Post by Deleted on Mar 18, 2016 5:00:43 GMT
 | I AM NO LONGER A LIABILITY I AM A WARRIOR SAME AS YOU ONCE WERE tagged Eric Powell |
Harper’s eyes were cast down as she watched arkers unload the spoils from Mount Weather. There was food, medical supplies and all sorts of stuff they really did need—but as they unloaded the piano and art pieces she couldn’t help wincing. That wasn’t important, was it? She did her best to stand by and help unload the truck, but seeing the familiar images of the darkest part of her life was hardly what she would call a good time. Quite the opposite actually. Still she had a duty to do. Being a guard didn’t always mean doing rounds and keeping the peace. Sometimes it meant doing the grunt work...
Though while she helped unload some canned goods, she couldn’t help getting distracted. There was a large painting of a white horse, running through the waves on a beach. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t why she stopped to stare. It was a painting they had on the wall in the medical wing. When they strapped you down and kept you on your back so that they could drill into you kneecaps, it was the only thing to look at—and god knew she couldn’t look away now. She stared for a long moment before taking a long breath; expelling the memories from her brain, though she saw pretty quickly that she wasn’t the only one taken by the image.
Eric—another delinquent she’d spent some time with had been through everything she had. They drilled him so much in one sitting they were probably surprised he didn’t die like some of the others... but he hadn’t looked away. “Move it,” Harper said to the two that were unloading it. “Put it somewhere else.” Nobody questioned her—which she was used to. She hopped off the back of the truck and approached Eric cautiously. “You okay?” she asked him, hoping to pull his attention away.
Though while she helped unload some canned goods, she couldn’t help getting distracted. There was a large painting of a white horse, running through the waves on a beach. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t why she stopped to stare. It was a painting they had on the wall in the medical wing. When they strapped you down and kept you on your back so that they could drill into you kneecaps, it was the only thing to look at—and god knew she couldn’t look away now. She stared for a long moment before taking a long breath; expelling the memories from her brain, though she saw pretty quickly that she wasn’t the only one taken by the image.
Eric—another delinquent she’d spent some time with had been through everything she had. They drilled him so much in one sitting they were probably surprised he didn’t die like some of the others... but he hadn’t looked away. “Move it,” Harper said to the two that were unloading it. “Put it somewhere else.” Nobody questioned her—which she was used to. She hopped off the back of the truck and approached Eric cautiously. “You okay?” she asked him, hoping to pull his attention away.
