weboftime | IC Inbox

He steps aside. "Of course."

There is a quick gesture to the corner. "Seems like one of the spiders has set up her web in the corner down there, so try to not disturb it."

He gestures to the chair and then sits on the edge of his cot. "I assume you want to talk about the breach?"

"Won't go near her," she reassures him, sitting down on the only chair and setting aside the cake. She's not hungry for it, but Henry might eat it later if she leaves it to tempt him.

"Wanted to check on you."

"Ah, well there's no need. As you can see, I'm fine."

He spreads out his hands a bit.

"You are not fucking fine. Nobody is after their first breach."

His eyes narrow, just briefly. The only sign that something is wrong.

"Well, I suppose that doesn't apply to me."

He's such a stubborn jackass.

"You're pretending to be fine. It's...fucking creepy, you know that, right?"

The mask slips again, though this time a bit more dramatically.

"Would you rather I throw a fit?"

"Yes!"

Because it'd be human of him. It'd be a normal reaction!

She gets to her feet. "Chrissakes, Henry, yes. Having any show of emotion is fucking normal."

His eyes flick up to her face. "And then what? What would that solve if I raged and yelled? It doesn't change what happened."

"Might feel better," she says, crossing her arms. "Healthier than pretending everything's fine anyways. Cuz I know it ain't. It never is when you've had your mind fucked with."

He narrows his eyes again, but this time, the look lingers. "And what would you know about that?"

She snorts softly. "What? Having my mind fucked with? Some experiences are more universal than you'd fucking think."

He leans forward. "How?"

She won't let him into her mind, so he has to do this the old fashioned way.

Asking.

Trixie chews on the inside of her mouth a little, looking away from him as she considers how truthful she wants to be. She'd guessed this was going to be part of being a warden, being transparent to one's inmate about certain things, but it unsettles her to tell him her weaknesses.

"Since I was little," she tells him, finally sitting back down. "Was just a girl when I was bought by my first pimp."

"What's a pimp?"

He leans forward, interested but wanting to know all the pieces.

Right, of course he doesn't know what a pimp is.

"Man who sells sex," she tells him, trying to keep it as simple as she can. "He...manages women, employs 'em, sets the prices and moves the girls like goods. Mine came to my orphanage in Chicago and bought a bunch of us -- don't have to tell you it wasn't a normal orphanage. Owner was constantly looking to make a buck."

He can put pieces together and the thought of it makes him ill. Humans are more monsterous than he knew. "Did you get out?"

"Yeah," she says quietly. "Sorta. I killed myself."

He nods once. "That's a sort of freedom. Taking the way out that you wanted."

"It was, in a way."

She reaches into one of her skirt pockets. "Mind if I smoke in here?"

He glances around. "If you open the door."

The doctors smoked. The guards smoked. He doesn't mind it.

...He smoked in the breach. He tries not to think about that.

"Thanks."

She props open the door and brings her chair close to it so she can blow the smoke out into the hallway. Her match gets struck along the door jamb and she lights up, taking a careful drag and letting the nicotine soothe her nerves.

"Had a choice, either I go to New York City with a rich widow's money and an orphan girl we found outside of camp, or I go back to my pimp and he beats the hell out of me. I didn't belong in the city, but working at the brothel was Hell on Earth some days."

Henry leans back on the cot, his back against the wall. "Do you regret it?"

"I regret leaving things the way I did," she nods, taking another drag. "But I don't regret that it brought me here."

He looks away. "Because you made friends and found true love?" he sneers.

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

Re: Post-breach

cw suicide

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject