[...Dear. Nill doesn't think badly of them at all-- she just hadn't realized how bad things here had gotten. She'd been so preoccupied with her own situation that she really hadn't been paying attention to anyone else, and maybe she should have.]
Not really. There's probably rotten take out or something, but most of the fridge..
[She goes over to it and opens it. Sodas line the racks.]
Methamphetamine users like to ingest alot of sugar. I like soda, but.. not this much. We'll need to recycle whichever are expired. Most likely the ones more towards the back of the fridge.
[She supposes that makes sense. Nill nods, and crouches down to peer into the fridge. So all the ones from the back... Nill starts taking cans out, and checking the expiration date maybe three cans in. Whenever they start getting close, they can take the front ones out, chuck the back ones, and put the others back in.]
[Lisbeth copies Nill's actions, putting the expired cans behind her so they can pour them down the drain. She's quiet for the entire thing, even her thoughts. Until she starts realizing just how many cans are in here. The only reason these were expired was because he constantly got a new case almost every day. Or asked her to pick one up on her way home from work.
She never argued with him. Not about the soda or the meth. She brought it up the one time and he got angry. Lisbeth usually stood her ground, but.. she loves him. She'd been so afraid of him breaking that love on his end that she put up with it.
..oh shit, Nill could hear all of this, couldn't she?]
[She can, but she doesn't acknowledge any of it. Not at first, anyway; she stays quiet while she pulls the cans out of the fridge, setting them behind her and the good ones in front of her.]
...It's not your fault. It's hard to do things when someone you love is addicted to something.
[Even though Lisbeth has been through hell and back with foster homes, institutionalization, and rape, her greatest fear was love - falling in and her significant other falling out of love with her.
Nill's words make her stomach churn as she picks up the expired cans and makes her way to the sink. She doesn't want to think about Jesse ever uttering those words to her.]
[Nill keeps pulling cans out of the fridge - though they're almost all out, and after a minute or two, she starts putting the good cans back in.]
Don't ever listen to him if he says it while he's high; or worse, if he's craving it. Tell him that if he means it, he can say it to you when he's himself, and that's the only way you'll leave him alone.
He might not appreciate it then-- no, he might never appreciate it. But he loves you, and if he can't say it when he's sober, then he doesn't mean it. Not really.
[And she tries her best to ignore those images; brief flashes of pain and loneliness, of terrifying places and awful threats. They do make her wings fold in closer to her back, though.]
[Normally Lisbeth isn't so open about her feelings. However, she's just so tired. He'd been in rehab for two days, but Lisbeth felt like she needed a week of constant sleep to catch up on all the nights she'd missed so she could keep an eye on him.
The situation made her do things she'd never normally do - like clean. But if she let it all go to shit, then the house would become more of a health hazard than anything else.
Still, she notices her moment of vulnerability and changes the subject.]
[It was hard to consider the world she came from her home - especially so when she couldn't even remember that place for almost two years. But her home didn't exist anymore either, hadn't for a long time. She could never go back there, either.]
[Nill pauses a little, wiping her hands on the hem of her skirt. Some of the cans had something sticky on them; probably a can that burst on them before they were stuffed in here.]
There were no seasons there. It was cold all the time-- maybe it was warm above-ground, but I never went there.
[After a brief moment of pause, Nill lets out a soft sigh, finally turning to Lisbeth. She grabs three cans, and sets them on top of each other, then taps the middle can with her finger. This is where she was, see?]
[Lisbeth furrows her brow as Nill demonstrates how her world was built. Then she brought up that one question that's been bothering her ever since she met her -]
[Nill taps the middle can again. Then her finger drifts down to tap the bottom can, as well.]
Only a few kinds of people live in the places that I've lived.
[She's not quite looking at Lisbeth, though. Instead she puts her finger between the top and middle cans, and pushes the tower over so that all three fall. They don't explode, thankfully, but Lisbeth probably shouldn't open those ones.
It isn't exactly that Nill wants to be truthful about it with Lisbeth. It's just that most people don't ask, and the ones that do probably wouldn't actually want to hear the answer. Lisbeth does, though, and she isn't the sort of person that needs to be protected from truths like this one.]
I don't know which memory is real. In one I was young, and they were pulled out. In the other, I was like this as long as I can remember. Maybe they took them when I was born.
People like me are meant to be less than human, and that's how they made sure we stayed that way.
[People like her.. Lisbeth's mind begins to race and it calls back to the conversation they'd had before over the Network. Nill had mentioned girls sold for sex and..
[Nill extends her wings, although she doesn't look at Lisbeth. She picks up the can that had been on the very bottom of the tower, holding it in her hand.]
People with qualities like mine, not slaves. They didn't want us to be more than human, so they made us less.
[Her fingers tighter around the can, and she lifts her head, before throwing the can into the garbage bin.]
...I was still human enough as far as they were concerned to be a slave too, though.
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Is everything in it bad?
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Not really. There's probably rotten take out or something, but most of the fridge..
[She goes over to it and opens it. Sodas line the racks.]
Methamphetamine users like to ingest alot of sugar. I like soda, but.. not this much. We'll need to recycle whichever are expired. Most likely the ones more towards the back of the fridge.
I only ate because Jesse lost his appetite.
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Would it be better if we got rid of all of them?
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No because then I'll have to buy some for myself.
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She never argued with him. Not about the soda or the meth. She brought it up the one time and he got angry. Lisbeth usually stood her ground, but.. she loves him. She'd been so afraid of him breaking that love on his end that she put up with it.
..oh shit, Nill could hear all of this, couldn't she?]
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...It's not your fault. It's hard to do things when someone you love is addicted to something.
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[She's never said it aloud to anyone else but Jesse.]
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Then you have to keep trying. He loves you too-- even if he says he doesn't, that's not true. It's just the drugs.
You have to be brave for you and for him, even if he can't be.
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Nill's words make her stomach churn as she picks up the expired cans and makes her way to the sink. She doesn't want to think about Jesse ever uttering those words to her.]
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Don't ever listen to him if he says it while he's high; or worse, if he's craving it. Tell him that if he means it, he can say it to you when he's himself, and that's the only way you'll leave him alone.
He might not appreciate it then-- no, he might never appreciate it. But he loves you, and if he can't say it when he's sober, then he doesn't mean it. Not really.
[And she tries her best to ignore those images; brief flashes of pain and loneliness, of terrifying places and awful threats. They do make her wings fold in closer to her back, though.]
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The situation made her do things she'd never normally do - like clean. But if she let it all go to shit, then the house would become more of a health hazard than anything else.
Still, she notices her moment of vulnerability and changes the subject.]
What was your home like?
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[It was hard to consider the world she came from her home - especially so when she couldn't even remember that place for almost two years. But her home didn't exist anymore either, hadn't for a long time. She could never go back there, either.]
The world I came from wasn't a nice place.
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Was it a futuristic place? Or what?
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[Nill pauses a little, wiping her hands on the hem of her skirt. Some of the cans had something sticky on them; probably a can that burst on them before they were stuffed in here.]
There were no seasons there. It was cold all the time-- maybe it was warm above-ground, but I never went there.
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It was underground? Why?
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I don't know why.
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Why can't you speak?
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Only a few kinds of people live in the places that I've lived.
[She's not quite looking at Lisbeth, though. Instead she puts her finger between the top and middle cans, and pushes the tower over so that all three fall. They don't explode, thankfully, but Lisbeth probably shouldn't open those ones.
It isn't exactly that Nill wants to be truthful about it with Lisbeth. It's just that most people don't ask, and the ones that do probably wouldn't actually want to hear the answer. Lisbeth does, though, and she isn't the sort of person that needs to be protected from truths like this one.]
I don't know which memory is real. In one I was young, and they were pulled out. In the other, I was like this as long as I can remember. Maybe they took them when I was born.
People like me are meant to be less than human, and that's how they made sure we stayed that way.
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Lisbeth felt her heart drop. No..]
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People with qualities like mine, not slaves. They didn't want us to be more than human, so they made us less.
[Her fingers tighter around the can, and she lifts her head, before throwing the can into the garbage bin.]
...I was still human enough as far as they were concerned to be a slave too, though.
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Are you an angel or were you just born with wings?
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[She spreads her wings out behind her, and glances back at them.]
I'm not sure which one should be "real". In one set of memories, I had them as long as I can remember. In the other, it was an experiment.
Either way, I'm no angel.
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We can talk about something else. I'm not the best conversationist, though.
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