Recuperating

The drive back to the manor remains as quiet as it was, and once we're safe behind the door, complete with its ruined chain from the Amours sudden and violent entrance to our home. To my home, I mean. Not that I live here either… only ghosts. But for now it's our base of operations. Nobody knows what to do next, with nobody to kill, what use are assassins? The Amours retreat to one of the rooms farthest from everyone else, co-opting the old ballroom, filled with dust and spiders as it is. I suppose I can't begrudge them it- if they want to avoid people as much as possible, as is their right. I just wish I knew how to help them, given everything that has happened.

But I don't know how to help them- after all, I barely know them. I met them, what, four days ago? Maybe? And at that point, two of them were trying to kill me while Ash stayed home, gardening and looking after his children. I do feel awfully for the man- he left this life, finally escaped it, and yet it just comes back- but this time, it takes what he loves most with him. I'm furious, I'm angry- how could I not be? Ranger's death was so avoidable, which is what sickens me most about it. But over all the rage there's just pity, guilt, and most prevalent, sadness. As for myself, I'm hiding in my bedroom with Lolita. I probably should be doing something- maybe cooking again. I don't really know why I feel like it, but I feel like I need to get up and do something. I can't just sit here, wallowing- not only is it bad for my mental health, I'll probably get tuberculosis or something from this old relic of a house. I can cook, at least. Maybe a peace offering. I feel like- No. Too many feelings. I need to stop feeling, for once. Too much of an emotional person, at heart, and if I ruminate on it any longer it'll just make me more sad.

Spurred by my moment of revelation, I get up off the bed- and then sit back down. I can't just forget Ranger ever existed, that's awful. But what am I supposed to do? I can hardly bake a cake in honour of their son dying. That would be irreverent, a real dick move. I'm not going to be mean on purpose, I try not to be mean on purpose to my friends. Sometimes I do think before I speak though, and hurt people, but not on purpose. I don't want to be that person.

I guess I can make them dinner, at least. I doubt anybody from their family wants to cook- I don't even know their last name. Or real names, for that matter. Was Ranger even his name? I don't know, and I don't want to ask- especially not now. But I hardly dig into their lives to find the real name of their recently deceased kid, that would be awful. So I guess I just have to put it in my mind, at least for now. Maybe I'll never know, but that isn't that bad. I can live with it, certainly. Time to walk downstairs- oh wait. I still haven't had my leg looked at, and nobody else seems to have noticed it either, which is pissing me off, but not enough to talk to any of them about it- too much anxiety, the very thought scares me. I can try and patch myself up, or I can go ask for help. Neither option sounds very good, to be honest. I'm not at all a healer, so I know I'd do a bad job of putting myself back together- but hobbling to one of my friends to ask for help sounds not only scary but also embarrassing for everyone involved. Lovely. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, as the saying goes. Then I think to myself that really, I should ask for help. The only thing in my way is my pride, and I can surely get past that. Steeling myself, I get up to walk out into the hallway, before belatedly realising that my leg can't support my weight. I fall back onto the bed with a high pitched yelp, like a dog that had its tail stepped on. God, I do hope nobody heard me make that sound- I'd never hear the end of it. Sitting and listening for a second, nobody comes running so hopefully they just didn't notice. I do think I'm pretty isolated where I am- in this old house, I did take my old room, up on the third floor, far away from anyone and anything important. Which is good when I squeak at trying to walk, but bad when I have to somehow get to one of them to bind up a probably broken leg.

So- who shall I ask? Assault has never had any sympathy for anyone on anything that I'm aware of. I don't know for sure he would even help me, if I asked. I mean, he would help me with a lot of things, I just don't know if this particular injury is one of them. So we have officially crossed Assault off the list. I know Rectified would try to help me, but I'm not sure they could help. Same thing for Personal and Explosive- so that leaves three choices. Scream, Bodies or going to ask the Amours or Kara. So that really only leaves Scream or Bodies- but Bodies' room is far closer, and that cinches the decision for me.