Post by Deleted on Jan 12, 2015 10:18:25 GMT -5
She should have been asleep. She should have been doing paperwork. There were a thousand things that Charlie should have been doing. But she just didn't have the will power to do much of anything right now. She was on autopilot, doing everything just because it was what she was to do. A routine that she had done for years, everything about it was just automatic. Her heart wasn't even into the whole training thing. So she sat there and looked at he empty desk, the papers and files piled up in the out box, her inbox completely empty. She gave a sigh. She stood up and shoved her chair under her desk as she turned and threw another knife into the paper that was on the back of her door. It sunk in to the wood like a hot knife through butter. That letter had been there since September. Whenever things got too quiet, too alone, that's when everything seemed much worse than what it was.
Tears stung her eyes, rolling hot down her cheeks. She sniffed. Charlie hated crying. She hated it more than getting hurt. It was weakness. Total weakness. She had to be strong. She had to be a rock. War was nothing to her compared to this. Well war was something to her, she remembered when her mother died. Her grandfather dying shortly after, now her grandmother. She was alone. There was no one left. She didn't count her dad, he was always doing something more. She knew he liked Remus and Mattie and ken better. How couldn't he? They were stronger, more patient, more put together than she was. She didn't deserve this position, first cohort centurion. Then being rebuffed by Mors, what was she thinking? She still had one year left. But not being able to see him as often as she wanted, it made her jealous of Ronan and Zoe, of Josh and Rhiannon. Jealousy was weakness too. Seeing Chris and Marie, well she still cared for Chris very much, but they couldn't be together. She knew that.
Alone. The thought echoed through her mind. her hands went white as she grasped her circular shield. IT was made of reinforced oak, an iron reinforced ring around the wood and blue paint with a white bear's face painted on the front. When she had gotten the shield, she was still, well, she had a family. Frustrated, she picked up the shield, slamming it down on the desk in frustration. Charlie gave a gutteral growl as a few picture frames were knocked from their places of honor. The glass shattered as the frames hit the floor. Quickly she picked up the pictures, retrieving them from the floor. One of her and Chris, reminding her of their friendship. Another of her family, her mom, her grandpa, her grandma, it hurt to look at it. The final picture was of her and her father the day she got her promotion to centurion. Charlie knelt down to pick up the large shards of glass, spotting the broom in the corner that she would use to sweep up the smaller shards later. She gasped as she dropped the shard she was holding, it cut deeply into her hand that it crossed her palm with a crimson gash. It was deep too, she thought, judging by all the blood that was now dripping onto the floor.
Charlie stood up as she sniffed, trying to regain what little dignity she had. A cut this big was going to need stitches. She made her way towards the infirmary. The sky outside was pitch black, perforated by small dots in the sky, stars. Right now she hated it. Charlie hated everything. The sky, Mors, her mom, her dad, this stupid rock that was in her way. She kicked the rock aside, sending it sailing into the bushes. She had also felt as if she had felt some personal injustice by the infirmary door. She yanked it open, though if she had any real strength, it would have been pulled off of it's hinges. But it wasn't. Just another testament to the fact she was weak. Her face went pale as she continued to loose blood, it dripped down her fingers, warm and wet.
"I need stitches." She said grouchily to whomever was on duty at the front desk. Charlie's face drew into a frown as she waited for a response, but it would seem there wouldn't be any to come. There wasn't anyone in the waiting room, or behind the desk. "Just perfect." She growled, ringing the bell.
Tears stung her eyes, rolling hot down her cheeks. She sniffed. Charlie hated crying. She hated it more than getting hurt. It was weakness. Total weakness. She had to be strong. She had to be a rock. War was nothing to her compared to this. Well war was something to her, she remembered when her mother died. Her grandfather dying shortly after, now her grandmother. She was alone. There was no one left. She didn't count her dad, he was always doing something more. She knew he liked Remus and Mattie and ken better. How couldn't he? They were stronger, more patient, more put together than she was. She didn't deserve this position, first cohort centurion. Then being rebuffed by Mors, what was she thinking? She still had one year left. But not being able to see him as often as she wanted, it made her jealous of Ronan and Zoe, of Josh and Rhiannon. Jealousy was weakness too. Seeing Chris and Marie, well she still cared for Chris very much, but they couldn't be together. She knew that.
Alone. The thought echoed through her mind. her hands went white as she grasped her circular shield. IT was made of reinforced oak, an iron reinforced ring around the wood and blue paint with a white bear's face painted on the front. When she had gotten the shield, she was still, well, she had a family. Frustrated, she picked up the shield, slamming it down on the desk in frustration. Charlie gave a gutteral growl as a few picture frames were knocked from their places of honor. The glass shattered as the frames hit the floor. Quickly she picked up the pictures, retrieving them from the floor. One of her and Chris, reminding her of their friendship. Another of her family, her mom, her grandpa, her grandma, it hurt to look at it. The final picture was of her and her father the day she got her promotion to centurion. Charlie knelt down to pick up the large shards of glass, spotting the broom in the corner that she would use to sweep up the smaller shards later. She gasped as she dropped the shard she was holding, it cut deeply into her hand that it crossed her palm with a crimson gash. It was deep too, she thought, judging by all the blood that was now dripping onto the floor.
Charlie stood up as she sniffed, trying to regain what little dignity she had. A cut this big was going to need stitches. She made her way towards the infirmary. The sky outside was pitch black, perforated by small dots in the sky, stars. Right now she hated it. Charlie hated everything. The sky, Mors, her mom, her dad, this stupid rock that was in her way. She kicked the rock aside, sending it sailing into the bushes. She had also felt as if she had felt some personal injustice by the infirmary door. She yanked it open, though if she had any real strength, it would have been pulled off of it's hinges. But it wasn't. Just another testament to the fact she was weak. Her face went pale as she continued to loose blood, it dripped down her fingers, warm and wet.
"I need stitches." She said grouchily to whomever was on duty at the front desk. Charlie's face drew into a frown as she waited for a response, but it would seem there wouldn't be any to come. There wasn't anyone in the waiting room, or behind the desk. "Just perfect." She growled, ringing the bell.