Molly Stearns (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
losttheright) wrote2016-01-06 09:08 pm
losttheright) wrote2016-01-06 09:08 pm
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A few days after New Year's, things go back to normal.
Well, for a given value of the word, anyway. There aren't animals roaming the city, out for blood anymore; she can go to and from work without worrying that she's about to get attacked by something. She might even be able to start getting more than a few hours of sleep every night. Actually normal, though, is still the long way off. Her boss is still in the hospital, and though he'll be fine physically, hasn't been taking well emotionally to the loss of his eye. Two out of six city council members are dead. It's going to be a long time before things are functioning the way they used to, and Molly is acutely aware of it, unbelievably fucking exhausted, barely able to wrap her head around everything going on. She can focus on work while she's doing it, but that's about all she can do, or, at least, all she's been able to do before now. Things are starting to settle. The most they can do from here is try to pick up the pieces.
Part of doing so is thinking ahead, now that she can. Both Phyllis and Amit's funerals will be next week, and as much as she can't stand the thought of it, there's not really any way she can get out of being there for both. And with both in such quick succession, no matter how awful she feels for considering it, she probably can't get away with wearing the same dress to both. Being at least pretty sure that it's safe now, she goes to the mall after work with that in mind, trying to ignore the way her stomach turns. She hates funerals, inevitably winds up thinking about what hers must have been like when the subject comes up, which doesn't help matters any when the deaths themselves are so upsetting. Phyllis had a family, kids who'll grow up now without their mother. Amit may have been kind of a douchebag, but he was smart, and five fucking years younger than her. Regardless, no one deserves to go like that anyway.
She's just headed inside, trying to figure out where she should start looking for a dress, when her phone goes off in her pocket, and the message on the screen makes her go pale. Orrin Fillby has been found dead on the floor of his apartment, the side of his neck bitten out by his myna bird the night before. No one thought to look before now. The very idea of it is so fucked up that for a moment all she can do is stand there, stunned, not even realizing that she's frozen in the middle of a shopping mall.
Well, for a given value of the word, anyway. There aren't animals roaming the city, out for blood anymore; she can go to and from work without worrying that she's about to get attacked by something. She might even be able to start getting more than a few hours of sleep every night. Actually normal, though, is still the long way off. Her boss is still in the hospital, and though he'll be fine physically, hasn't been taking well emotionally to the loss of his eye. Two out of six city council members are dead. It's going to be a long time before things are functioning the way they used to, and Molly is acutely aware of it, unbelievably fucking exhausted, barely able to wrap her head around everything going on. She can focus on work while she's doing it, but that's about all she can do, or, at least, all she's been able to do before now. Things are starting to settle. The most they can do from here is try to pick up the pieces.
Part of doing so is thinking ahead, now that she can. Both Phyllis and Amit's funerals will be next week, and as much as she can't stand the thought of it, there's not really any way she can get out of being there for both. And with both in such quick succession, no matter how awful she feels for considering it, she probably can't get away with wearing the same dress to both. Being at least pretty sure that it's safe now, she goes to the mall after work with that in mind, trying to ignore the way her stomach turns. She hates funerals, inevitably winds up thinking about what hers must have been like when the subject comes up, which doesn't help matters any when the deaths themselves are so upsetting. Phyllis had a family, kids who'll grow up now without their mother. Amit may have been kind of a douchebag, but he was smart, and five fucking years younger than her. Regardless, no one deserves to go like that anyway.
She's just headed inside, trying to figure out where she should start looking for a dress, when her phone goes off in her pocket, and the message on the screen makes her go pale. Orrin Fillby has been found dead on the floor of his apartment, the side of his neck bitten out by his myna bird the night before. No one thought to look before now. The very idea of it is so fucked up that for a moment all she can do is stand there, stunned, not even realizing that she's frozen in the middle of a shopping mall.
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