Cracks 1.8
Z488411
Scatterbrained
- Location
- Europa
Cracks 1.8
[x] I would finally go back home. Grab some clothes and a few more things. It hurt but I needed to wash again and I didn't need to take everything. Just a little. And maybe I could test a few things in the basement.
Faint colours, words I couldn't understand, and the last few flashes of images slipped away when I woke. Blinking against the sun. I was just breathing for now, waiting for things to make sense again and enjoying the few moments in which they didn't. My contentment had faded away again, just like last time, but I didn't feel hungry yet. The sleepiness had faded completely and even if I wanted to fall back asleep I probably wouldn't have been able to manage it. So I blinked at the ceiling for a few moments and then reached for my glasses. I' been pretty shocked to see they at least made it through the crash with only some scratches on the glass. Not enough reason to replace them.
Although somehow the world with glasses had become slightly blurrier. I didn't think they were that dirty, but I supposed I would have to take care of that before I went out. The alarm clock on my bedside table told me it was already past nine. Twelve hours. I'd managed to sleep for a full twelve hours again and had no idea how. I really hoped I would find a way around that problem before I had to go back to school.
And to make matters worse, no matter how long I spent trying to polish my glasses, things weren't going back to quite the same sharp images I was used to. They got a bit better, but that was about it and seemed to come with time rather than anything I could do for my glasses. I was just lucky it wasn't bad enough to be anywhere near blind, I just had a lot of problems seeing things at a distance now. Close by was less of an issue…
I should probably look into that at some point. After a shower and some normal breakfast. Even if it seemed slightly silly considering my new eating habits. I had no idea whether it mattered if I had breakfast or not. My hunger was rising much slower than normal, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with bacon and eggs and it at least made me feel human. Even if I couldn't buy enough of it to satisfy my powers.
While I thought about it, I should probably think about nutrition too. What did my powers want me to eat? How was I supposed to be able to tell? I was guessing that tasty things were probably not poisonous but I had no idea. Powers didn't generally try to kill their owners, right? I had absolutely no clue how resistant to poisoning I was now, but I was really hoping my powers knew what they were doing. The PRT Pamphlet and PHO said that capes would have power related urges so I supposed it would probably be fine, but I couldn't help being a bit nervous about it anyway. Whenever I wasn't hungry at least.
I'd always thought getting powers would make things different. That I would be a hero and fly out to save people, somehow be someone different. And maybe I had thought about Emma, everyone looking up to me too. But I didn't. I had new urges I felt somehow different, but nothing else had changed. I didn't even really want to look at the heroes right now. Some part of me might understand why, logically, but it didn't change anything about Dad.
Some part of me wished the asshole running a red light had survived the experience, just to give me some bit of satisfaction to see him suffer. But I supposed he had done an incredible job at committing suicide.
And I had some nice breakfast now. Although it was odd how my definition of 'crispy' and 'crunchy' had somewhat changed, I could definitely still enjoy normal food anyway.
Maybe I was procrastinating too. I would go home again and my house would be empty, just my house now. But, I hoped, it would also still be home and it wasn't as if I was leaving or would never come back. I didn't think I could ever sell it even if I were legally allowed to. Going home would be good, wouldn't it? It would take me away from researching powers…. But it would also be empty.
I just had to get over myself. I couldn't keep avoiding as much as I might want to. I did want to go home, it wasn't a bad place and maybe some part of Mom and Dad was still left there. I just had to clean my dishes, put on my jacket, grab the scarf and go. I might not feel particularly cold anymore, at least my hands hadn't, but I also didn't feel like drawing attention to myself. Even imaginary attention. Not as I was now anyway. The less chance I had of anyone trying to talk to me the better, right now anyway. I slung a bag over my shoulder.
In the end I walked for much longer than I had intended or maybe I ran. As fast as I could go, until I could feel the pain in every breath. Trying to push myself forward faster, still hurt, I still felt so slow even if I was sprinting faster than I probably ever had before and even if the pain in my lungs never got worse than a bit of a sting. Breathing through my mouth but never actually becoming out of breath. I had no idea whether I would need to eat again any more quickly this way, but I didn't really care right now. I was skipping an entire stretch of bus route and Probably would be there half an hour later than I could have been, but when I finally made it up the street, I felt alive.
Walking up those all too familiar steps, skipping over the rotten one and turning the key in the lock.
Then I was home.
Everything still smelled the same, everything was still the way Mom had arranged it, the same pictures on the wall. No one had entered. No one had come here but me. I had to stand for a few minutes just to breathe in. Expecting Dad to come around a corner every minute now, even if it was morning and much too early for him to be home from work. Closing the door behind myself and walking inside, I felt like I was half dreaming. Walking somewhere sacred I didn't dare to disturb, looking at every piece of furniture and every scratch in the table as if I would never come back.
This is how it would stay. How I wanted it to always look, with everything still haphazardly strewn across the kitchen table, with the TV remote on the couch and a laundry basket next to the stairs.
How I wanted it to stay.
I had no idea when my face started feeling wet. Running my hand over the couch, looking at the clean laundry still not folded but already dry. Taking the scent in with every breath maybe more vibrant than it had ever been before. I couldn't be sure. Maybe I had just never really noticed. I was leaning against the wall.
The keening noise made me finally collapse. My keening noise. My eyes starting to force themselves shut. It just felt so heavy. So empty and so very much not. I could still smell Dad. Try to tell myself I could just wait and Dad would come back home and we would start talking again, but it wasn't working. It didn't matter how close he felt. How close Mom felt here, like I could just reach out. It didn't. No matter how much I wished it did, no matter how I could vaguely hear the fridge humming from the kitchen and see warm everything still felt and could see Dad's laundry in the basket.
He wouldn't come back.
Home would never be the same again. The utilities would have to be turned off and the warmth would go away. No matter where I went, there was just no point in having two houses. In leaving it on and just stand empty at least until winter. Until now. When I at least had some excuse of not wanting the pipes to burst and make everything rot away.
But it didn't matter. It didn't matter if I kept the house as some stupid memento, they wouldn't come back. And this was the only thing I had left. Empty and fading and probably warm for the last time in a long time.
I couldn't bring myself to look at the pictures or care about the tears hitting the floor now or sinking into my sleeves. I didn't even really feel cold anymore. Just so empty.
I had no idea how long I spent on the floor. I didn't even know hope I got there or Why this of all things suddenly made me gasp for breath. I didn't want to get up. The floor was still warm. Still smelled like home, still good. The wood felt good against my face, wet but good, and if I could I would have tried to pull it even closer. Everything was wet now but I still didn't care. If I weren't so awake I probably would just have slept.
The pain wouldn't go away, I couldn't escape, I couldn't run , I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't even end everything. Mom and Dad would never have wanted me to, but they weren't here anymore. I just still couldn't give up. For some stupid reason that part of me was still refusing like it wasn't even a real option! Because I was still alive even if I had no idea what I would even live for.
What I would do.
I didn't feel like much of a hero. I didn't feel like much of anything really.
But some stupid part of me still thought I was better. And maybe it was right. I had powers. I had no idea how they worked or what was up with the food, but I had powers and I could do something and I refused to give up. I would have liked to think that Mom and Dad would have been proud of me. Would be proud of me at some point.
I just had to figure out how to be a Hero.
Which meant closing my eyes and getting off the floor. There were things I needed to pick up. Clothes, toiletries. I would have to empty the fridge. Turn down the heaters until they were set to only just high enough not to let the pipes freeze over. Take care of everything that would spoil. Take care of the garden and the lawn and make sure the Gangs knew it wasn't abandoned. Would never be abandoned. I would take my school supplies too. Just put them all into my schoolbag and started going through my drawers.
The determination helped. Knowing what I was going to do helped.
Even if every bit of Dad's favourite mustard I ate reminded me of him, it had to go. As did our bacon, the pickles, jam… everything inside our small freezer. And I was eating all of it. Cooking what needed to be cooked as much like Mom would have done as I could manage. But I ate the plastics containers too. And the paper and the glass and what little metal there was as well. They just added more flavour. And I kept eating even when I stated getting close to being full, I still had to keep going. Even when I felt more than just full. It had to go. And it was like a ritual, taking care of things.
Making sure everything was where it was supposed to be. Cleaning up after myself. Unplugging the fridge because I knew it would just cost more money I didn't have or may well need for something else if I got any assistance from the PRT. I knew I would be coming back. I would have to come back, be it to explore and see what was hidden away in the basement or the attic or to take care of things or just to be here, but I would be coming back. And I also felt overstuffed, felt that there was too much material and my power was having trouble processing it all, but I had to.
Just like I had to pack my bags and just like I would have to make a decision soon enough.
Maybe I would even come back to see whether anything in the basement was tasty, we had so much scrap, just broken electronics down there,m not to mention anything Dad had needed for some building project he never got around to, gardening tools, anything that wouldn't fit upstairs and was rarely ever needed. I didn't think Dad had touched the grill in over a year. But for now I should go.
I would:
[ ] Go back to Kurt and Lacey's and try to make dinner.
[ ] Go back to Kurt and Lacey's and go for a walk until they get back.
[ ] Go back to Kurt and Lacey's and give in to my urge to sleep. I had no idea what delaying it too much would do. (Dinner conversations becomes moved to morning)
[ ] Take the long way, your bags are a bit unwieldy but they don't really weigh much to you.
[ ] Stay at the house and… (write in)
Once I was back, I would see where after dinner conversation would take us but maybe I should start talking about a few of those things now, even if it would hurt.
[ ] Alan Barnes and what to do about this situation
[ ] The PRT and how to deal with power testing or whether I should go at all and what to do afterwards.
Hunger: 120/100
Humanity: 70/100
(options not chosen can probably be taken again at some later point, you can start giving me suggestions for interludes and I hope the next posts will be much less depressing, but this needed to be gotten out of the way.)
[x] I would finally go back home. Grab some clothes and a few more things. It hurt but I needed to wash again and I didn't need to take everything. Just a little. And maybe I could test a few things in the basement.
Faint colours, words I couldn't understand, and the last few flashes of images slipped away when I woke. Blinking against the sun. I was just breathing for now, waiting for things to make sense again and enjoying the few moments in which they didn't. My contentment had faded away again, just like last time, but I didn't feel hungry yet. The sleepiness had faded completely and even if I wanted to fall back asleep I probably wouldn't have been able to manage it. So I blinked at the ceiling for a few moments and then reached for my glasses. I' been pretty shocked to see they at least made it through the crash with only some scratches on the glass. Not enough reason to replace them.
Although somehow the world with glasses had become slightly blurrier. I didn't think they were that dirty, but I supposed I would have to take care of that before I went out. The alarm clock on my bedside table told me it was already past nine. Twelve hours. I'd managed to sleep for a full twelve hours again and had no idea how. I really hoped I would find a way around that problem before I had to go back to school.
And to make matters worse, no matter how long I spent trying to polish my glasses, things weren't going back to quite the same sharp images I was used to. They got a bit better, but that was about it and seemed to come with time rather than anything I could do for my glasses. I was just lucky it wasn't bad enough to be anywhere near blind, I just had a lot of problems seeing things at a distance now. Close by was less of an issue…
I should probably look into that at some point. After a shower and some normal breakfast. Even if it seemed slightly silly considering my new eating habits. I had no idea whether it mattered if I had breakfast or not. My hunger was rising much slower than normal, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with bacon and eggs and it at least made me feel human. Even if I couldn't buy enough of it to satisfy my powers.
While I thought about it, I should probably think about nutrition too. What did my powers want me to eat? How was I supposed to be able to tell? I was guessing that tasty things were probably not poisonous but I had no idea. Powers didn't generally try to kill their owners, right? I had absolutely no clue how resistant to poisoning I was now, but I was really hoping my powers knew what they were doing. The PRT Pamphlet and PHO said that capes would have power related urges so I supposed it would probably be fine, but I couldn't help being a bit nervous about it anyway. Whenever I wasn't hungry at least.
I'd always thought getting powers would make things different. That I would be a hero and fly out to save people, somehow be someone different. And maybe I had thought about Emma, everyone looking up to me too. But I didn't. I had new urges I felt somehow different, but nothing else had changed. I didn't even really want to look at the heroes right now. Some part of me might understand why, logically, but it didn't change anything about Dad.
Some part of me wished the asshole running a red light had survived the experience, just to give me some bit of satisfaction to see him suffer. But I supposed he had done an incredible job at committing suicide.
And I had some nice breakfast now. Although it was odd how my definition of 'crispy' and 'crunchy' had somewhat changed, I could definitely still enjoy normal food anyway.
Maybe I was procrastinating too. I would go home again and my house would be empty, just my house now. But, I hoped, it would also still be home and it wasn't as if I was leaving or would never come back. I didn't think I could ever sell it even if I were legally allowed to. Going home would be good, wouldn't it? It would take me away from researching powers…. But it would also be empty.
I just had to get over myself. I couldn't keep avoiding as much as I might want to. I did want to go home, it wasn't a bad place and maybe some part of Mom and Dad was still left there. I just had to clean my dishes, put on my jacket, grab the scarf and go. I might not feel particularly cold anymore, at least my hands hadn't, but I also didn't feel like drawing attention to myself. Even imaginary attention. Not as I was now anyway. The less chance I had of anyone trying to talk to me the better, right now anyway. I slung a bag over my shoulder.
In the end I walked for much longer than I had intended or maybe I ran. As fast as I could go, until I could feel the pain in every breath. Trying to push myself forward faster, still hurt, I still felt so slow even if I was sprinting faster than I probably ever had before and even if the pain in my lungs never got worse than a bit of a sting. Breathing through my mouth but never actually becoming out of breath. I had no idea whether I would need to eat again any more quickly this way, but I didn't really care right now. I was skipping an entire stretch of bus route and Probably would be there half an hour later than I could have been, but when I finally made it up the street, I felt alive.
Walking up those all too familiar steps, skipping over the rotten one and turning the key in the lock.
Then I was home.
Everything still smelled the same, everything was still the way Mom had arranged it, the same pictures on the wall. No one had entered. No one had come here but me. I had to stand for a few minutes just to breathe in. Expecting Dad to come around a corner every minute now, even if it was morning and much too early for him to be home from work. Closing the door behind myself and walking inside, I felt like I was half dreaming. Walking somewhere sacred I didn't dare to disturb, looking at every piece of furniture and every scratch in the table as if I would never come back.
This is how it would stay. How I wanted it to always look, with everything still haphazardly strewn across the kitchen table, with the TV remote on the couch and a laundry basket next to the stairs.
How I wanted it to stay.
I had no idea when my face started feeling wet. Running my hand over the couch, looking at the clean laundry still not folded but already dry. Taking the scent in with every breath maybe more vibrant than it had ever been before. I couldn't be sure. Maybe I had just never really noticed. I was leaning against the wall.
The keening noise made me finally collapse. My keening noise. My eyes starting to force themselves shut. It just felt so heavy. So empty and so very much not. I could still smell Dad. Try to tell myself I could just wait and Dad would come back home and we would start talking again, but it wasn't working. It didn't matter how close he felt. How close Mom felt here, like I could just reach out. It didn't. No matter how much I wished it did, no matter how I could vaguely hear the fridge humming from the kitchen and see warm everything still felt and could see Dad's laundry in the basket.
He wouldn't come back.
Home would never be the same again. The utilities would have to be turned off and the warmth would go away. No matter where I went, there was just no point in having two houses. In leaving it on and just stand empty at least until winter. Until now. When I at least had some excuse of not wanting the pipes to burst and make everything rot away.
But it didn't matter. It didn't matter if I kept the house as some stupid memento, they wouldn't come back. And this was the only thing I had left. Empty and fading and probably warm for the last time in a long time.
I couldn't bring myself to look at the pictures or care about the tears hitting the floor now or sinking into my sleeves. I didn't even really feel cold anymore. Just so empty.
I had no idea how long I spent on the floor. I didn't even know hope I got there or Why this of all things suddenly made me gasp for breath. I didn't want to get up. The floor was still warm. Still smelled like home, still good. The wood felt good against my face, wet but good, and if I could I would have tried to pull it even closer. Everything was wet now but I still didn't care. If I weren't so awake I probably would just have slept.
The pain wouldn't go away, I couldn't escape, I couldn't run , I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't even end everything. Mom and Dad would never have wanted me to, but they weren't here anymore. I just still couldn't give up. For some stupid reason that part of me was still refusing like it wasn't even a real option! Because I was still alive even if I had no idea what I would even live for.
What I would do.
I didn't feel like much of a hero. I didn't feel like much of anything really.
But some stupid part of me still thought I was better. And maybe it was right. I had powers. I had no idea how they worked or what was up with the food, but I had powers and I could do something and I refused to give up. I would have liked to think that Mom and Dad would have been proud of me. Would be proud of me at some point.
I just had to figure out how to be a Hero.
Which meant closing my eyes and getting off the floor. There were things I needed to pick up. Clothes, toiletries. I would have to empty the fridge. Turn down the heaters until they were set to only just high enough not to let the pipes freeze over. Take care of everything that would spoil. Take care of the garden and the lawn and make sure the Gangs knew it wasn't abandoned. Would never be abandoned. I would take my school supplies too. Just put them all into my schoolbag and started going through my drawers.
The determination helped. Knowing what I was going to do helped.
Even if every bit of Dad's favourite mustard I ate reminded me of him, it had to go. As did our bacon, the pickles, jam… everything inside our small freezer. And I was eating all of it. Cooking what needed to be cooked as much like Mom would have done as I could manage. But I ate the plastics containers too. And the paper and the glass and what little metal there was as well. They just added more flavour. And I kept eating even when I stated getting close to being full, I still had to keep going. Even when I felt more than just full. It had to go. And it was like a ritual, taking care of things.
Making sure everything was where it was supposed to be. Cleaning up after myself. Unplugging the fridge because I knew it would just cost more money I didn't have or may well need for something else if I got any assistance from the PRT. I knew I would be coming back. I would have to come back, be it to explore and see what was hidden away in the basement or the attic or to take care of things or just to be here, but I would be coming back. And I also felt overstuffed, felt that there was too much material and my power was having trouble processing it all, but I had to.
Just like I had to pack my bags and just like I would have to make a decision soon enough.
Maybe I would even come back to see whether anything in the basement was tasty, we had so much scrap, just broken electronics down there,m not to mention anything Dad had needed for some building project he never got around to, gardening tools, anything that wouldn't fit upstairs and was rarely ever needed. I didn't think Dad had touched the grill in over a year. But for now I should go.
I would:
[ ] Go back to Kurt and Lacey's and try to make dinner.
[ ] Go back to Kurt and Lacey's and go for a walk until they get back.
[ ] Go back to Kurt and Lacey's and give in to my urge to sleep. I had no idea what delaying it too much would do. (Dinner conversations becomes moved to morning)
[ ] Take the long way, your bags are a bit unwieldy but they don't really weigh much to you.
[ ] Stay at the house and… (write in)
Once I was back, I would see where after dinner conversation would take us but maybe I should start talking about a few of those things now, even if it would hurt.
[ ] Alan Barnes and what to do about this situation
[ ] The PRT and how to deal with power testing or whether I should go at all and what to do afterwards.
Hunger: 120/100
Humanity: 70/100
(options not chosen can probably be taken again at some later point, you can start giving me suggestions for interludes and I hope the next posts will be much less depressing, but this needed to be gotten out of the way.)
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