|Not Over it by a Long Shot (Tag sands_in_mexico)
||[Oct. 29th, 2010|06:13 pm]
She woke up in the middle of the night, needing to, as her father had always put it, piss like a racehorse. She eased herself out of Sheldon's embrace and went looking for his bathroom. She did her business, then poked around for a minute. There was nothing wrong with being a little nosy in your new man's home. She sniffed at his bottles of cologne, peered into his shower to see what kind of shampoo he used, then wandered back out to the hall. She was still feeling nosy, so she went out to the den. There on the coffee table, right where he'd left it, was that tiny gun of Sheldon's. She stared at it for a long moment, then hesitantly took the needed step forward to bend down and take it in her hand. Her shaking hand.
Lord, not again. Images flashed from her memory, Noah pressing cool metal to her head, raving like a madman; that puppet man controlling her hand, making her point a gun at Claire; the noise it made when she pulled the trigger... She let out a shriek and collapsed down on the couch, shaking hard.