Re: I'll Probably Get Homesick, I Love You, Goodnight
Posted: Sat Aug 15, 2020 8:39 am
The barrel of the rifle followed Darlene all the way to the ground. That she asked stung in a way Erika found difficult to place. She didn’t like being the person who got to dictate whether something like that was okay or not. Already Erika knew she was taking away everything this person was and could have been. It seemed so wrong to ever be that petty, to take away a simple comfort like that, too. No response came to the girl’s request besides a hint of a nod.
In spite of the gun against her head and the one pointed at her chest, Darlene was remarkably calm. It didn’t make sense. She knew what was happening and she just sat down. The shakiness in Darlene’s voice betrayed her fear, but the words she said made it clear fear wasn’t defining her last moments. She didn’t make a last-ditch attempt to save herself, didn’t go down clawing at anything within reach. Didn’t condemn Erika for what she was doing, or try to turn her away from it.
Once again Erika found herself standing over someone, but it didn’t feel like a victory this time. When it had, the feeling came from knowing she’d accepted a truth that kept her alive. It was a path that served a purpose. That was the difference between her and the corpses; she understood, they didn’t. She continued, and they would rot. Looking at Darlene, all Erika felt was the profound sensation that she’d missed something, that she hadn’t paid attention to some crucial detail, some piece of information that would’ve let her be anything other than what she’d chosen to become.
Then Darlene complimented her hair, and Erika wasn’t sure whether she was going to burst into tears or instinctively squeeze the trigger.
“Oh. Uhh, thanks. I…”
After an unsteady moment, she found the strength to do neither. Blinking the hints of moisture from the corners of her eyes, she took a deep breath and found the voice that could answer Darlene’s question. While her voice and gun hand were steady, her free hand tapped the collar radar nervously against the side of her leg.
“I got rid of them because they were in the way, I guess. I fidget a lot and so making them felt like a good way to calm my nerves. Made me feel like me, too! I have a hard time with that. The charms were things I collected, things that had memories in them. They were… good memories, I think. They helped me know who I was. So, I left the charms in the woods. Only took what I had to take with me."
Back then it felt like shedding a humanity that was going to weigh her down. It seemed to make intuitive sense to give up herself in order to save it. It was a path that she understood. Now more than anything, it made her feel lost.
"If I’d have known just how things would’ve ended up, maybe I’d still wear ‘em. But from where we're standing, that stuff might as well be on the moon.”
The reason why Darlene even asked the question seemed difficult to comprehend. The fact that she was able to do so calmly, like they weren’t in this situation, like she was comfortable with her fate - it seemed surreal. Erika wanted desperately to understand it, but it felt like her ability to do so was left in that pile of jewelry and charms and hairbands.
Erika looked down into unfamiliar eyes, hoping to see the humanity in them. She wanted to feel that painful tearing feeling in her chest, the subconscious imitation of the pain and sadness she perceived.
The way emotions of one person subconsciously seemed to mirror those of another – it was the reason society didn’t operate on the same rules as this place did. It was why Danya and his organization, if they meant anything by the title of their operation, were wrong in their assumptions about people. They needed the collars because those assumptions they must’ve made about people didn’t really hold up.
Yet Erika didn’t feel anything other than confusion and melancholy. Something felt missing. Like there was a blank space where some part of her used to be. She’d broken it down, consumed it to keep going. It made her nauseated and paralyzed with fear to even try and approximate it. Like a kind of rot she hadn’t yet acclimated to.
She spoke again, the barrel of the Martini-Henry wavering ever so slightly as she did so.
“I don’t understand this. You. I can’t imagine what you see right now. I’m not like you.”
In spite of the gun against her head and the one pointed at her chest, Darlene was remarkably calm. It didn’t make sense. She knew what was happening and she just sat down. The shakiness in Darlene’s voice betrayed her fear, but the words she said made it clear fear wasn’t defining her last moments. She didn’t make a last-ditch attempt to save herself, didn’t go down clawing at anything within reach. Didn’t condemn Erika for what she was doing, or try to turn her away from it.
Once again Erika found herself standing over someone, but it didn’t feel like a victory this time. When it had, the feeling came from knowing she’d accepted a truth that kept her alive. It was a path that served a purpose. That was the difference between her and the corpses; she understood, they didn’t. She continued, and they would rot. Looking at Darlene, all Erika felt was the profound sensation that she’d missed something, that she hadn’t paid attention to some crucial detail, some piece of information that would’ve let her be anything other than what she’d chosen to become.
Then Darlene complimented her hair, and Erika wasn’t sure whether she was going to burst into tears or instinctively squeeze the trigger.
“Oh. Uhh, thanks. I…”
After an unsteady moment, she found the strength to do neither. Blinking the hints of moisture from the corners of her eyes, she took a deep breath and found the voice that could answer Darlene’s question. While her voice and gun hand were steady, her free hand tapped the collar radar nervously against the side of her leg.
“I got rid of them because they were in the way, I guess. I fidget a lot and so making them felt like a good way to calm my nerves. Made me feel like me, too! I have a hard time with that. The charms were things I collected, things that had memories in them. They were… good memories, I think. They helped me know who I was. So, I left the charms in the woods. Only took what I had to take with me."
Back then it felt like shedding a humanity that was going to weigh her down. It seemed to make intuitive sense to give up herself in order to save it. It was a path that she understood. Now more than anything, it made her feel lost.
"If I’d have known just how things would’ve ended up, maybe I’d still wear ‘em. But from where we're standing, that stuff might as well be on the moon.”
The reason why Darlene even asked the question seemed difficult to comprehend. The fact that she was able to do so calmly, like they weren’t in this situation, like she was comfortable with her fate - it seemed surreal. Erika wanted desperately to understand it, but it felt like her ability to do so was left in that pile of jewelry and charms and hairbands.
Erika looked down into unfamiliar eyes, hoping to see the humanity in them. She wanted to feel that painful tearing feeling in her chest, the subconscious imitation of the pain and sadness she perceived.
The way emotions of one person subconsciously seemed to mirror those of another – it was the reason society didn’t operate on the same rules as this place did. It was why Danya and his organization, if they meant anything by the title of their operation, were wrong in their assumptions about people. They needed the collars because those assumptions they must’ve made about people didn’t really hold up.
Yet Erika didn’t feel anything other than confusion and melancholy. Something felt missing. Like there was a blank space where some part of her used to be. She’d broken it down, consumed it to keep going. It made her nauseated and paralyzed with fear to even try and approximate it. Like a kind of rot she hadn’t yet acclimated to.
She spoke again, the barrel of the Martini-Henry wavering ever so slightly as she did so.
“I don’t understand this. You. I can’t imagine what you see right now. I’m not like you.”