Room 304, After Caritas
Apr. 11th, 2006 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chasingangelaTired but happy, Angela stumbled home after Caritas and typed a
Yawning, she shut down the laptop and changed into her pajamas. A few moments later, she was between the covers and sound asleep.
Angela was standing in the hallway of Liberty High, watching Delia Fischer walk toward her. Eyes skittering from side to side nervously, Delia seemed to be saying something in a voice slightly too soft for Angela to hear.
Then Angela realized it wasn't Delia at all; it was Parker. No, it was her mom. Catherine Parker. And she was smiling. Angela tried to go up to her, to warn her, but it was too late, she couldn't-
Marty stepped out of a locker and, suddenly, he and Catherine Parker were both very far away. Angela ran to him.
There was a loud noise; the snicker-BANG of gunfire. Catherine Parker collapsed, elegantly, blood blooming on her cream suit. Relaxed in death, her face looked even more like her daughter's.
A moment later, Angela realized Marty had been holding the gun.
"You didn't-" she said, crying, grabbing his lobster-patterned necktie. Catherine Parker's body bled at their feet. The blood soaked through Angela's shoes, scalding her feet.
He shook his head, eyes empty. Angela's heart stopped in fear. "It's my job," he told her. "It's what I have to do. It's not me."
"Of course it's you," Angela tried to say, but all that came out was a scream.
It was inside that dream that Angela crossed the line from 16 to 17.
Happy birthday.
From: emoredhead@hotmail.com
To: eggwhites@gmail.com
Subject: I'm tired.
...which is why this email is so short. Cameron Mitchell seems to have found a gremlin nest. He's being strange.
Remind me to tell you about Parker's mom when you get back.
And Nadia + Caritas = fun.
My birthday is tomorrow. I miss you, but we'll celebrate together for your birthday in June.
Love,
Angela
Yawning, she shut down the laptop and changed into her pajamas. A few moments later, she was between the covers and sound asleep.
Angela was standing in the hallway of Liberty High, watching Delia Fischer walk toward her. Eyes skittering from side to side nervously, Delia seemed to be saying something in a voice slightly too soft for Angela to hear.
Then Angela realized it wasn't Delia at all; it was Parker. No, it was her mom. Catherine Parker. And she was smiling. Angela tried to go up to her, to warn her, but it was too late, she couldn't-
Marty stepped out of a locker and, suddenly, he and Catherine Parker were both very far away. Angela ran to him.
There was a loud noise; the snicker-BANG of gunfire. Catherine Parker collapsed, elegantly, blood blooming on her cream suit. Relaxed in death, her face looked even more like her daughter's.
A moment later, Angela realized Marty had been holding the gun.
"You didn't-" she said, crying, grabbing his lobster-patterned necktie. Catherine Parker's body bled at their feet. The blood soaked through Angela's shoes, scalding her feet.
He shook his head, eyes empty. Angela's heart stopped in fear. "It's my job," he told her. "It's what I have to do. It's not me."
"Of course it's you," Angela tried to say, but all that came out was a scream.
It was inside that dream that Angela crossed the line from 16 to 17.
Happy birthday.
