She knows that there's another little hole in her heart
Jag är sliten - jag vill skriva, men jag ska till affären och köpa morötter och vitlöksdip. Fredagssnacks.
Det gör ont inombords. Aj. Aj. Aj. Det krävs så lite för att tända ångestflamman.
En promenad, sen skriver jag mer.
Mår bättre, har morötter och cola och vitlöksdip och ska se på 28 days later med Joe.
Okej, vi såg inte på 28 days later utan övertalade pappa att bränna CSI säsong 6 istället, så vi såg på den.
Klockan är nu 02:40 och jag vet inte vad jag ska göra. Jag vill sova, men jag vågar nästan inte lägga mig i sängen. Den är så stor, så tom. Har suttit och skrivit i en och en halv timme, så även om jag inte skrev på bloggen så skrev jag. Bara mycket kreativare saker.
Har inte haft social kontakt med en utomstående människa (dvs inte jobb eller familj) sen i måndags. Imorgon ska jag ut och bowla med jobbet och på söndag ska jag och Ish se Watchmen of fangirla oss som vi gör när vi ser på nördfilm.
Jag vet inte riktigt. Det finns en tomhet som jag försöker fylla upp, men det går inte så bra.
Någon snygg knarkarkille som är intresserad? Haha. Internal joke.
Istället för att jag ska babbla på (vad är babbla när man skriver?) läs det jag har spenderat de senaste timmarna på. Eller, den delen av det som är färdig.
Moonlight shone in through the window in the office. Her office. It felt so odd, thinking that. Alex swept back her curtain of red hair, leaning against the window. She couldn’t sleep, too many thoughts occupying her mind. She could use a drink right now.
“Can‘t believe I‘m back in New York,” she mumbled to herself. Back in New York for the first time in five years. For the first time in her life, she was also in a position of power - being newly appointed as a Team Leader for the New York division of the organization known from the inside as the Hunters. She had served for the past 15 months in the Los Angeles division, and been referred by her Team Leader and the Head of Operations to this post.
She couldn’t believe only two years ago she had been dancing around poles for drooling, droning, middle-aged men.
She walked over to the desk, unused and clean, only a few pieces of paper and one framed photo there. Picking up the photo, she studied it carefully - it showed a woman who looked only a few years older then her and a girl of three - her mother, Suzanne and her daughter, Jessica. Of course, the people here would never guess that was the way it was, that she, 23 years old, had a daughter of four and that the woman, who looked barely 30, was her mother. Sometimes, even Alex herself had trouble imagining it.
Sitting down, Alex let out a sigh. “What am I supposed to do?” she mumbled, pulling up her legs and feeling very much like a little girl right then. “Can‘t just sit here,” she muttered, closing her eyes. “But I‘m really not tired.”
The habit had come when she had gotten Jessica. Talking to herself. Back then, she had been talking to the baby of course, but she had gotten used to talking out loud and still did when she was alone.
Feeling too nervous to sit still, she stood up again, pushing back the red hair once more. She stood tall, straight-backed and proud, much taller than the average woman at 189 cm. Her body was slimmed and athletic; once upon a time, she had won nation-wide dancing competitions and had been near a professional career as a proper dancer. Now, her body was hardened by little over a year of hunting zombies, but she still retained the elegance of a dancer.
Pulling on a blue cardigan, she decided to head down to the shooting range. Target practice would always let her vent frustration, why not help her relax a little? Besides, it was always important to practice, and she hadn’t tried sniping in some time.
It took her some time to find her way, but she felt better moving around instead of staring at the traffic from the window in her office. “My office,” she said the words out loud to get a better feel of them. The words tasted weird in her mouth.
Eventually, she managed to find the shooting range, located well below ground level, just above the holding cells. William had explained most things to her, and she knew the shooting range was the zone of a man named Tony. She had been there a week (though this was her first night shift) and still hadn’t met the man. He was Head of Weapons Development and doubled as a TL when Cecil wasn’t available, but now he wouldn’t have to do that as much anymore since they had gotten funding for one more team. Alex’ team.
The shooting range was silent, but the familiar feeling of guns stayed in the walls. The first time Alex had held a gun, she had been twelve. One of their neighbors had decided, after Suzanne had broken up with a particularly creepy and stalker-ish man, that she needed extra protection. Suzanne had refused, saying she had no intent to ever use a gun, but a few days later Alex had visited the neighbor and said that she could take the gun. So she could protect her mom, she told him, and he had laughed, but then he had also told her that she was a good girl. They had gone to a forest not too far away, and he had shown her how to shoot and let her fire some shots.
She hadn’t used the gun at any other time but that, and it lay, unused, in her bedside drawer. When she had joined the hunters, she had gotten a license to carry a concealed weapon, and since then she always carried the standard Glock with her out of fear of a zombie outbreak. She had also learnt how to properly use heavier weapons, and even though it was fairly ineffective she loved using sniper rifles.
She found the gun storage and took her time, running her fingers over the guns to get the proper feel, lifting them and feeling them. She was well-trained in AK-47s and both automatic and semi-automatic weapons. She disliked shotguns because they were too messy. Handguns were great, but sometimes they lacked the proper force. Her absolute preference was staying behind at a safe and hidden location above an open space, aiming with a sniper or a hunting rifle and hitting everything in sight in the head.
Picking up a hunting rifle, she felt it in her arms, aiming it carefully, then headed out to the shooting range. Being alone in there, she opted not to take any protection. She leaned the rifle carefully against the edge and pulled off the cardigan. Other then that, she was wearing a black tank top with thick straps, cargo pants, and heavy boots. Since she was so new they had decided not to allow her field missions just yet, thus she was still in civilian clothes.
She picked up the rifle again and aimed at her target. This was a zen state, a state of calm and peace of mind, she had to be relaxed and in focus. She fired. She reloaded. She fired again. The sound of the gun shot pierced her mind, broke through her thoughts and shattered her anxiety.
Being so focused on her aim, she never heard his footsteps as he approached, wondering who was up at this hour. She didn’t notice when he stopped dead in his step, and as such couldn’t see his jaw drop from the sight.
Now, Tony wasn’t a man to be surprised, even less so to show it. But it was late, he hadn’t slept in many hours and she was just so damn beautiful. Dark, fiery red hair cascaded down her round shoulders, ending just above the slimmed waist. She was on one knee, face entirely focused on her aim, her defined jaw line set with determination, her eyes narrowed as she peered into the scope. The arm holding the rifle steady was elegantly muscled, the wrist thin and the hand steady.
He drew a breath as his eye wandered down, taking in the natural curves of the hair, then gazing over her body, framed by the plain tank she was wearing. Her back was straight, she wasn’t very curvy - he would assume her hips were more shaped from a straight-on view, but like this her… chest was shown, hinted behind the arm, and her lower body was generally hidden beneath the baggy combat-pants. Her skin was very pale, especially in contrast with the vivid hair.
Just as he managed to reattach his jaw, she stood up, stretching. She was nearly as tall as he was, unusually tall for a woman, and frankly she seemed like more of a model then someone who knew how to use guns. The way she held the rifle showed that she wasn’t just some wannabe either, she knew what she was doing. That made him very interested.
Alex turned around, her eyes widening from the surprise that someone was standing there, watching her, and she gasped, her heart jumping from fright. “Oh,” she said after a few seconds, straightening up and smiling. “I didn‘t see you there,” she walked forward, but her walk was so effortless he might nearly have called it floating, even though she was wearing heavy combat boots. She put the safety back on the rifle before hitching it over her shoulder by the strap, and stretching out a hand. “Alex Jones,” she said confidently. “And I guess you‘re Tony, uh, Congelati?”
He slowly stretched out his own hand, and they shook, her grip every bit as firm as his only very different. “Yeah,” he muttered, leaving it at that. They stood in silence for a while, before she turned back to check how she did on the shooting. The target had come back, and she had gotten within the inner circle on almost all her shots.
“You uh, you shoot good,” he said finally, pointing needlessly to the target. She smiled. “Thank you,” she said sweetly. Pale hand shot up to push back the mane of hair, which seemed to threaten to consume her thin shoulders. Tony looked a little confused. “When did you come here?”
She shrugged, still smiling politely, but there was a protective wall behind her green eyes. “Don‘t think I‘ve been down here long, thought everyone would be asleep by now.” He shook his head. “Not the shooting range. How long have you been at this office?” he sounded honestly confused.
Crossing her arms, she waited with her answer, taking the moment of silence to study him. He was taller then she, something not many managed, but only by about a decimeter, she guessed. His face was broad, square, his jaw line very strong. His eyes were warm, but guarded, his skin tanned, his hair dark. She couldn’t see what color because there weren’t many lights on. His neck was thick, his shoulders broad, huge, and even though the height difference wasn’t that pronounced he could have been towering over her. But he didn’t - introversion shone through his body language. Large, burly arms clung close to the thick chest, his arms crossed as hers. He wore a light-colored t-shirt that clung to his upper body, and it was hard for her not to notice just how muscular he had to be.
As he noticed that she was looking him over, his jaw tightened, nearly clenching. This surprised her, and she almost took a step back, but stopped herself before the impulse shot through her body enough to see it. It was like she was on his territory, an invader, a foreign object, one that both piqued his curiosity and threatened his turf. Which in itself was a rather ridiculous thought and she almost laughed out loud, wondering where it had come from.
“I‘ve been here a few weeks,” she said carefully, smiling, trying to relax again. It might be paranoid, but large men did intimidate her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. The last few years before she had found the Hunters had put their trace on her, but even so, she shouldn’t judge this man in front of her. William was a very decent man, and he did not seem like the type of man who would hire jerks.
Surprise crossed his face again. Was it because he they hadn’t met before? It was very possible. He was hard to read, Alex realized and frowned slightly. Then she looked down, biting her cheek as she pretended that something else had caused her to frown.
“Well,” he said slowly, thinking hard on something. “I hope you‘ve been fitting in. I need to go again.” His voice broke into a mumble and he looked away, then shuffled back to what Alex could guess was an office, her eyes almost widened, confused. Who was this guy anyway? He seemed like such an outsider somehow. Not that it mattered, really. Big guy like him could only mean trouble.
She shrugged to herself, put the gun back in the storage and headed back to her own office to get a few hours of sleep.
I nästa del får hon skallbenet spräckt av ett basebollträ. Whoop.
(Låtar under tiden jag skrivit detta inlägg:
Scouting for Girls - Elvis ain't dead
Aqualung - Another little hole)
Det gör ont inombords. Aj. Aj. Aj. Det krävs så lite för att tända ångestflamman.
En promenad, sen skriver jag mer.
Mår bättre, har morötter och cola och vitlöksdip och ska se på 28 days later med Joe.
Okej, vi såg inte på 28 days later utan övertalade pappa att bränna CSI säsong 6 istället, så vi såg på den.
Klockan är nu 02:40 och jag vet inte vad jag ska göra. Jag vill sova, men jag vågar nästan inte lägga mig i sängen. Den är så stor, så tom. Har suttit och skrivit i en och en halv timme, så även om jag inte skrev på bloggen så skrev jag. Bara mycket kreativare saker.
Har inte haft social kontakt med en utomstående människa (dvs inte jobb eller familj) sen i måndags. Imorgon ska jag ut och bowla med jobbet och på söndag ska jag och Ish se Watchmen of fangirla oss som vi gör när vi ser på nördfilm.
Jag vet inte riktigt. Det finns en tomhet som jag försöker fylla upp, men det går inte så bra.
Någon snygg knarkarkille som är intresserad? Haha. Internal joke.
Istället för att jag ska babbla på (vad är babbla när man skriver?) läs det jag har spenderat de senaste timmarna på. Eller, den delen av det som är färdig.
Moonlight shone in through the window in the office. Her office. It felt so odd, thinking that. Alex swept back her curtain of red hair, leaning against the window. She couldn’t sleep, too many thoughts occupying her mind. She could use a drink right now.
“Can‘t believe I‘m back in New York,” she mumbled to herself. Back in New York for the first time in five years. For the first time in her life, she was also in a position of power - being newly appointed as a Team Leader for the New York division of the organization known from the inside as the Hunters. She had served for the past 15 months in the Los Angeles division, and been referred by her Team Leader and the Head of Operations to this post.
She couldn’t believe only two years ago she had been dancing around poles for drooling, droning, middle-aged men.
She walked over to the desk, unused and clean, only a few pieces of paper and one framed photo there. Picking up the photo, she studied it carefully - it showed a woman who looked only a few years older then her and a girl of three - her mother, Suzanne and her daughter, Jessica. Of course, the people here would never guess that was the way it was, that she, 23 years old, had a daughter of four and that the woman, who looked barely 30, was her mother. Sometimes, even Alex herself had trouble imagining it.
Sitting down, Alex let out a sigh. “What am I supposed to do?” she mumbled, pulling up her legs and feeling very much like a little girl right then. “Can‘t just sit here,” she muttered, closing her eyes. “But I‘m really not tired.”
The habit had come when she had gotten Jessica. Talking to herself. Back then, she had been talking to the baby of course, but she had gotten used to talking out loud and still did when she was alone.
Feeling too nervous to sit still, she stood up again, pushing back the red hair once more. She stood tall, straight-backed and proud, much taller than the average woman at 189 cm. Her body was slimmed and athletic; once upon a time, she had won nation-wide dancing competitions and had been near a professional career as a proper dancer. Now, her body was hardened by little over a year of hunting zombies, but she still retained the elegance of a dancer.
Pulling on a blue cardigan, she decided to head down to the shooting range. Target practice would always let her vent frustration, why not help her relax a little? Besides, it was always important to practice, and she hadn’t tried sniping in some time.
It took her some time to find her way, but she felt better moving around instead of staring at the traffic from the window in her office. “My office,” she said the words out loud to get a better feel of them. The words tasted weird in her mouth.
Eventually, she managed to find the shooting range, located well below ground level, just above the holding cells. William had explained most things to her, and she knew the shooting range was the zone of a man named Tony. She had been there a week (though this was her first night shift) and still hadn’t met the man. He was Head of Weapons Development and doubled as a TL when Cecil wasn’t available, but now he wouldn’t have to do that as much anymore since they had gotten funding for one more team. Alex’ team.
The shooting range was silent, but the familiar feeling of guns stayed in the walls. The first time Alex had held a gun, she had been twelve. One of their neighbors had decided, after Suzanne had broken up with a particularly creepy and stalker-ish man, that she needed extra protection. Suzanne had refused, saying she had no intent to ever use a gun, but a few days later Alex had visited the neighbor and said that she could take the gun. So she could protect her mom, she told him, and he had laughed, but then he had also told her that she was a good girl. They had gone to a forest not too far away, and he had shown her how to shoot and let her fire some shots.
She hadn’t used the gun at any other time but that, and it lay, unused, in her bedside drawer. When she had joined the hunters, she had gotten a license to carry a concealed weapon, and since then she always carried the standard Glock with her out of fear of a zombie outbreak. She had also learnt how to properly use heavier weapons, and even though it was fairly ineffective she loved using sniper rifles.
She found the gun storage and took her time, running her fingers over the guns to get the proper feel, lifting them and feeling them. She was well-trained in AK-47s and both automatic and semi-automatic weapons. She disliked shotguns because they were too messy. Handguns were great, but sometimes they lacked the proper force. Her absolute preference was staying behind at a safe and hidden location above an open space, aiming with a sniper or a hunting rifle and hitting everything in sight in the head.
Picking up a hunting rifle, she felt it in her arms, aiming it carefully, then headed out to the shooting range. Being alone in there, she opted not to take any protection. She leaned the rifle carefully against the edge and pulled off the cardigan. Other then that, she was wearing a black tank top with thick straps, cargo pants, and heavy boots. Since she was so new they had decided not to allow her field missions just yet, thus she was still in civilian clothes.
She picked up the rifle again and aimed at her target. This was a zen state, a state of calm and peace of mind, she had to be relaxed and in focus. She fired. She reloaded. She fired again. The sound of the gun shot pierced her mind, broke through her thoughts and shattered her anxiety.
Being so focused on her aim, she never heard his footsteps as he approached, wondering who was up at this hour. She didn’t notice when he stopped dead in his step, and as such couldn’t see his jaw drop from the sight.
Now, Tony wasn’t a man to be surprised, even less so to show it. But it was late, he hadn’t slept in many hours and she was just so damn beautiful. Dark, fiery red hair cascaded down her round shoulders, ending just above the slimmed waist. She was on one knee, face entirely focused on her aim, her defined jaw line set with determination, her eyes narrowed as she peered into the scope. The arm holding the rifle steady was elegantly muscled, the wrist thin and the hand steady.
He drew a breath as his eye wandered down, taking in the natural curves of the hair, then gazing over her body, framed by the plain tank she was wearing. Her back was straight, she wasn’t very curvy - he would assume her hips were more shaped from a straight-on view, but like this her… chest was shown, hinted behind the arm, and her lower body was generally hidden beneath the baggy combat-pants. Her skin was very pale, especially in contrast with the vivid hair.
Just as he managed to reattach his jaw, she stood up, stretching. She was nearly as tall as he was, unusually tall for a woman, and frankly she seemed like more of a model then someone who knew how to use guns. The way she held the rifle showed that she wasn’t just some wannabe either, she knew what she was doing. That made him very interested.
Alex turned around, her eyes widening from the surprise that someone was standing there, watching her, and she gasped, her heart jumping from fright. “Oh,” she said after a few seconds, straightening up and smiling. “I didn‘t see you there,” she walked forward, but her walk was so effortless he might nearly have called it floating, even though she was wearing heavy combat boots. She put the safety back on the rifle before hitching it over her shoulder by the strap, and stretching out a hand. “Alex Jones,” she said confidently. “And I guess you‘re Tony, uh, Congelati?”
He slowly stretched out his own hand, and they shook, her grip every bit as firm as his only very different. “Yeah,” he muttered, leaving it at that. They stood in silence for a while, before she turned back to check how she did on the shooting. The target had come back, and she had gotten within the inner circle on almost all her shots.
“You uh, you shoot good,” he said finally, pointing needlessly to the target. She smiled. “Thank you,” she said sweetly. Pale hand shot up to push back the mane of hair, which seemed to threaten to consume her thin shoulders. Tony looked a little confused. “When did you come here?”
She shrugged, still smiling politely, but there was a protective wall behind her green eyes. “Don‘t think I‘ve been down here long, thought everyone would be asleep by now.” He shook his head. “Not the shooting range. How long have you been at this office?” he sounded honestly confused.
Crossing her arms, she waited with her answer, taking the moment of silence to study him. He was taller then she, something not many managed, but only by about a decimeter, she guessed. His face was broad, square, his jaw line very strong. His eyes were warm, but guarded, his skin tanned, his hair dark. She couldn’t see what color because there weren’t many lights on. His neck was thick, his shoulders broad, huge, and even though the height difference wasn’t that pronounced he could have been towering over her. But he didn’t - introversion shone through his body language. Large, burly arms clung close to the thick chest, his arms crossed as hers. He wore a light-colored t-shirt that clung to his upper body, and it was hard for her not to notice just how muscular he had to be.
As he noticed that she was looking him over, his jaw tightened, nearly clenching. This surprised her, and she almost took a step back, but stopped herself before the impulse shot through her body enough to see it. It was like she was on his territory, an invader, a foreign object, one that both piqued his curiosity and threatened his turf. Which in itself was a rather ridiculous thought and she almost laughed out loud, wondering where it had come from.
“I‘ve been here a few weeks,” she said carefully, smiling, trying to relax again. It might be paranoid, but large men did intimidate her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. The last few years before she had found the Hunters had put their trace on her, but even so, she shouldn’t judge this man in front of her. William was a very decent man, and he did not seem like the type of man who would hire jerks.
Surprise crossed his face again. Was it because he they hadn’t met before? It was very possible. He was hard to read, Alex realized and frowned slightly. Then she looked down, biting her cheek as she pretended that something else had caused her to frown.
“Well,” he said slowly, thinking hard on something. “I hope you‘ve been fitting in. I need to go again.” His voice broke into a mumble and he looked away, then shuffled back to what Alex could guess was an office, her eyes almost widened, confused. Who was this guy anyway? He seemed like such an outsider somehow. Not that it mattered, really. Big guy like him could only mean trouble.
She shrugged to herself, put the gun back in the storage and headed back to her own office to get a few hours of sleep.
I nästa del får hon skallbenet spräckt av ett basebollträ. Whoop.
(Låtar under tiden jag skrivit detta inlägg:
Scouting for Girls - Elvis ain't dead
Aqualung - Another little hole)
Kommentarer
Postat av: Dorothea
basebollträ? ouch! den var bra, väldigt välskriven, vill läsa mer! Först verkade det bara handla om en vanlig tjej, och sen ba pang! zombies! oväntat, men kul :P
Har du några planer för den, eller e den bara skriven för ditt eget höga nöjes skull?
kram
Postat av: Zoftis
"Her absolute preference was staying behind at a safe and hidden location above an open space, aiming with a sniper or a hunting rifle and hitting everything in sight in the head."
Jag ser att någon har upptäckt min överlevanadsstrategi för Halo!
Seriously.
Haha, texten är underbar. Inga klagomål alls. Orden flyter så lätt och fint, som rinnande vatten.
En annan skriver ju mest kryptiska saker så det är skönt att veta att någon kan skriva ord som balsam.
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