Your cracks are showing...
Posted on 27 Dec 2022 @ 8:24am by Ensign Avery Macario
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Macarios quarters
Timeline: MD 8 0000
683 words - 1.4 OF Standard Post Measure
She'd run from the office until she reached the private quarters that had been assigned to her. Praising the gods for their foresight to not give her a roommate, for that would have been a nightmare of monumental proportions. Avery could not have coped with a roommate.
It was more likely that the roommate could not have coped with Avery, as things in her life were getting quite... interesting. The increasing issues with her mind were showing in the reality of her life.
The quarters she lived in were a disaster, the likes of which would apall the counselor if he were to see them. Her paranoia had caused her to shut herself off from the rest of the world to the best of her ability, and she had quite some ability. No-one ever came to her personal quarters, and she wouldn't have allowed them entry even if they'd had a good reason to be there. Avery did NOT entertain guests, and she didn't have a lover to see into her little slice of hell.
It smelled clean like lemons and bleach, only because she was fanatical about her cleaning. Fanatical to the point of being near to obsessive. She had bottles of cleaning spray in multiple places, and wipes so she could keep them sorted and use to clean.
While it was terribly cluttered, there was nothing unsanitary about it. She was a biologist, she knew what sorts of nastiness could grow in the dark corners of the universe. And, she certainly didn't fancy having fancy microbia in her own quarters, though, she was sure she had some growing in the corners. That thought caused a shudder to race down her spine and made her pick anxiously at the nail on her first finger. She worried it till it tore right down to the quick. She didn't even flinch when she did so, nor did she notice that her finger was bleeding, because it wasn't a new thing.
Avery sometimes scrubbed things until her fingers bled at the cuticles. She'd stolen a dermal regenerator to heal the injuries she inflicted on herself without being aware that she was doing damage to her body. It was one more in a list of faults she found in herself that was miles long.
The counselor seemed to believe he could help her. And more, he wanted to help her. That much, that last spot of information she was certain of. He was serious about helping her. He probably couldn't help himself being betazoid. Compelled. That she could understand.
Her colleagues wouldn't lie to her, she knew that on a fundamental level too. Dr. Terys hadn't lied because counselors, especially betazoid ones weren't going to lie to her. Omit details or manipulate her, sure...but never outright lie. Her chorus of whispered voices when they did speak aloud, loud enough to be heard...they did lie to her, frequently. Frequently enough that she found herself fact checking the people that were mere figments of her overactive and damndable imagination.
Maybe Dr. Terys can get them to leave me in peace.
He can't help you. We're never leaving you.
Maybe I can get some control. Maybe he can give me something
scientific to use against this madness. I am IN CONTROL!
Control is an illusion.
Control is achievable!
Not with us. You're ours now.
I refuse.
Cackling laughter surrounded her and she cringed into the shadows where they couldn't see her. She stuffed her arm in her mouth to muffle a cry of terror. It was like her nightmares had leapt out of the dreamscape and entered her reality in a spectacular way. She was, as she always was....terrified. Heart thudding and chest heaving with exertion Avery burrowed into the dark corner until she found the softness that was a pile of blankets.
Her blankets she threw over her head and she huddled into the shadows sobbing with fear until exhaustion finally swayed her into what was probably not going to be a restful sleep. It never was when it was like this.
