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Viewing Single Post From: You Gave Up Being Good When You Declared a State of War
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Null sheen.
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((Toby continued from The Cuckoo's Calling))

Toby hadn't slept much. What little had been snatched had been near enough force of habit from the days looking after the kids, studying, kids, studying, exercise... her schedule had beaten into her to steal somerest when she was able to. It's just that didn't come along too much. Always too much to do. Always too much on the schedule. Sucked, that way. She'd wound up curled in a little alcove in a bleak and dank corridor somewhere in the asylum, cold and aching, but at least able to lie down.

Maybe a tiny little fragment of her thoughts were clinging to the old-fashioned notion that things would look better in the morning.

Ha. Hahaha. Ha.

Abby had killed herself. One of her best friends, maybe even one of her two closest friends. This experience, this... place had been too much for her. She- Toby didn't want to dwell on the reasons. She didn't want to understand, or even really try to understand. Abby was a kindly, caring person - the person who more than anyone else would try to make Toby slow down, spend a little time caring for herself than everything else in her life and-

She was gone. Dead.


Toby didn't cry. Wouldn't cry. She wanted to scream. Would've done, if not for the other worry.

Because, other than Abby - and thinking about her tore away at her resilience, over and over and over - other than Abby - there were killers, not just suicides.

Toby wasn't naive enough to call all that death accidental. Kimiko. Isabel? Once, one person, then maybe... but more than one incident, and in Isabel's case, multiple murders...

No. Deliberate. Premeditated.

Half of Toby wanted to be sick again. Except perhaps it wasn't half, perhaps it was less than half as, bit by bit, it sank away into a boiling, seething rage. How dare they. How could they? If not for people like that - and Toby might have known them before but that was then and this was now, then maybe Abby would still be alive. Maybe Toby wouldn't be standing here staring down the barrel of a world without that smile and sincere affection and goodness.

Too late. Too, fucking, late.

Voices, from an open door up ahead. Prickles ran down Toby's spine. Had she heard any of those before? ...Wait, that tone, that cocky drawl... Great.

Jerry Fury. Not who she wanted to see right now, but...

Well, he knew Travis too, and right now Travis - or even the idea of Travis - was what was keeping her together long enough to actually concentrate on something other than her blinding, white-hat anger. Maybe Jerry would know a little more than her.

She took a step forward, put a hand on the wall, just before the door. She could see the frame, but not inside - not who Jerry was talking to, nor he himself.

"Hey in there," soft, but enough to carry. "It's Toby."
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