Shattered Glass 2

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Ruth walked alone, except for the green fairy on her shoulder, to crystal hall for breakfast the next morning, well bundled up in a long black wool coat that went to her ankles, and a wool toque over top her bandanna. The cold nipped at her cheeks, making her feel alive.

A few people were walking along the path, but most students who could were underground, avoiding the dry snow that would pelt their faces when the wind picked up. She liked the solitude, knowing that she had some people who cared for her close by was enough for her. Sometimes she just needed to feel the sun on her face, the breeze in her hair, and the smell of living things in the air. Spinning in a circle, she threw her arms wide in joy.

Laughter filled her ears. Looking off to the side, she saw a large boy dumping snow on someones face. As the smaller person tried to stand up, the bully kicked him down.

She looked around, her eyes painfully wide, her chest tightened, her hands were shaking, rattling her purse as she clutched it. She almost fell twirling around looking desperately for help, security another student, a teacher, anyone, but no one was nearby. Deeper laughter rose in her head, louder, even more vicious. Ruth started to jog away, trying to find a security she'd heard were placed around the campus. The laughter chased after her, hounding her as she fell on some ice. The pain in her knees brought the image of Sadist throwing her to the ground, laughing as she cried out, to mind.

Gasping for breath, she tried to ride the panic out, telling herself she was safe. The laughter behind her told her differently. Then the boy yelled in pain.

Her ears heard the boy yelling, her mind turned it into the screech of a teenage girl, begging and screaming as she was tortured and murdered. Her small gloved hand changed into a larger hand, calloused from a lifetime of working with farm equipment, tools and other things, they uselessly slammed against a metal door, bleeding and swelling as he tried to break it down through strength alone.

“NOT AGAIN!” she shrieked.

Hitting a button under her coat, a PFG formed around her. Racing across the snow, she saw the bully kicking the smaller boy. Jumping on his back they toppled to the ground. An inhumanly strong arm threw her off. She rolled to her feet, eyes wide, her face twisted with rage.

“What the fuck is your problem?” the bully snarled.

“Leave him alone!”

“What is he, you're fucking boyfriend?” he asked, kicking the boy away. “Maybe you want me to hurt you?”

“You think you can hurt me, dip shit!” she laughed at the thought. “I learned from a fucking Picasso of pain!” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a gadget that looked like the hilt of a knife, pressing a button blue plasma erupted forming an energy blade. She started walking towards him, her eyes on his throat.

He jumped back. “Jesus Christ! You're fucking nuts!” When she kept coming, he turned and bolted jumping over the snow in twenty foot leaps.

The boy got to his feet, clutching his bruised side. His eyes were wide with fear, staring at her.

“Are you ok?” she asked, completely forgetting she had a plasma blade in her hand.

He didn't answer, just turned and ran away. She stared at him in confusion, then she realized her hand was hot. Flicking the blade off, everything came rushing back. Shoving the weapon into her pocket, she reached into her purse, pulling out her panic diary even as her hands shook. Her eyes focused on the page in front of her, and her hands steadied so she could write. She wrote down everything that she had felt, seen and heard, Dr. Bellows would want to read it when they met in the afternoon. With the panic past, she put her pen and diary away, brushed the snow off and calmly walked back to the path.

She reached crystal hall, and got a tray. Walking up to the buffet, she saw so many foods to choose from, she didn't know what to take. Standing there, she tried to think what would be good, but her eyes went from one tray to another, unable to focus on any one item. People started pushing past her as she stood there wondering what would be the right choice.

Finally in desperation, she followed a girl with bluish white hair, taking everything that she took. The girl gave her some odd looks, but didn't say anything. Finally she had her breakfast and after paying for it headed to a table where Rona was sitting. With her head down, she asked, “Can I sit here, please.”

“Sure,” Rona said. “Everyone this is Ruth, she just came to my wing. Ruth, these are Splits, Steph and Mandy, they live in Poes girls town. Did you like your walk?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“It's too cold for me to go outside,” the willowy girl called Splits said, her hand moving free of her wrist to bring a spoonful of cereal to her mouth which was floating two feet above where her neck should be. “My body parts keep freezing unless I practically tie them into my coat.”

Quickly eating the eggs and cheese that made up the majority of her breakfast, Ruth listened intently to what was being said, and despite arriving late, she was done before everyone else. Her eyes kept going to Splits, who didn't seem to have any joints, just open spaces, with the body parts floating like balloons in the general area where they should be. Near the end of the meal, a disembodied hand, holding a bookbag, came flying through the doors and settled on Splits left wrist. She stared openly at the bizarre sight.

Rona snapped her out of it. “Ruth, what do you have to do today?”

“I-I,” she stuttered trying to get her thoughts in order. “I must see Dr. Bellows this afternoon. He will help me get classes, and we have a counseling session.”

“Do you want to go to church? I heard you're Amish, that means you're pretty religious aren't you?” Mandy asked, flipping a lock of fluorescent orange hair out of her bright eyes.

“Ye-, no, I, wait, ,” she paused taking a moment to get her thoughts in order. “I'm not sure if I want to. With the community, service is held in our homes, I'm not sure what it would be like in a church.”

“Well, we have a church on campus, I don't really like Reverend Englund's sermons though, and I'm a little too shy to go to church in Dunwich or Berlin,” she motioned to her orange hair and eyes in explanation. “But if you want, I can take you there once we're done, or next week we can go together to one in town. And maybe we could do a bible reading in our dorm.”

Ruth nodded, allowing herself a tiny smile. “Yes. I'd like that. But not today.”

“Really? great, not many Poe girls want to bother with it, and not a lot of people on campus want to either, most of the ones that do, can be a little hardcore. Maybe next week you can join a few of my friends and I, we have bible study on Sunday afternoon. We're not the fire and brimstone type stuff you'll hear from Reverend Englund and his crowd, and it's pretty small usually there's only three or four at most.”

She wondered what it would be like reading the bible with the English, non-Amish people. She liked listening to her father reading the bible at night, would the bible study be the same? She'd been told that taking small steps at meeting people in comfortable settings would help her, but she didn't know if this would just be opening up old wounds. Very hesitantly she nodded, once.

Mandy's heart shape face lit up. “Great, I'll tell them this afternoon to expect you. Don't worry you don't have to do much, just come and listen at first.”

She nodded again.

“What's your power, Ruth?” Splits asked with the lull in the conversation. “I'm a warper. My body parts can go almost anywhere I want it to.” She used two disembodied finger tips and her thumb to grab a napkin from the dispenser halfway across the room while she stayed seated to demonstrate.

“Um, they said I'm a devisor and a gadgeteer. Nothing else. I like to make and fix things. Is that ok?”

“Better than me,” Rona said, pulling on a strand of her glass hair that was about as thick as her thumb, which came out easily, giving her a two foot long solid glass cylinder that became thinner at one end. “All I can do is turn invisible, and pretend my hair is a dull sword.”

Mandy rolled her orange eyes, turning them pure white momentarily. “Yeah turning invisible and always having a weapon is ssssoooo bad. I'm an omniglot, that means I can understand any language, including computers and body language. So I know when someone wants to kick my butt in any language of the world.”

The blonde girl, Steph snorted. “I've seen you in martial arts, you can hold your own against exemplars. You've made me land on my ass and I'm an exemplar four with danger sense.”

That made the smaller girl, who looked a little chubby blush and start playing with her long hair. “I'm just able to see what you're planning to do and make sure I'm not in the way.”

Ruth watched and listened as the conversation about powers kept going, not really following it, what was an exemplar, or a warper? How could reading body language help in a fight? What exactly was danger sense, and who was the evil little bastard?

Not really knowing what to say, and not understanding even a quarter of the talk, she wanted to leave, but she enjoyed being near people. The feeling of belonging struggled with her need to find a peaceful place and as her psychiatrist said, check out for a while to regain her balance.

Finally everyone finished eating, after she'd spent at least ten minutes wrestling with her decision. Standing up she followed Rona, since she had no idea what she should be doing until her appointment. The four girls started walking towards the library, which she had visited the other evening.

“Ruth we're going to be doing some homework in the library, you can come with us and read some books, or explore a little by yourself,” Rona said.

Biting her lip she looked at the four girls and then at the campus. A part of her wanted to be moving, to play in the sun and avoid being stuck in a building, but not knowing what was to happen next, not having any orders or routine after so long was scary. She'd been told that making her own decisions was important after so long of not having any choice except to obey or risk getting hurt. Taking a deep breath trying to control her shaking hands, she said, “I'll go for a walk.”

Rona gave her a hug. “Good for you! If you need some help ask a student or security. And if you don't feel safe about something head over to Kane or use a security phone.”

“Thank you,” she said, putting her shoulders back turning around and walking away.

**

Ruth had walked all around the school, carefully avoiding groups of people and really anyone else, occasionally holding her hand out for the green fairy that was flying around her to land, so she could cuddle it. The walk was relaxing, and she was glad she'd done it, even if a few times she'd gotten scared. She had seen a stable and heard some horses whinnying inside, her feet had started taking her towards it, but then she saw two girls, one of them wearing a leather dress, and the other one had a sword on her back, and turned away, not sure if she should be there or not, and not wanting to take the chance.

Now she was by a cottage that was apparently Dickinson, at least according to the small sign post. She
remembered that that was a girls cottage. It didn't look as nice as Poe, being smaller, and older looking, but to her eyes it was well built.

A pair of girls were coming down the path, so Ruth ducked her head and got as far off to the side as possible.

She gasped when a hand grabbed her, jerking her to a stop. The fairy flew up into a tree, making faces but staying well out of the way.

“What the heck are you doing Brianna?” the smaller girl asked.

Ruth looked up at a huge girl who was larger than most men. Words formed in her throat, but wouldn't come out.

“I think this is the girl who attacked Tyson this morning,” Brianna said. “Did you attack my boyfriend, bitch?”

“He was hurting a boy,” Ruth whispered.

“What did you say?” the girl asked giving her a hard shake.

She swallowed, trying to speak up. “He was hurting a boy. He shouldn't hurt people.”

Ruth winced when the girl started squeezing her arm. It hurt a little, but not nearly enough to cry over. Brianna leaned down getting into her face. “So you can attack him with a knife?”

She ducked her head, not sure what to say, hoping it would end soon.

“Bri, this can't be the same girl,” the smaller girl said. “Look at her, she wouldn't frighten a mouse.”

Brianna shoved her into the snowbank. “Give me your purse.”

Ruth took her purse off and held it up, letting the girl have it without a fight.

“Now let's see what you have in here. Tissue, student card, pencil, note pad, diary,” she sneered at Ruth, throwing most of the things to the ground in disgust. “What the hell, no cash, no phone, nothing. You're not only a pussy, but a poor pussy. Let's see if you have anything good in your diary. November 15, woke up from nightmare, dancing naked on a pool table as people threw coins at me. Demon was behind me slapping me to make me dance better. Didn't scream when I woke up. Shaking so badly can barely move. Afraid to go back to sleep. Hear him laughing. Hear Wendy screaming in the closet. Isaac is pounding on the door, yelling to be let in. Just memories, can't hurt me. They can't hurt me. They can't hurt me. Jesus, this covers the entire fucking page.”

The two girls looked at her with disgust. She kept her head down, watching them through her bangs. “Please, can I go now?” she whispered.

Brianna threw the diary at her head, bouncing it off her head. “Yeah, go ahead, freak.”

She picked up the diary, shoving it into her purse and grabbed everything that hadn't blown away. As soon as she had it all, she hurried away, head down, trying to avoid looking at anything, and trudging well off the path whenever she saw someone coming. The fairy Absinthe had given her sat on her shoulder hugging her and stroking her hair. When she finally made it back to Poe, she hurried into her room and sat down on her bed, cradling the fairy in her hands. Thinking about what had happened, she decided it had been a decent morning overall. She didn't have any bruises, she wasn't hungry, she'd only had the one panic attack, and she'd made some friends.

If everyday could be like this, she'd be happy.

**

“Hello Ruth, I'm Dr. Bellows, it's a pleasure to meet you,” the fifty year old man who was just beginning to lose his hair on top said.

“It's very nice to meet you as well, sir,” she replied, looking at her knees.

“How are you liking the school so far?” he asked.

“It's very nice, sir.”

“Any worries?”

She shook her head.

“Would you like to go over your class schedule first? It could help us get to know each other a bit and get one bit of paperwork out of the way.”

“That would be good, sir.”

“Right. Now because there are only a few weeks of school left, we are not assigning you to any regular classes. There isn't enough time to get you caught up, and I believe there are better options for you. Instead of pushing you directly into a classroom, you'll be doing quite a bit of independent study to get you used to interacting with a teacher and classmates in a more relaxed manner.” He looked at her expectantly.

Ruth just looked at the desk. The last time she'd been in school it had been a one room schoolhouse, run by the community, and most of her learning had been done by herself with help from the school teacher. Not knowing the first thing about how an English school was run, she simply didn't have anything to say, and he was in charge, she had to accept it.

“Is there anything you would like to learn?” he asked.

“I will learn what you tell me to. I'll do a good job, don't worry.”

He gently lifted her chin so that she was looking at him. “Ruth, you have a say in what to do with your life. Don't let anyone take that away from you. Now what do you enjoy?”

“I like horses,” she whispered.

That brought a smile to his face. “All right. You need a job at school, so would you like to work in the stables? We have several horses this year brought in by the students, which need taking care of.”

“I would like that, sir. I'd like that very much.”

“Excellent, I'll pull every string I have to, to get you a job there.” He wrote somethings onto a sheet of paper. “Now, about your classes, looking at the tests we sent you last week, you are doing quite well in engineering, the hard sciences, and most math. The social sciences however are generally a little below average. I heard that you ran into Teri the other day, did you enjoy meeting her?”

What could the little fairy have to do with classes, she wondered. “She was nice. So happy and small. I liked petting her wings.”

“It just so happens Teri has been tutoring several students in English as part of her school job, I'll ask her teacher to add you to the list of students for the rest of this term and the winter term. When we return to regular classes in Spring you'll be at the proper level.” He wrote some more things on his paper. “So that's English out of the way. We'll fit you into some independent math and tech study classes in the morning and afternoon.”

He rested his chin in his hand for a moment. “You don't fight do you?”

In a very quiet voice she said, “I don't want to fight anymore, sir.”

“I understand,” he said, patting her hand. “I'm going to put you into Survival 1, as an observer. You can ask questions, take tests, and follow the class, but you won't actually be graded. This will give you a boost in the spring term, when you can take the class right from the start. You'll be able to go with Rona and a few other Poe freshmen to that class.”

He typed some things into the computer, when she didn't respond. A paper came out of the printer a minute later. “This is your class schedule, Survival is in the first period, followed by two independent math study sessions, where you'll be in class with a teacher and other students but you'll be working on problems by yourself. You're expected to ask for help when you run into a problem and you may be asked to help someone else, so take the time to get to know your classmates and teachers. And for your afternoon classes, independent electrical engineering, chemical engineering, and drafting. We're looking at getting you your own workstation in the tunnel labs, you might have to wait until next term to get your own though. With finals coming up everyone is spread out as much as possible with their projects. However for small projects, you can find space on the supervisors station and you'll have a locker you can store it in safely.”

She nodded.

“Now that that's out of the way, your file says you have been keeping a panic diary, may I look at it?”

She handed it over without any hesitation.

“Do you find this helps you deal with your panic attacks?” he asked.

“Yes sir, it's very helpful.”

“I'll have to consider adding it to my own bag of tricks,” Dr. Bellows said. Opening it carefully, he quickly read several of the entries and then flipped to the last page. The kind smile faded as he read the final entry, until it was completely professional and unreadable. “Did you really attack a student with a knife?” he asked.

Ruth bowed her head, pulling the gadget out of her pocket and placing it in front of him. Her hands whipped back down below the desk, gripping her knees hard enough to hurt.

“What does the knife do?” he asked.

“It burns. It can burn flesh through forcefields, and slice metal. Sa- Sadi- he used it on me when I fought him. Burning my throat.” She felt her body starting to tremble. Grabbing the diary back, she began writing furiously, keeping her eyes on the page, ignoring the world around her. As usual when she was done writing panic was largely gone.

Dr. Bellows waited patiently, as she wrote, watching how she was dealing with the panic, and didn't begin to talk even after she put the book back in front of him. Only when she was able to look in his direction did he start to talk again. “Thank you for giving it to me and telling me the truth. That was a brave thing, many people wouldn't have been able to do. Do you have anymore weapons on you?”

She shook her head so quickly her bandanna came a little loose.

“Good, thank you for telling me. You have a PFG right?”

Her head jerked up, her eyes wild, grabbing his hand in hers. “PLEASE DON'T TAKE IT! I NEED IT! I NEED IT TO BE SAFE! PLEASE!”

He placed his free hand on hers. “I won't take it. There is nothing wrong with having it. No one will take it from you. I just wanted to know if you had it.”

Dr. Bellows kept calmly talking to her, as she kept pleading, not comprehending a single word he said at first, so overwhelmed with terror that she'd lose her shield. Gradually she began to focus on what he was saying, the blind panic running its course. Several long minutes later, she was able to remove her cramped fingers from around his hands. While she rubbed feeling back into her fingers, she watched, ashamed, as he winced and flexed his hand, bruises already appearing where she'd squeezed too hard.

“Do you want to keep going Ruth, or do you need a break?” he asked.

“I don't know,” she admitted.

“I want you to make the decision, I can't make it for you.”

She stared at her hands. She'd had so few choices for the last several months. She didn't know how to decide anymore. It was easier to just do what she was told. The only time she felt comfortable choosing something was with machines. She'd be given a job, and as long as she got it done as quickly as possible, she could do it in the way she thought best. The last few weeks, with people asking her to make decisions all the time, it was too much. Didn't they understand she'd do whatever they asked. As long as they didn't ask her to do something that would hurt someone she'd do it happily. It was her place, her job.

Dr. Bellows was watching her.

What was she suppose to do?

What did he want her to do?

Why wouldn't he tell her what to do?!

She bolted, forgetting her purse, her coat, even the green fairy who had been watching her. Slamming the door open she pushed a secretary out of the way as she ran past. She ran as fast as she could down the stairs, and picked up speed once she was outside heading for Poe. Ignoring the startled looks of the other students, she made it to her dorm. Closing and locking the door, she sat on the floor at the foot of her bed, clutching her knees, watching the door waiting for the Demon to come, demanding she make something for him again. Or maybe one of the people she'd killed would arrive to drag her off to hell. Or Isaac would be there, screaming for his body, his life.

When the door finally opened, she saw Bishonin and Mrs. Horton were both there, looking concerned, talking very softly, asking if she was ok.

She started crying in relief.

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Comments

Ok

One thing she is not is ok. Dr Bellows has his work cut out for him.

Keep up the good work!

Jorey
.

One advantage Dr. Bellows has

Domoviye's picture

One advantage Dr. Bellows has is that Ruth really does want help. She's pushing herself as hard as she can and following advice, so there is that. Not everything is going against her.

Seeing as you haven't posted

Seeing as you haven't posted it on the other site yet, thought I'd leave a comment here. I'm curious if you or someone close to you went through serious trauma due to how often you give it to your characters....

Anyways, the look into a broken mind can be enlightening even if it isn't certified personal history. Hope Ruth can heal soon. (Despite being fictional, you have a way of making readers care about your characters.)

Would you believe no.

Domoviye's picture

Would you believe no.
The closest I came to it, was my exwife who had manic depression, codependency issues, and probably a touch of paranoia, all of which were there long before I met her.
However, as I told one person who talked privately about how dark one of my stories was, the worst of these are to relieve stress. Rather than letting it stay in my head, I put all the bad feelings out there and torment my characters. But rather than having them face horrific things and come out unscathed, I try for some realism, and let them have the survivors guilt, panic attacks, twitches and phobias, because it does make them more realistic.
I've said before how I don't like supermen, that goes mentally as well as physically.
Also I like reading up about insanity and things like that. I'm morbid sometimes.
Thanks

poor girl

I identify with her so much. Much like her, once my abuse stopped, I felt lost. it had been so long since I had made any decisions for myself I had forgotten how ...

DogSig.png

I'm probably putting a very

Domoviye's picture

I'm probably putting a very tiny bit of myself into her as well.
I've always been easy going, believing that giving an idiot enough rope to hang themselves was better and more enjoyable then getting into a huge fight about something. Then with my exwife, well lets just say she tried to be very controlling. I didn't give into her all the time, but she had enough heft to seriously threaten me, especially after we had a child.
Once I and my daughter got away from her, I found that I would go with what others suggested or let them make the decisions more often than I should even if I didn't want to do it, it was just easier. Still trying to break that habit six months later.

I fought with myself

over commeing on this story. Somehow, this tale, and it's desperate protagonist have gotten into a very deep part of me.

This poor, damaged human being has been reduced to a mere shell... not knowing who or what she really is. Tortured beyond belief both physically and mentally, I don't know how she will ever recover fully.

It's rare for me to get this involved in a story and I have to compliment you on how you are weaving the tale. I only hope that the outcome you have in mind for this girl is a good one. I'm going to have to rest my mind before I continue reading for today.

Sometimes you can slay your demon... other times, the demon slays you. I hope it's the former and not the latter for this kid.

Catherine Linda MIchel

As a T-woman, I do have a Y chromosome... it's just in cursive, pink script. Y_0.jpg

Thank you.

Domoviye's picture

Thank you.
One other reason I write about characters like this, is that it's hard to do it successfully. Keeping from doing stupid and insulting mistakes, keeping the characters realistic, and keeping them interesting is a challenge. If you can do it properly though it's a really good story.
I'm so glad that it seems to be working.

Man

Tas's picture

This is hard stuff. As someone who has never known anyone that deals with any sort of mental trauma, this is very compelling. The fact that these kinds of things happen is heartrending.

Very well done

-Tas

It's because stuff like this

Domoviye's picture

It's because stuff like this happens that I'm a cynical bastard.