Chapter Text
Rose thrashed in the inky black water, desperately trying to stay afloat. She could barely keep her head above water and every other second had her halfway submerged, leaving her gasping for breath. Her raspy breaths were intermingled with hacking coughs, her body instinctively trying to keep water out of her lungs but in doing so depriving her of precious air. Then, out of the corner of her eye: land! A beacon of shining white light pushing back the all-consuming darkness of the water around her. As she turned to swim for it, something brushed her ankle--wrapped--pulled--
You sit up, chest pounding, barely able to breathe. You reach for your heart to see how fast it's beating, to see if it’s beating at all--
thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump
Yep. Still going, albeit faster than you would like. You take a moment to steady your breathing, then lurch out of bed lest you fall victim to the urge to sleep more.
A glance at the clock beside your bed tells you three things: a) it’s 4 in the fucking morning (Actually, 4:13 in the fucking morning, Dave would correct you) b) you didn’t even set your alarm, and c) it’s Wednesday, which means you have a day off tomorrow. Thank god.
Well, no going back to sleep now. There are a few things you suppose you could do to pass the time, of which you will do one. You pad into the kitchen and turn on the coffee machine. Part one accomplished. Then, you turn towards the liquor cabinet. Just a splash in your morning coffee! And a swig or two while you wait. You grab out the cheap brandy, but pause. You gaze longingly at the other empty space in the cabinet--oh how wonderfully a nice bottle of wine would go there-- no. No wine, you promised yourself. And no good spirits, either. You promised yourself a long, long time ago you would never end up like her. A whole room….. No! Snap out of it, Lalonde! One cabinet, cheap stuff, no wine. Those are the rules.
Maybe an extra shot in the coffee, this morning.
You place the bottle on the table and stride to your bedroom. You open your closet and look inside. Black suit jacket, black suit jacket, black suit jacket. You really need new clothes. Sighing, you pull out your uniform. There’s not really a dress code, but you wear the same thing everyday anyway so you’ve taken to calling it that. The aforementioned jacket, a purple shirt, and a black pencil skirt. When the whistle signifying finished coffee sounds, you exit the bedroom, grab your cuppa, pour some in, and fill your flask. Fine leather, titanium beveled cap with an engraved monogram, has this funny little design on the front. Very nice. Very pretty, you've been told. You don’t care. It’s high capacity and you can bring it anywhere. (You suppose you’re a little attached to the insignia.)
You take a sip from your thermos-- ah, delicious. You slip on your cherished purple converse. They're the only part of your ensemble that's at all disheveled, but you're deeply attached to them. A gift from a friend, you say. Plus they're more comfortable than a therapist's couch. You should know. You've been on quite a few, thanks to your ever so concerned mother. You pick up your keys, turn out the lights, and swiftly exit.
Out the door, down the stairs, pause-- was that red stain always there? You know what Dave would have said. I warned you about the stairs bro!! I warned you! You chuckle, then your face falls. You should have seen that joke for what it was, before…
You get to work with no memory of how you got there, as per usual. The joys of unremarkable commuting. You know why you can’t remember this time, though. Never fun to be reminded of your brother’s death.