no saving grace - open

[abby]

Self respect. Abigail at times found herself wondering if she had any. More often then not, her answer was… well less then pleasing. She’d stare at her naked reflection in the mirror. Trying to see something deep. Something more. But all she ever saw was a well put together body that was completely bangable. She wasn’t really sure that counted as self respect. In fact she was certain that seeing herself as just an object. A sexed up form that was to be used then discarded, was the very opposite of self respect. She stood now, alone in her room. Naked and still wet from her shower. Examining her flesh in excruciating detail. Blond hair limp and wet down her back. Searching for that ever elusive shred of something more beneath the surface. Some substance that held her all together. That made her real.

As it did on every occasion though, it alluded her. She’d scrubbed her skin raw in the shower. Under the too hot steady flow. Hoping to wash away the layers. Instead, the hot water and harsh light of her dorm did the opposite for Abigail. Instead of bringing to the for-front the self she so desperately hoped was inside, it brought out her faults. Each tiny flaw and imperfection that lay upon her flesh was agonising for the girl. If all she was to the world was flesh and desire, and that flesh was marred, what did she have left? What was left to under-pin her existence? What was left for her to become?

Daniel was right. The left breast was prettier. The right nipple was smaller and oddly shaped. With a chicken-pox scar on the under-side of the mound of flesh. She was disgusting. She couldn’t bare it any longer. Looking at her empty shell was turning Abigail’s stomach. She felt like she was looking at the mangled and deformed carcass of a wild animal that had just been fed to a pack of vicious wolves. With hot salty tears stinging behind her blue eyes, she turned away from the mirror. Collecting her robe from the end of the bed, slipping it on. Hiding her shame. If she covered up she could pretend. Pretend she wasn’t a walking corpse. Worth nothing.

an all time low, huh? The words rang in her ears. As though Killian had spoken them instead of scribbling them on a scrap of paper and casually leaving them where she’d find them. As if they were not the single most soul destroying words in the world. An all time low. She was sure there had been a lot of those in her life. Low moments didn’t need much of an introduction when you were Abigail Stone. Just when you thought she could sink no lower, she’d find herself some quick sand and fall spectacularly from any grace that may have previously surrounded her. In a warped way she enjoyed her falls from grace. She preferred the dank underworld to which she had grown accustomed. The light was too bright. Too unforgiving.

So why now, did those words act as a catalyst for this current behaviour? The answer was there. Hanging over her like a dark cloud you just wouldn’t accept on the day of your wedding. You tell yourself it’s not real, that it will go away. That there is no way it would rain. That was usually when it poured with rain. When you were begging so much for it not to. There her cloud hung. Ready to pour down on her a simple realisation. Killian Reagan was her self respect. Everything good and decent and real she knew about herself was tied up in him. His opinions of her. The words he spoke about and to her. If he, the only one who looked beyond her eyes, thought she’d reached an all time low, then maybe she was spiralling more then she even knew.

Hugging her arms around her chest, Abigail gave in. What incentive did she have not to? Killian was disgusted by her. In her mind she could see him questioning why he even wasted his time with her. Why he ever expected she was something more then what she really was, a wretch. There was no saving grace for Abigail Stone though. The blind would stay blind and the lost would stay lost. She’d long since let go of any childhood notions of a savour. The world was a cold, harsh place. You either had to fight it, or succumb and allow yourself by swallowed whole. Abigail was never much of a fighter.

So instead of curling her hair, slipping into the mock fifties dress she had found at an opp-shop and colouring her lips in the shade of red she knew Killian loved like she had planned, she slid on some fishnets and lined her eyes in dark kohl. Leaving her hair ratty. She’d find some other boy, and play out his fantasies. Play her part well. And hope he didn’t figure out he was screwing someone already dead inside..

COUNT. 845
TAG. open
NOTES. …I dunno, I needed to write this..

[angie]

If there was one thing that Victor never particularly cared for, it was being bored on a Friday night. Thankfully, it didn't happen often - between rehearsals, actual shows, and his generally active social life, he was more used to turning down offers to do things than looking for them. Today, however, was one of the rare occasions when he had absolutely nothing planned. It was a strange feeling, and one that he didn't care for in the least. He just liked to be busy, was all - busy and not alone. He could generally handle one or the other - if he had nothing to do but someone to do nothing with,t hat was fine. The same was true of the opposite; he never particularly minded working alone as long as he was, well, working. Unfortunately, tonight, due to his lack of plans, rehearsal, or show he was both at the same time. During the course of the afternoon, he'd thought that he'd be okay. He had a play that he wanted to read, his roommate was gone for the night (thank god - if he'd had to stay in the room with him all night Victor probably would have gone insane), he had enough tea to last him the night. He'd managed to stay satisfied for all of an hour before he decided that laying around in decidedly unfashionable pajamas with a cup of tea and a book was something that he could do when he was waiting to die. Right now, he was still young - not waiting to die - and he wanted to take advantage of that fact that he was in the middle of Philadelphia on a Friday night. Maybe if he were in Middle-of-Nowheresville, South Dakota, staying in with a book might be an option. In the middle of a major city, though? Not so much.

But first things first - he needed to get dressed. Going out in his pajamas was not an option, largely because his pajamas consisted of an oversized t-shirt, and the idea of that gave him a little heart attack. He wasn't entirely sure he was physically capable of it, to be honest. Vicky absolutely, positively hated going outside unless he was one-hundred percent sure that he looked good. To be honest, it created a bit of a problem; he needed at least a full hour before he was ready to go anywhere. It was a long, painful process; he had to choose a full outfit, do his hair, decide that the outfit he'd chosen was completely inappropriate for the occasion and then start the whole process over again. Tonight was more difficult than usual, too, mainly because he didn't have any idea what he was planning on doing. Eventually, after an hour of staring at his incredibly full closet, he decided on a pink shirt and blue-and-white argyle sweater with grey pants and a grey pair of trainers. Taking one last glance in the mirror, he decided that he looked suitable. Grabbing his wallet and key on the way out, he headed towards Patrick House. Maybe he'd be able to catch Abby before she headed out to do whatever it was that she was doing. She couldn't have many other plans; she was in the same situation he was. Besides, she wasn't going to have half as much fun without him.

He snuck into the locked door as someone else walked out. By this point he felt like he deserved his own key; he spent so much time in Abby's dorm and vice-versa that they might as well just make the whole thing formal and switch their roommates. He walked into her room unannounced, not bothering to knock, hoping that Abby was still here and it wasn't her roommate he'd have to deal with. "Abby!"

[/color] he exclaimed in a sing-song voice, arms held wide. "We're going out,"[/color] he informed her when he found her standing in front of her mirror. He grimaced when he saw what she was wearing, though - that certainly wasn't going to work. "Oh, Abby. Really? Tights as pants? And it is entirely too early in the season for that much smokey eye,"[/color] he said, crossing his arms and sighing.

NOTES: WHOOO. WORDS: IDK STATUS : COMPLETE OUTFIT: HERE TAGGED: abbyyyyyyy[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/font][/size]

[abby]

The sound of a voice behind her had shocked Abby. She actually wasn’t sure she was even ready to see a person. Her mood was still rather low; she was in a place that she never let anyone see, not even her closest friends. Everyone had their own idea of who Abby stone was; Killian saw her as a sex symbol, Vicky saw her as his bitchy bestie and the list went on. She worked hard at keeping up appearances, being what others saw her as or wanted her to be. And she was all those things to be honest. She could just section off aspects of her personality for people. There were some parts though, that she desired to always stay hidden.

She didn’t need to turn around; she didn’t even need to look in the mirror to see who it was whom had let themselves into her room rather rudely. She knew his voice. She also knew that there was only really one person who’d dare comment on the way she dressed. At least to her face. Trust a gay kid to find a problem with her lack of pants. She was sure no man with a correctly working penis would mind much at all. In fact she would be willing to test that theory. Only maybe not tonight. She wasn’t exactly in the mood for fun and games. She was in the mood to do something so very mind numbing she didn’t have to think, or more importantly feel anything.

Raising her eyebrows at the boy, she rolled her heavily coated eyes as she turned to face the younger kid. Arms folding across her chest in a defiant stance. “Oh?” She sneered slightly. “We are, are we?” Her tone was cold and rather harsh, she knew it. A lot harsher then she had ever really been with Victor, but she was rather annoyed. Had he walked in just a few moments earlier, besides her being naked, he would have seen the tail end of her mental break down and that was not okay. Moving to pick up her phone in her black nailed figures, she pressed a few buttons. “Nope... no text or miss calls... What about face book?” She placed her phone on her desk and leant over her laptop, typing and clicking for a moment. “Yeah no, nothing there either..”

Closing the lid, she straightened up to look her friend in the eye. “As far as I can see there was no invitation made, so as far as I am concerned, we are not going out, kay?” She was being harsh, she knew she was. Pushing one of her best friends away for no better reason then the fact she was feeling really destructive. Perhaps she’d feel differently in the morning; or feel some remorse. Or maybe she wouldn’t. She wasn’t sure, but what did it matter? Right now, she felt as though she had poison in her veins. Sweet, numbing poison. And it was her job to spread it as far and as wide as she could. Take down everyone who came into contact with her.

“Also..” She started, as she moved to her closet. Pulling off the basic tank she had on with her fishnets. “I’m not wearing fishnet tights as pants, I’m planning on wearing a dress, ass face.” Instead of putting on a real dress though, she picked up a long, slightly over-sized singlet from the floor and pulled it on over her black bra. The white fabric hung low on her chest, showing the top of her bra off to the world. It’s hem barely covering her behind. It wasn’t all that much better then what she had been wearing, but that didn’t bother her in the slightest. When she wanted to, Abigail Stone could actually be quite classy. This though, was clearly not one of those times.

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[angie]

Abby was in one of her moods tonight - Victor could tell already. Why, he didn't have any idea. In fact, this was probably the worst he'd ever seen her; he couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken that coldly to him (hello, he couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken that coldly to anyone, and that was saying quite a bit), and he was a little bit surprised at how much it hurt. He was nothing if not an actor, so when she stared at him, he stared right back, mimicking her position. He didn't know what was going through her mind right now, but he certainly didn't appreciate her taking it out on him. Okay, so, yes, maybe he should have knocked. But he never knocked. Abby knew that by now. There was something else going on here, and even though Vicky knew that he knew her well, he didn't have the slightest idea what it was. This was a completely bizarre situation, and it made him just as completely confused. He didn't know what he was supposed to say, or what he was supposed to do. Obviously coming over had been a bad idea in the first place.

Now that he was here, though, he didn't have much of a choice. He couldn't just leave her alines when she was obviously not feeling like herself, and even if she was fine, walking out in the middle of a conversation - if it could be called that - wasn't an option either. The only thing he could think to do, then, was pretend that things were okay, and that Abby wasn't completely out of her mind. So even though he knew it was dangerous and completely ill-advised, considering how well acting like nothing was wrong had turned out so far, he stuck with his plan, continuing to pretend he'd noticed nothing. Taking a quick moment to mentally prepare himself, he rolled his eyes and sighed. "That's why I'm here?"

[/color] he offered, as if it were obvious. "Does this not count as an invitation?"[/color] he asked, inching towards the door. He didn't know what else to do, now - it was obvious that she didn't want to see him right now, and he certainly didn't want to stay somewhere he wasn't wanted. Even that play and the cup of tea was looking good right now; it was much better than one of his best friends making him feel like shit. He was worried, he just didn't have the slightest idea what to do. She obviously didn't want his help either.

Thankfully, after a bit of an awkward silence, the conversation turned back to fashion. At the very least, this he could handle. It was much easier to block out strange things and mean comments when he had clothes to criticize. When Abby said that she was planning on wearing a dress, he breathed a sigh of relief, his first genuine action since she'd snapped at him. When she changed, though, the relief quickly turned into exasperation. "Abby, that's not--"[/color] he stopped, realizing that this could be a way out. "Well, you win, then. If you're wearing that, I guess we aren't going out,"[/color] he informed her cattily. He hated to do it, but, honestly, Vicky just wanted out. If Abby didn't want him here, she'd get her way.

NOTES: HE'S A BITCH. D: WORDS: IDK STATUS : COMPLETE OUTFIT: HERE TAGGED: ABBYYYYY[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/font][/size]

[abby]

Abigail had been in the middle of seeking out some accessories for her ‘outfit’, if she dared call it that, when she’d heard Victor’s words. If she was going to wear that then he didn’t want to be seen with her. The words stuck her in the gut; like a knife gliding into butter. Latching onto the wound that had already been gashed open that day. Dragging it further open, un-doing any healing that had already been done. She could feel the back of her neck tingle slightly, and she stiffened. Stopping her search for the perfect necklace for her mood. She rather literally couldn’t believe what he’d just said to her. Of course, he had no idea what she’d already been through so there was no way he was to know it was a tender issue.

There was also the fact that she’d been asking for it. From the moment the young man had stepped into the room, Abigail Stone had been nothing but a heartless bitch to him. She really didn’t deserve any sort of sympathy from him at all. That wasn’t the point though was it? Sometimes friends needed unconditional love. Even when they were being completely horrid to you, they needed to be loved, to be made feel like they were worth something. How was Victor supposed to know any of that though? She had never in their time of knowing each other needed such things from him. It was new territory in their friendship that neither of them were well versed in, or prepared for.

The blonde could feel an over-whelming rage grow inside her. It was a good thing her back was to the young man, or he’d have seen the intense anger flash behind her eyes. Abby wasn’t anything like an angry person, so such intense feelings of that nature scared her. She wasn’t used to such strong desires to break something, or physically cause pain to her friend. She stood stock still, trying to make sense of it all. It was better that way, or all that would come out of her mouth would be swear words- and that wasn’t going to do anyone any good. She needed to locate a cause for her anger at least, perhaps try to rationalise it, so at least then she had some idea of what she should say to him.

He was ditching her for a stupid reason. That’s what it was. A wave of realisation came to her. What the hell was with all these people in her life that claimed to be close to her just turning around and judging parts of her that are vital to who she was? Who cared if she had sex with every person on the planet, and who cared if she walked down the street in nothing? If that made her who she was, then why the hell couldn’t people just accept her for that? That really that wasn’t much of an ask was it? For god’s sake, she was so completely tired of being judged. She was who she was, and people should just accept that!

“Of course...” She spat out, finally turning around to face him. “Of course you’d fucking ditch me because of what I’m wearing. God. I knew you were a bitch, but I didn’t realise what a judge-mental fuck head too.” She could feel hot tears stinging her eyes. Though she did her best to ignore them, in the hopes they’d go away. Tears really weren’t an option right now. “When I woke up this morning I didn’t realise every aspect of who I am would be put under such close criticism today.” She powered on, staring at him- voice wavering. “Well I’m so sorry I failed. I’ll try to dress a little more to your liking next time shall I? Completely change everything about me to make you happy. Is that what you’d like?” Wow... Transference much?

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[angie]

Victor wasn't the type of person that dealt well with emotions. In fact, out of everyone he knew, he was probably the least capable of being any sort of help in this situation. He didn't know how to take care of himself, much less anyone else! WHenever he suffered a disappointment - no matter how small it was, whether he didn't get the part or someone said "no" - he would dig the emergency pint of Ben and Jerry's out of the back of his freezer, throw his never-ending diet out the window and sit on the bed and watch Gone With the Wind and pretend he was Scarlett O'Hara, vowing that he'd never go hungry again (and it certainly didn't hurt that Rhett Butler wasn't exactly hard on the eyes). All of this, of course, meant that he was completely ill-equipped to deal with a friend gone emotionally haywire. He didn't have the slightest idea what to say or what to do - was he supposed to stay and explain himself, or would that just make things worse? The more Abby talked, though, the less he wanted to leave her alone; the rate she was going, who knew what she'd do? But on the other hand, what had he done to deserve all of this abuse?

Okay, yes - telling her that he was ditching her just because of what she was wearing was an absurd, ridiculous thing to do. But from what he'd gathered from the situation, they weren't going anywhere anyway. There was something he was missing here, and the only thing that he could figure out about that missing thing was that it was disproportionately important to Abby and was making her confusing, rude and completely contradictory. "I-"

[/color] To be honest, Vicky wasn't even sure why he was still here - she'd just called him a bitch and a judgmental fuckhead. That was more than enough reason for him to just walk out right now. He couldn't help but feel like if he walked out now, though, he'd never be able to talk to her the same way again. She was being completely unfair, and he wasn't even sure that she realized it. In all fairness, he didn't have to justify anything to her. Unfortunately, his stubborn nature inevitably meant that he was going to stay. Had it been anyone else, he would have accepted it and moved on. He was a bitch, after all, and he could certainly be--what was it? A judgmental fuckhead. But because it was Abby, and, for once, he wasn't as deserving of those names, he felt like he had to justify himself.

"Abby!"[/color] he exclaimed, trying to hide his hurt. "You were the one that didn't want to go out with me in the first place! I'm giving you what you wanted; what's wrong with that?"[/color] Maybe his method wasn't the best, but he was just trying to - oh, he didn't know what he was trying to do. "I don't care what you wear--"[/color] That was a lie. "Okay, I do care and I'd very much prefer if you didn't wear that, for obvious reasons, but--"[/color] But what? What was he trying to say? He didn't have any idea, to be honest, but he had to say something. "But I wouldn't just leave you because I didn't like it. You didn't want to go out!"[/color] he protested. "I'm sorry, jesus!"[/color]

NOTES: WHOOO. WORDS: IDK STATUS : COMPLETE OUTFIT: HERE TAGGED: ABBYYYYY[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/font][/size]

[abby]

She couldn’t do it any longer. She couldn’t stand there, yelling at Victor with her displaced anger. She just couldn’t do it. It was so draining, and really all she wanted to do was drink a lot of booze and forget that she even had emotions at all. They were pesky things that cropped up in times when she least wanted them to. In situations she least wanted them to. There wasn’t supposed to be all these confusing emotions when it came to people she was popping. It was just supposed to be in, out, wham bam, all done. So why the hell did she care so much what he thought of her? One less guy who got her goodies. It should have been fine; only it wasn’t. It was anything but fine. It was a hot dammed mess.

She wasn’t even listening to Victor anymore. What he was saying wasn’t exactly important. She’d deal with what she’d said to him- maybe even apologise, later. When she was over her mental breakdown. Right now she just couldn’t deal with any more problems than her over-whelming feeling of complete and utter emptiness. With her lip quivering, she looked up at her friend. Eyes no longer help any of the ice from before. Now they were just empty raw. “Stop... Please..” she murmured, moving to her desk. Swallowing, she pulled open her draw. Taking out the crumpled note that had been passed back and forwards between herself and Killian. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone about it, let alone showing them. It was just that, there was no way she could put any of it into words. So that was easier; just showing him.

Wordlessly, she handed him the paper. Without looking him in the eye. She wasn’t exactly ready to let him see the humility. She didn’t even want to see him read it. It was way too painful. Instead she moved away from him and to her wardrobe. She couldn’t express herself right, but she could remove the clothes that had spurred things on. As a sign of apology to one of her best friends. Even if he wasn’t completely queer, she’d still have stripped off in-front of him. Abby lacked that little voice that told you clothes weren’t actually optional, but really a requirement. Taking everything, tights included, off, she left on her black underwear. They weren’t going anywhere, so he shouldn’t mind seeing her plain and perfectly covering panties and bra. It wasn’t as though they were see-through, though, she wasn’t sure that would have stopped her.

Sitting on her bed, Abby picked up her pillow. Hugging it to her chest. After what had seemed like enough silence for him to have read everything, and it all start to make sense, she spoke. “Why do we do it, Victor? Why do we let boys have the power to tear us down, so we’re nothing inside?” Her question was honest. She really didn’t know why. Why she let people have any sort of power over her and control how she felt about herself? She worked so hard at not caring, that it was probably inevitable that it was all going to come crashing down around her. She just hadn’t been expecting it. “Can we just forget you’re a bitch and I dress like a tart and just be drunk right now, please?”

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