A little nothing.

[miss-electra.livejournal.com]

Just a little character piece, only a few paragraphs, on one of my Lost PCs.



I shrug out of the dress, pulling my nightgown on at the same time, so there's no chance of catching cold or showing anything in appropriate. Smoothing the wrinkles out of it with one hand, I fold it in half, laying it over a chair to launder when I get really home.

My petticoat stands up on its own for a minute. I kick it in a fit of petulance, the layers of crisply starched cotton rustling against my toe. I want, desperately, to pull the pictures of the wall. To rip the pillow to pieces. To scream and shout and kick until I'm visible.

Instead I sit on the edge of the bed. I carefully strip Pansy out of her dress, and slip her night gown over her head. Then I reach for the silver backed brush, and methodically pass it over my hair. I do it exactly one hundred times. I can feel the weight of the tears welling up in my eyes, and I close them, forcing the tears to go somewhere else.

I brush Pansy's hair too. It wouldn't do to have her in disarray.

Then we climb under the blankets in the guest room, pulling them up to our very chin. Looking out the window at the moonbeams, I sigh softly.

Still the invisible girl