posted on 5-Apr-2002 10:44:01 AM by caitquel
I don't own Roswell.
PG-13 to R for possible cursing

Sullen Girl

She slumped against the bench, taking one last drag from her cigarette before flicking it unceremoniously on the ground. She really shouldn't be smoking, not after she had sworn she had quit, but the circumstances had become overwhelming lately and had left her dying for a smoke.

It wasn't like anyone here would care, anyway; half of the people milling around the bus station were either holding a cigarette between two fingers in a dangling hand as they kept an impatient eye on the clock, willing it to speed up, or were about to fall on the ground out of sheer exhaustion, too tired to care about anybody else.

Snatching up a magazine left by a person sitting next to her a few minutes earlier, she flipped dully through the pages, looking longingly for some article that would catch her eye. Not interested in the latest fall fashions, she scoped the magazine out one more time before setting it back down on the bench. Maybe some other bored person could be amused by it; she didn't really care.

Settling instead on staring at her watch, she waited tiredly as the hand ticked slowly around the clock. One minute, two minutes, three minutes- and her eyes had completely glazed over. Straining to refocus, she blinked and glanced quickly at the watch again. An hour had passed.

The hard, unforgiving surface of the bench was finally getting to her; she stood up, raising her arms over her head in a casual stretch, yet careful not to allow her midriff to show. Leaning over to pick up a medium-sized messenger bad, serving as her suitcase, she ignored the half-hearted catcall coming from the other side of the dreary station. Not able to gather enough energy to attempt a one-handed response, she didn't even turn to glare at the male. It didn't really matter to her, it was just another weary person crammed into this space trying to find a means of amusing himself.

A glance around the area proved there was not much to explore; a snack bar on wheels, an information desk in the corner, some monks around the corner. She couldn't understand what was holding him up. It should have been a quick drive, no more than twenty minutes, from her past experience.

With a dramatic sigh, she wandered towards the glass wall, gazing out at the sluggish scene before her. Cars passed by, windshield-wipers on, drivers furiously trying to get through with their drive as quickly as possible. Rain drops beat down on the cars, the road, the thin bus station roof. She swayed to the underlying rhythm of the storm. Another catcall made her halt her actions, opting instead for nodding her head to the tempo of the rain.

A tap on her shoulder and she stopped altogether, slowly turning around, as though afraid of what she might see. The man before her nodded solemnly, apologizing for not getting there sooner and sticking a hand forward in an offer to take her luggage. She shook her head slightly and he pulled back, giving her a sad smile that she chose to ignore. He put an arm around her shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze. She chose to ignore it.

The man led her towards the exit before stepping away, explaining that he would get the car so she wouldn't have to get too wet. She nodded in comprehension and he left. The rain kept up its steady beat on the roof. She watched the puddles growing larger in the parking lot as she waited.

[ edited 1 time(s), last at 7-Apr-2002 10:46:37 PM ]
posted on 7-Apr-2002 10:50:59 PM by caitquel

Part Two

She sat up slowly in a bed somewhere, groggily trying to place where she was. This wasn't her bed, her room. Had she- No, she remembered, she was at her uncle's. This was his house, the room that she had stumbled into out of exhaustion when they had gotten back from the station the previous evening late at night.

Tugging a sheet twisted around her body from a fitful sleep, she dragged herself out of the bed and tripped over another sheet, ending up sprawled across the floor. There was a knock on the door. Quickly untangling herself from the blanket, she stood up and murmured a response, resulting in the person outside the room to cautiously open the door.

"You're up," were the first words she heard, and she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes to see the woman who had just entered. It was her aunt, she realized, smiling down at her. "You were too tired for me to say 'hello' last night," the lady continued, "but I wanted to this morning before I left for work."

Realizing she was expected to say or do something, she made her best attempt at a smile. Her aunt seemed satisfied and leaned forward to affectionately rub the younger woman's head, not seeming to notice her niece flinch at the contact. "I'll be back around six. Jeff will be downstairs in the restaurant all day if you need anything." Then, with a wave, she was gone.

The woman sat down on the bed in confusion. What restaurant? She barely remembered anything from the other night; they had gotten in around 5 o'clock. She had barely been awake, not having slept more than nine hours in the past few days.

Finding a clock in the room, she agonized over the time. It was too early to be up, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. It took a certain amount of energy for her to be able to fall back asleep, and she had none. With a groan, she dragged herself off the bed again, taking her time to stretch her limbs; first her arms over her head, then shaking her legs out, and finally rolling her head around.

There were two other doors besides the one her aunt had entered through. Dragging herself over to open one, she was greeted with a closet, empty save some old metal clothes hangers. Having turned towards the other door and trudging over to discover a bathroom complete with towels and a toothbrush, she went about taking a shower and trying to make herself acceptable in case she was compelled to go about in public.

Once finished with her shower and hygiene, she sat back down on the bed, pulling her messenger bag up with her, and began to dig through it. With a triumphant 'yes,' she tugged out flip-flops, a pair of pants, a shirt, a bra, and a pair of panties. Tossing those on the floor beneath her, she continued to rummage through the bag, finally bringing out a small bag which was soon opened and contents dumped out to reveal a pile of makeup.

She slid off the bed, landing delicately beside the clothes she had just unpacked. The woman picked up the pair of faded blue jeans after stepping into the underwear, and slowly stood up to pull on the pants. They were too loose, she thought casually. A size two and they were too large. If she didn't start eating again she would be down to a zero soon.

Quickly bending down to grab the bra and cranberry 3/4-sleeve v-neck she had brought, she hesitantly fingered the former before letting it drop back down on the floor. She didn't want to feel constricted by the tight fabric. Kicking away the bra, she slipped her feet into the sandals beneath it, then took moment to wiggle her toes.

She sauntered over to the bathroom mirror after pulling on her shirt, grasping an assortment of makeup in one hand. The eyeliner went on first, not on the lid, but along the rim; the dark eyeshadow that was her trademark came next; lastly was the clear lipgloss, more of a soft smoothness than the shiny, sticky glosses worn by models.

Standing back to study her reflection, she nodded contentedly; her appearance was decent. The makeup and v-neck gave a flare, but it didn't border on slutty or whorish. She could go out in public without worrying about being kicked out of the house by her aunt and uncle.

Satisfied with herself, she opened the door her aunt had come in through and wandered out into a hallway. After a few minutes of testing doors, she found herself looking down a flight of stairs, obviously standing in the frame of the apartment's entrance. A shelf filled with different bulk-size packages of food stood at the bottom of the stairs and, tiptoeing to the bottom and sticking her head around a brick wall, she spotted various teenage girls dressed up in short aqua dresses holding bustling in and out of a pair of double doors, holding small pads of paper. Coming to the realization that this was most likely the restaurant her aunt had been talking about, she recollected her uncle mentioning to her the previous night that he managed a restaurant.

With her head held confidently, she marched self-assuredly around the corner and towards the doors, which she assumed led to the main area of the restaurant. Sure enough, she soon found out, taking a brief glance through the circular windows encased in the doors, the room on the other side was filled with all sorts of people indulging themselves in greasy food that made her want to wretch.

She spotted her uncle on the other side, walking casually among the tables, talking easily with the customers. Deliberating over whether to head back upstairs or go out into the restaurant, her choice was made for her when someone warning 'watch out' crashed into her from behind and knocked her through the doors. She muttered a quick apology which the waitress probably never heard, already on the other side of the restaurant, serving an old couple waffles.

Hugging her arms about her, she stood outside the doors for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. Soon, though, she was enveloped in a crushing hug, which she made no move to reciprocate. There was a 'hey, kiddo', and she found herself in front of her beaming uncle. "Hi, Jeff," she returned, causing his smile to further widen, if that was possible. He took hold of her wrist gently, and suddenly she was being dragged from table to table, being introduced to various old couples.

Half an hour later she was sitting at the counter in front of an untouched glass of orange juice. She had never known the elderly could be so tiring. Question after question regarding her age, where she had moved from, if she liked the town had been answered, and although she had done her best to appear polite and courteous, it had begun to get to her. She didn't have anything against old people, but they could be nosy at times, wanting to know other people's life story to spice up their own dull lives. There had been one lady that had been genuinely friendly towards her, but the rest had simply treated her as though she weren't alive, instead asking her uncle their questions. She couldn't really blame them; they were probably used to not getting a response from teenagers and assumed that the only way to receive information would be through another adult.

"You look p.o.'d," a feminine voice informed her. She looked up in confusion at the blond before her. The girl, dressed up in one of the aqua uniforms, couldn't be much younger than her. "Pissed off," she was told. "But P.O.'d is easier. I'm Maria, by the way. Jeff told me you're his niece," the character went on, sticking a hand forward. She shook it. "I think we bumped into one another earlier," the waitress told her, motioning with her head towards the double doors."

She nodded. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem. Look," the other woman smiled, "Maybe we can get together sometime, I'll show you the sites, introduce you to some people, give you the scratch on the town."

"The 'scratch'?" she asked in amusement.

The girl tilted her head slightly. "I thought Jeff said you were from New York City." She nodded in confirmation. "The scratch, the dig, the info, " the waitress explained. Not getting a response, "Don't all New Yorkers talk like that?"

She worked to keep the smile off her face. "Not the people I hung with." 'Or the people I didn't,' she added silently. "I think I'm going to head back up," she excused herself, sliding off the stool. "I'll see you around, Maria."