(no subject)

[hebeimmortalized]

It's early, most people are still sleeping. But she can't sleep. Her brain turned on at three AM and it won't shut up, so she's in the kitchen, sketching out an abstract image of Paul's face, because why not? The city has let her run into him twice while looking like shit, and she it's not like he's ugly. She's using pinks and purples to draw and shade, and she'd started coffee about twenty minutes ago, even though she rarely drinks it, herself.

She glances up when someone joins her in the kitchen.

She's seen him around, and it's not like they've never talked, but Jillie is feeling a lot more aware of herself, her surroundings, and her awful memory, now that her medication is back to stable levels, and her therapy is going so well. So when she sees Girl's boyfriend, she finds herself trying to remember if they've ever talked about anything important. Like, school, or work, or whatever.

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[hebeimmortalized]

Jillie takes several shaky breaths as she lights up a cigarette. She smokes it quickly, burning through it fast enough that it's a wonder she can even taste it. She doesn't say anything during this time, then slowly swallows.

Once her cigarette is down to the filter, she stubs it out and slowly, deliberately, crouches to pick up the knife. She offers it back to Carson in the same way he'd offered it to her, handle first, pinching the flat of the blade near the dull edge.

"It's hard to explain," she says, as if the knife scene hadn't just happened. "It's like. Having a war, inside your head, with all these different soldiers trying to do, or make you do, different things. I'm medicated but it's not a cure." She runs her face with fluttering fingers.