," to Elizabeth. "May your husband beat you till you black out," her voice becoming darker when she arrived at Juliet. Her parents were next and by then she was too upset to even utter what she wanted to happen to them.
She got to her feet then, pacing back and forth in a circle while her hands twitched and nabbed twigs and small branches from the trees; there was no way she was going to fight the compulsion to burn everything in sight if she held it in like this. May as well start a smaller fire to tide herself over and hope it didn't get out of control.
The twigs and branchs thrown together in a pile with a few stones around it, she finally fumbled with her lighter (dropping it two or three times in the melting snow) and lit it. Her body almost relaxed instantaneously when the smell of burning pine reached her nose and she sat and stared at the dancing flames for several minutes before reaching out toward it. She wounldn't touch it, she knew better, but she would always let her hand hover just over them to feel the almost painful sting of heat. This was her therapy, and no psychiatrist could change that.
Feeding some more fodder to the crackling flames to make them bigger, she smiled coldly to herself and muttered, "An' may ye all burn in Hell."
"May you tumble and fall down five flights of stairs," she whispered to Collin fervently. "May your children hate you," was the curse to her sister Roslin. "May your heart freeze over with cold and you stop caring for yourself," to Elizabeth. "May your husband beat you till you black out," her voice becoming darker when she arrived at Juliet. Her parents were next and by then she was too upset to even utter what she wanted to happen to them.
She got to her feet then, pacing back and forth in a circle while her hands twitched and nabbed twigs and small branches from the trees; there was no way she was going to fight the compulsion to burn everything in sight if she held it in like this. May as well start a smaller fire to tide herself over and hope it didn't get out of control.
The twigs and branchs thrown together in a pile with a few stones around it, she finally fumbled with her lighter (dropping it two or three times in the melting snow) and lit it. Her body almost relaxed instantaneously when the smell of burning pine reached her nose and she sat and stared at the dancing flames for several minutes before reaching out toward it. She wounldn't touch it, she knew better, but she would always let her hand hover just over them to feel the almost painful sting of heat. This was her therapy, and no psychiatrist could change that.
Feeding some more fodder to the crackling flames to make them bigger, she smiled coldly to herself and muttered, "An' may ye all burn in Hell."
