geeky_agent (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
geeky_agent) wrote2005-07-16 06:18 pm
geeky_agent) wrote2005-07-16 06:18 pm
Bound
She rolls from her side to her back. Sleeping on her side is uncomfortable now with her new...appendages. Flat, muscled appendages on each side. Fins. 
Chris buries her face in her pillow. No. I'm just not thinking about it.
Sleeping on her stomach isn't much better. It's hell on her lower back. She tries to shift but finds that she can't move her legs, at least, not apart. Still tired, still wanting to sleep, she moves a few more times but her legs feel as if they're almost bound together. When she tries to move them apart it's almost a pinching sensation through both legs.
Frustrated now, she turns over and sits up in bed. She takes off the covers and doesn't understand what she sees.
There's a light grayish-blue tissue binding her legs. It's thin, she can make out the shape of her two legs underneath but it's strong. She runs her hands across it and it's smooth, like most membrane surfaces.
It's my skin.
She rebels against the idea but runs her nails across her thigh sharply. It itches and even stings in some parts where she drew blood.
No, no, no, no... Something between a strangled scream and a growl rips through her throat. She claws at her legs and all it does is rip the skin but the binding remains. Chris moves and swings her legs over the bedside. She tries to stand but only falls on her side.
She lays there quiet, the hysteria fading into desolation. She gulps a bit, feeling the tears slide down her cheek but tries to compose herself.
Then she remembers the scissors in her nightable drawer.
Chris sits up and reaches around in the drawer until she finds them. Clutching them in her hand, like a dagger, she starts near her feet. Slowly, carefully, she pushes the scissors through to the floor. It's uncomfortable but not painful. Tilting the scissors back, she drags them through her skin in a quick motion, teeth clenched. She reaches her knees before she stops. The scissors drop to the floor.
There's blood.
Logically, she knows it's not a lot but it looks like a lot.
This is insane. What am I doing?
She moves her legs and the skin still covering them stretches and stings. Chris hits the floor with her fist and picks up the scissors. This is too much. I need to be able to move.
A few more deep breaths with her eyes closed and then she feels ready.
She slices the skin the rest of the way, letting out a small yelp when she cuts the skin on her inner thigh.
Chris drops the scissors and rests back on the bed. There's more blood but it's starting to clot already. Her legs raw, like they've been burnt. Another deep breath which she lets out slowly.
She feels better somehow.
Chris buries her face in her pillow. No. I'm just not thinking about it.
Sleeping on her stomach isn't much better. It's hell on her lower back. She tries to shift but finds that she can't move her legs, at least, not apart. Still tired, still wanting to sleep, she moves a few more times but her legs feel as if they're almost bound together. When she tries to move them apart it's almost a pinching sensation through both legs.
Frustrated now, she turns over and sits up in bed. She takes off the covers and doesn't understand what she sees.
There's a light grayish-blue tissue binding her legs. It's thin, she can make out the shape of her two legs underneath but it's strong. She runs her hands across it and it's smooth, like most membrane surfaces.
It's my skin.
She rebels against the idea but runs her nails across her thigh sharply. It itches and even stings in some parts where she drew blood.
No, no, no, no... Something between a strangled scream and a growl rips through her throat. She claws at her legs and all it does is rip the skin but the binding remains. Chris moves and swings her legs over the bedside. She tries to stand but only falls on her side.
She lays there quiet, the hysteria fading into desolation. She gulps a bit, feeling the tears slide down her cheek but tries to compose herself.
Then she remembers the scissors in her nightable drawer.
Chris sits up and reaches around in the drawer until she finds them. Clutching them in her hand, like a dagger, she starts near her feet. Slowly, carefully, she pushes the scissors through to the floor. It's uncomfortable but not painful. Tilting the scissors back, she drags them through her skin in a quick motion, teeth clenched. She reaches her knees before she stops. The scissors drop to the floor.
There's blood.
Logically, she knows it's not a lot but it looks like a lot.
This is insane. What am I doing?
She moves her legs and the skin still covering them stretches and stings. Chris hits the floor with her fist and picks up the scissors. This is too much. I need to be able to move.
A few more deep breaths with her eyes closed and then she feels ready.
She slices the skin the rest of the way, letting out a small yelp when she cuts the skin on her inner thigh.
Chris drops the scissors and rests back on the bed. There's more blood but it's starting to clot already. Her legs raw, like they've been burnt. Another deep breath which she lets out slowly.
She feels better somehow.
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"I'm sorry." Chris isn't sorry for what she did but she is sorry for upsetting Elaine.
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She rubs her eyes. "Do you have pain, with that? I cannot imagine that it doesn't hurt," she asks in concern.
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She feels so horribly helpless, and just prays very hard that Ryan and the others come back safely and that the cure is able to be made quickly.
She doesn't intend to leave the room again until it's over.