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Corrine's picked up the phone to call him four times in the past hour. She doesn't want to be alone. Kelly is already in bed, already asleep, so she's not really alone, but... damnit. This house is too big and there's too many bad things soaked into the walls and she can't get away from it.

She'd been doing so good, really, but she was too lonely and it was cold outside and there was nothing on TV and she was alone. She didn't want to be alone. She'd cried in bed and tried to sleep, and it'd been useless because she kept thinking of him and how much she wanted him there in bed next to her. Just so she could sleep. Just for a little while. Just until she adjusted to this. She was allowed 'adjustment' time, right? Not together anymore but still kind of together, just until... until... when? Tomorrow? Next week?

This was the right thing to do. It was good for them. She kept telling herself that.

It wasn't really that she needed Caleb specifically, but anyone here with her right now would be good. She was putting on her brave face as always but right now it felt like the ceiling of the world was coming down on her head. So she'd done what she always did, and she hated herself now.

This was it, though. Really. Just one last, as she empties the shot glass. She really needed sleep. If she could just sleep, she'd be okay. Just a little more to sleep. It was too late to go anywhere and she didn't want to leave Kelly alone so it wasn't even like she could run to the store and buy a little box of those sleep aid things. So just one more. One more, and then sleep. It'd be okay. It was just for sleep.

Corrine picks up the phone again, staring at the receiver through blurred vision. In her peripheral, the bottle is almost empty. She starts dialing, and stops halfway through. She puts the phone down and stares at it.

Just one more. For sleep.

Date: 2006-01-15 10:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] caleb-z.livejournal.com
Not even thirty seconds after her aborted attempt to contact him, Caleb is standing in front of her house, knocking on her door.

Date: 2006-01-16 06:59 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
Corrine starts at the sound. She swivels around on the stool at the nook, almost knocking the bottle off the table in the process. There's a little juggling act for a moment while she catches it, then sets it firmly on the table.

Being careful to grip it by the handle this time (and more for a weapon then anything), she stumbles down the hall, getting to the parlor and peeking through the curtain. Caleb's on the porch. Fuck. She shoves the bottle behind a pillow and makes her way to the door. Maybe she can feign that she'd been asleep. She cracks the door open and peeks out. "Caleb? It's four in the morning," and wincing at how slurred it is.

Date: 2006-01-16 07:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] caleb-z.livejournal.com
She doesn’t look to be doing very well, he can’t help but note.

“I … I couldn’t help but observe that myself when your name appeared on my Caller ID. Are, uh … are you … are you alright?”

Date: 2006-01-16 07:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
She nods a little too hastily. "Yeah, yeah... everything's fine. Just can't sleep. Was gonna call Angie, but, uh... must've hit the wrong speed dial button. I didn't mean to wake you, I didn't realize it even rang."

She's trying to keep her speech together as much as possible, and hoping he'll hear this and leave it be. Part of her wants to pull him inside and invite him to stay for the night, but that would be... She couldn't do that. God, she was so fucking weak when it came to him.

Date: 2006-01-16 04:12 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] caleb-z.livejournal.com
“Your drunk,” he says as he surveys her face and notices her speech patterns. She had made a point of mentioning that she had been trying to clean up, and that her house was, as of her dumping him, dry as a bone.

What made her fall off the wagon? Sure, relapses are a normal part of breaking any undesirable habit, but why now? He really wants to just open the door, throw his arms around her, and not let go until she tells him what’s wrong. But that wouldn’t work anymore, now would it? In fact, given her stated reasons fro terminating their relationship, that might actually be counter-productive. He curbs the impulse, and opts to instead just stare at her with that piercing gaze of his: The one that says ‘I see all.’

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Date: 2006-01-16 05:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
Her face scrunches up in anger. "Damn you!" she shouts, shoving him back. She shoves him again, harder this time. "GET OUT!"

Date: 2006-01-16 06:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] caleb-z.livejournal.com
He rolls with the shoves, but comes back each time. “Again!” he yells through gritted teeth.

Date: 2006-01-16 06:05 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
Is he actually goading her on? She's more than happy to give him what he wants, and shoves as hard as she can. "GET OUT!" And she can feel the power in her arm as she pulls her fist back, forgetting how drunk she is, not caring that the hit will be pathetic and sloppy. She gets him in the shoulder, not nearly as hard as she wants to.

Date: 2006-01-16 11:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] caleb-z.livejournal.com
He can take it, forcing himself not to dodge as the blow catches him to little effect. “Come on!” He growls, somewhat more energetically then before. He begins rubbing his hand in her hair – more as an annoyance than as a way of hurting her.

“You can do better than that!”

Date: 2006-01-17 04:23 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
She swipes at his hand, tumbling forward a few steps in the process. She loses her footing, hitting the floor, palms out to catch herself. Her knee hits the floor with a crunch, and she tries to land as gracefully as she can on her butt.

After a few long moments of leaning over her knee, she looks up at him, tears in her eyes. "Get out." And it's so much more pathetic than before.

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Date: 2006-01-20 01:49 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
Corrine sings. And sings. And sings. Eventually, she moves from the Lambchop theme onto something only slightly less annoying in repetition... Au clair de la lune.

"Ma chandelle est morte... Je n'ai plus de feu... Ouvre-moi ta porte..." Her singing is slowing towards the end, her voice softening as she goes on and on. After fifteen very long minutes she's barely whispering, jerking her dozing head up occasionally to mumble out indistinct lyrics.

Date: 2006-01-20 01:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] caleb-z.livejournal.com
Finally, she’s passing out! Although it takes a great deal of conscious effort, Caleb remains outwardly focused on the television, as to give her no renewed interest in annoying him.

And annoying him, she was.

Date: 2006-01-20 02:01 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
The last few lines aren't even audible this time, her mouth barely moving to form the words. When her head lulls to the side it stays there. She looks rather peaceful when she's sleeping, a little smile at the edge of her lips as her head leans against the armrest.

Date: 2006-01-20 02:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] caleb-z.livejournal.com
Caleb isn’t a fool. He waits a few minutes to ensure that her sleep is a deep as it’s going to get before acting.

As gently as he can, Caleb picks Corrine up, and carries her upstairs and into her own room. He cringes as he places her on her bed, as his right hand gives out and drops her the last few inches, his own hand pulling back and being held in pain against his chest. Damn sore fingers…

For a time he just stands there regarding Corrine, hoping he hasn’t accidentally awoken her.

Date: 2006-01-20 02:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
It's just not his week.

Her eyes flutter open and she stares around blurrily, finally settling her unstable vision on him. She giggles drunkenly, rolling over on the bed. "Come t'bed, b'by..." she mumbles, and then she's asleep again.

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Date: 2006-01-20 06:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
Morning.

Ugh.

Ugh.

Ugh, ugh, ugh. Corrine rolls over, wincing at the light coming through the curtains. She feels like she hasn't eaten in weeks, while at the same time the very thought of food makes her want to be sick.

She sits up with some effort, holding her pounding head. There's noise coming from downstairs, two voices... Caleb. Caleb. SHIT! She tosses the covers off of herself, stumbling out into the hallway. She got really drunk last night. She got really, really drunk last night. So much for kicking the habit. Now to see how much of an ass she made of herself...

Date: 2006-01-20 06:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] caleb-z.livejournal.com
Caleb is in the kitchen, still moving about and putting the finishing touches on a home cooked breakfast for everyone.

As he’s cooked, he’s gotten a chance to chat with Kelly, who, while somewhat meek, has an excellent sense of humor. They’ve been talking for hours, especially as Kely stumbled onto a topic that is always guaranteed to get Caleb talking: his little sister.

“So, we’re trying to teach this bird to talk and, more specifically, say all of our names,” he remembers with some novelty, “but little five year old Amelia is just crawling around and pointing at the bloody thing saying ‘Birdie! Birdie! Birdie!’” He chuckles and mock points as he tells the tale. “Silly bird eventually learned all of our names, except for ‘Lia, whom it was convinced was named ‘birdie.’ Nickname just stuck after that.”

Date: 2006-01-20 07:04 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] outcast-xtras.livejournal.com
"Oh my god, that's so cute!" Kelly says between a mouthful of french toast. She's got a piece of sausage in another hand, and as she starts to take a bite she sees movement from the corner of her eye.

Date: 2006-01-20 07:08 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
Corrine shuffles into the kitchen, surveying the scene with quiet eyes. She's very obviously hung over and hurting, and she's changed into a pair of beat-up jeans and an oversized sweater... one of Caleb's, actually. It doesn't occur to her whose real owner it is, just something she found shoved in the back of her former apartment's closet that got carelessly tossed in a box when she moved.

Her hair is a mess and her voice is low and scratchy when she speaks. "What time is it?"

Date: 2006-01-20 07:14 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] caleb-z.livejournal.com
Caleb glances up from the stove with a smile, immediately noticing the sweater. With a flick of the wrist he checks his watch before again regarding Corrine.

“Ten thirty, sunshine. Here,” he says, gesturing to the table, “have a seat. There’s French toast, eggs, sausage, and strips of bacon ... though, uh … I - I suppose the sausage and bacon would be more for the omnivores, now wouldn’t they? Uh … still. French toast and eggs. I was, uh … was going to make hotcakes as well, but I couldn’t find all of the ingredients.”

“Would you like something to drink, love? Might help with both the hangover and the throat.”

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Date: 2006-01-22 02:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] outcast-xtras.livejournal.com
Kelly's right hand shakes furiously at her side for a few seconds, tears starting to fill her eyes. Corrine's last comment is enough, though, and she pulls her hand back, slapping Corrine hard across the face.

"You are a bitch!" she screams, pulling her hand back and flexing it into a fist. She's resisting the urge to hit her again, just for good measure, but she doesn't. "In fact, I'd have to say you're the biggest bitch I've ever met, and I've met some pretty rotten fuckin' people! No fuckin' wonder you don't have any friends! Who the fuck would want to get kicked around by you? Someone should've slapped the shit out of you a long time ago!"

Date: 2006-01-22 03:05 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
Corrine's taken aback by the slap for a moment, her shocked face turned as she holds her cheek, mouth open. She looks up at Kelly slowly. She makes a quick duck around Caleb, backhanding the younger girl and knocking her on her butt.

"You're a fifteen year old RUNAWAY, and I was nice enough not to have your ass LOCKED UP for wrecking my goddamn house! Your so-called 'friends' gang-raped you when you were fucked up beyond recognition! What the FUCK do you know about anything, little girl?!"

Date: 2006-01-22 03:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] caleb-z.livejournal.com
And suddenly, being parted from this woman seems a lot easier.

Without hesitation he grabs Corrine by her arms, and holds her just as firmly as he can without hurting her. “I’m starting to notice a certain mother daughter resemblance,” he growls as he stares her in the eyes, then releases her with a push backwards. It’s not nearly hard enough to nock her down, but it’ll shove her back a step or two.

His tone lightens, but his stance is one of someone expecting to have to defend himself. Arms aren’t raised, but his joints are relaxed, as though he expects to have to move and bend at any moment.

“What, she says something you don’t agree with, so suddenly you jump to replace a physically abusive situation with an emotionally abusive one? Of all people, love,” the sarcasm of the word is quite pronounced, “you should appreciate just how low that is.”

Date: 2006-01-22 03:23 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] outcast-xtras.livejournal.com
Kelly's jaw hurts, and her butt hurts from landing on it so hard. The hand on her own cheek moves very subtly to cover the big grin on her face. Corrine's got this coming, from the sounds of it.

Date: 2006-01-22 03:35 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] damage-girl.livejournal.com
Corrine's eyes narrow as she stares at Caleb. "I know you think you're all high and mighty now, Caleb. That's fine."

She crosses her arms over her chest, that indignant little smirk she gets whenever she's angry returning to her face. "Gee, I wonder if Amelia knows you're the one who put her in a coma in the first place? I wonder how she'd take that...? What is it, twelve, thirteen years of her life down the drain? And you get to take all the credit." She shrugs. "Not really surprising, I guess. You have this underlying habit of trying to kill people you... 'love'."

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Corrine Bertrand

October 2009

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