Her lungs felt as if they couldn’t get enough air, like she had to swallow deep gulps to get anything. It didn’t help that the room was round—no points, no corners, just… tube. Her next exhale was louder than the rest and pitched with a brief whine. How she hated that; hated this. All of it was just…
When his soothing voice came over the line more of the cloud cleared—nightmares began to recede slowly. Her chest felt lighter, but it wasn’t enough to ease the rapid rhythm of her heart rate. It felt as though it was going to burst right out of her chest. Her head ached with it—with the overload and the panic. But she could hear him; she could hear his voice. If he just kept talking and she kept her eyes open—however awful that was—it would be alright.
Hopefully.
“I know,” she replied. “It’s me.” Another slow inhale; another slow exhale. She shut her eyes and let it out before opening them again and pushing the memories away. “I’m no’ ‘urt,” she admitted. “Just… cocked up… cocked up real good, luv.”
It figured that flirting and dirty talk would land her in steel cell. Not a bar fight, not speeding in a ‘borrowed’ car, not siphoning off partial chits from accounts into her own—because no one fucking used them, and not any number of idiotic pranks that made her chuckle and kept life interesting.
No, fucking flirting and sending porno pics of herself to a man whose code made her feel like she was reading Byron or Donne. It was enough to make her bark laughter, but she couldn’t manage it—throat too tight and chest too heavy.
“Cor… I’m tryin’…” she exhaled all at once, hands tightening their hold briefly as she focused on the wall—on the grey color. Just a color; no’ a wall. She tried to make the information stop—the stream of calculations and urgings for her to remove herself from the shaft. But it wouldn’t; not until he said something else—something that made her blink. It made the numbers cease for a time.
She suddenly found the will to bark laughter—rich and almost enough to fill the air. It would have been the kind that made teeth show and sides ache. For her though, at that moment, it came out a little strained and gentle. “Like those, did you?” she said, unable and unwilling to keep the soft smile out of her voice. “Make one your wallpaper?” she asked next, voice cocky despite the situation. “Nearly wanked one off when I ‘eard your voice—nearly commed in to ‘ave you finish the job.” More soft laughter. “You owe me pics, Code Slinger.”
It was difficult not to fall back fully into the walls, the ones that rippled before her eyes in a way that wasn’t real. She kept her hands from shaking by merely holding on, but she knew she’d eventually have to stand up—or at least try. She’d been here before, after all. She couldn’t stay here.
“Keep talkin’,” she let out in one breath just before he did. She didn’t know what the cussing meant. Didn’t try and figure it out as she focused on her knees next. Knees were good; night vision allowed her to see those—her hands as she shakily lifted them before snapping them down over said knees. White knuckles gripped when he ordered her to look up.
“Rage…” she said, once again forcing herself to speak as she looked up with a swallow. The numbers came back then, the calculations. Geometric lines writ across transparent screens in front of her eyes, measuring distance again and giving her answers that made more sense now. “..Should ‘ave a name to go with those pics, yeah? S’Rage.”
When his soothing voice came over the line more of the cloud cleared—nightmares began to recede slowly. Her chest felt lighter, but it wasn’t enough to ease the rapid rhythm of her heart rate. It felt as though it was going to burst right out of her chest. Her head ached with it—with the overload and the panic. But she could hear him; she could hear his voice. If he just kept talking and she kept her eyes open—however awful that was—it would be alright.
Hopefully.
“I know,” she replied. “It’s me.” Another slow inhale; another slow exhale. She shut her eyes and let it out before opening them again and pushing the memories away. “I’m no’ ‘urt,” she admitted. “Just… cocked up… cocked up real good, luv.”
It figured that flirting and dirty talk would land her in steel cell. Not a bar fight, not speeding in a ‘borrowed’ car, not siphoning off partial chits from accounts into her own—because no one fucking used them, and not any number of idiotic pranks that made her chuckle and kept life interesting.
No, fucking flirting and sending porno pics of herself to a man whose code made her feel like she was reading Byron or Donne. It was enough to make her bark laughter, but she couldn’t manage it—throat too tight and chest too heavy.
“Cor… I’m tryin’…” she exhaled all at once, hands tightening their hold briefly as she focused on the wall—on the grey color. Just a color; no’ a wall. She tried to make the information stop—the stream of calculations and urgings for her to remove herself from the shaft. But it wouldn’t; not until he said something else—something that made her blink. It made the numbers cease for a time.
She suddenly found the will to bark laughter—rich and almost enough to fill the air. It would have been the kind that made teeth show and sides ache. For her though, at that moment, it came out a little strained and gentle. “Like those, did you?” she said, unable and unwilling to keep the soft smile out of her voice. “Make one your wallpaper?” she asked next, voice cocky despite the situation. “Nearly wanked one off when I ‘eard your voice—nearly commed in to ‘ave you finish the job.” More soft laughter. “You owe me pics, Code Slinger.”
It was difficult not to fall back fully into the walls, the ones that rippled before her eyes in a way that wasn’t real. She kept her hands from shaking by merely holding on, but she knew she’d eventually have to stand up—or at least try. She’d been here before, after all. She couldn’t stay here.
“Keep talkin’,” she let out in one breath just before he did. She didn’t know what the cussing meant. Didn’t try and figure it out as she focused on her knees next. Knees were good; night vision allowed her to see those—her hands as she shakily lifted them before snapping them down over said knees. White knuckles gripped when he ordered her to look up.
“Rage…” she said, once again forcing herself to speak as she looked up with a swallow. The numbers came back then, the calculations. Geometric lines writ across transparent screens in front of her eyes, measuring distance again and giving her answers that made more sense now. “..Should ‘ave a name to go with those pics, yeah? S’Rage.”
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~
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