Post by Rachel Dávill on Feb 7, 2009 3:48:46 GMT 1
Rachel was pissed.
At least she had met a few people now, but still she walked quickly through the crowds of people with her head down, hair over her eyes, and her arms holding her books over her chest. She was hardly noticed anyway, 'I guess sometimes being so small does have an advantage' she thought, quickly shaking of that thought.
Rachel checked her watch. School was almost out, and she had to go see her shrink, Mr Grant. She hardly knew why she went. He always seemed to just read back what she had already said, then told her to work on it. She had insulted him about it before, but he would just shrug it off, and act like she was crazier than she was. Unbelievable. The arrogant dick. Rachel could feels her anger rising. She tried to calm herself down. Maybe it was the influence of this building, and it's people, but she had been feeling violent recently. She had already fought two people this week, and it was only Wednesday. Sure, compared to some of the Hiricine veterans, this was a walk to school, but it was a lot to her.
How could she calm herself down? She only went to that damn shrink to try and get some closure, and support, but all he cared about was his fucking pay cheque. She scratched her head irritably, and turned the next corner. The amount of students was minimal, thankfully. She was one insult away from a freak out. There were a few jocks gathered by the entranceway. She had to calm herself before she even thought about passing them. She took a quick turn to the right, shouldering into the girls lavatory. She dumped her books and purse by the sink, the contents of which scattered across the surface, and into the sink. She leant against her hands, looking into the mirror.
She was more pale than usual. She hated this. She was just stressed all the time, trapped in her own mind. She had no one to talk too, no one to be comforted by, no one to relieve some of her burdens. She burred her face in her hands. As her fingers parted, she saw some of her livelihoods in the sink. There was only one way to calm herself in these situations, and it was in front of her face, lying on top of her books. She straightened and looked left, right, and behind her. No one.
She moved over to the door quickly and shut it, then rummaged in her bag frantically. She brought out a small leather pouch, and flew into one of the cubicals, locking the door when she did. She knelt by the closed toilet, and opened the pouch. She retrieved a paper from the dispenser, and a filter from the plastic cylinder. She then opened her pack of tobacco. The smell wafted through the cubical. She scattered a thick amount across the paper. She rolled it expertly in her fingers. The final piece. She retrieved her filled grinder, and scattered a layer of marijuana over the tobacco. She licked the paper, and rolled it into a cone.
Minutes flew as thick white smoked escaped her lungs, and lingered in the cubical, and eventually escaped over the walls, and filled the bathroom with a light mist. She slumped against her hands and the wall of the cubical, not even noticing that all she was inhaling at this point was paper and filter. Her eyes closed themselves and she slowly leaned further to one side. She was almost asleep, but never quite there.
At least she had met a few people now, but still she walked quickly through the crowds of people with her head down, hair over her eyes, and her arms holding her books over her chest. She was hardly noticed anyway, 'I guess sometimes being so small does have an advantage' she thought, quickly shaking of that thought.
Rachel checked her watch. School was almost out, and she had to go see her shrink, Mr Grant. She hardly knew why she went. He always seemed to just read back what she had already said, then told her to work on it. She had insulted him about it before, but he would just shrug it off, and act like she was crazier than she was. Unbelievable. The arrogant dick. Rachel could feels her anger rising. She tried to calm herself down. Maybe it was the influence of this building, and it's people, but she had been feeling violent recently. She had already fought two people this week, and it was only Wednesday. Sure, compared to some of the Hiricine veterans, this was a walk to school, but it was a lot to her.
How could she calm herself down? She only went to that damn shrink to try and get some closure, and support, but all he cared about was his fucking pay cheque. She scratched her head irritably, and turned the next corner. The amount of students was minimal, thankfully. She was one insult away from a freak out. There were a few jocks gathered by the entranceway. She had to calm herself before she even thought about passing them. She took a quick turn to the right, shouldering into the girls lavatory. She dumped her books and purse by the sink, the contents of which scattered across the surface, and into the sink. She leant against her hands, looking into the mirror.
She was more pale than usual. She hated this. She was just stressed all the time, trapped in her own mind. She had no one to talk too, no one to be comforted by, no one to relieve some of her burdens. She burred her face in her hands. As her fingers parted, she saw some of her livelihoods in the sink. There was only one way to calm herself in these situations, and it was in front of her face, lying on top of her books. She straightened and looked left, right, and behind her. No one.
She moved over to the door quickly and shut it, then rummaged in her bag frantically. She brought out a small leather pouch, and flew into one of the cubicals, locking the door when she did. She knelt by the closed toilet, and opened the pouch. She retrieved a paper from the dispenser, and a filter from the plastic cylinder. She then opened her pack of tobacco. The smell wafted through the cubical. She scattered a thick amount across the paper. She rolled it expertly in her fingers. The final piece. She retrieved her filled grinder, and scattered a layer of marijuana over the tobacco. She licked the paper, and rolled it into a cone.
Minutes flew as thick white smoked escaped her lungs, and lingered in the cubical, and eventually escaped over the walls, and filled the bathroom with a light mist. She slumped against her hands and the wall of the cubical, not even noticing that all she was inhaling at this point was paper and filter. Her eyes closed themselves and she slowly leaned further to one side. She was almost asleep, but never quite there.
