Post by meriadoc jordanna polniaczek on Aug 24, 2012 21:49:00 GMT -5
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OPEN
STATUS:complete
OUTFIT:CLICK
Her day had gone on way too long. She was tired, her hand throbbed beneath the plaster cast, and she had been afraid that she'd broken it again as the tips of her fingers were starting to change color. The day outside seemed like all the others: the sun shone bright outside, the birds tweeted their songs of joy, and the winds were light with barely a wisp of clouds in the bright blue skies above. Doc sat at home, having been put on medical leave until her hand healed. It had been two weeks since she'd broken it in an accident at the shop. She'd been reaching for a wrench that had fallen beneath a suspended car, when the device holding the car malfunctioned and everything came crashing down onto her hand. She hated not being able to work. She loved what she did: fixing and tinkering with various cars, or motorcycles like her own 1976 Honda CB 550F Super Sport motorcycle.
Doc fingered the white gold cross that hung around her neck, sitting back in her desk chair, empty bottles of whiskey, gin and vodka lay around her. She found that the alcohol helped dull the pain in her hand more than any of the drugs given to her by the doctors. She figured that they weren't even real pain pill, but placebos given to her so that she wouldn't have become addicted or whatever. She stared blankly across the room, at the white wall beyond thinking about everything and nothing at all. She'd been cooped up for so long she wondered if anything had really changed in Alpine Heights. With a groan and the eerie creaking of the wooden chair in which she sat, Doc got up and made her way over to the closest window she could find and looked out. Nothing looked as if it had changed, at least not to her. Kids were playing, and people were going about their everyday businesses. It was then that Doc herself would decide that she too would get out of the house and make way into the streets. Maybe she would take a ride on her bike.
Time passed quickly while Doc dressed herself in a faded black tee with a vintage Coca-Cola logo and and overly large arm holes that showed the sides of her yellow bra, camouflage high-waisted shorts, and her favourite pair of biker boots. She'd grabbed her keys and her wallet, and headed for the garage where her bike sat, collecting dust over the days it hadn't been used. Though it was only a motorcycle, Doc felt for the piece of machinery. She loved it more than anything and hated to see it unused for such a long time, but with her hand she found the task of riding it quite difficult, but on a day such as this, with such a need to get out and feel the wind fly through her long dark locks, she couldn't care less what her hand felt like.
Doc dragged the tips of her fingers on her good hand across the black metal and leather seat of the bike, a smile pulling the corner of her dry lips. She could already feel her spirits being lifted, just touching the cool metal and soft leather. With a even bigger grin, Doc mounted the bike and kicked up the stand, drilling the key into the ignition, turning the engine over and speeding off into the streets of Alpine Heights. The wind brushed past her face and caused her hair to whip and blow behind her in one long great wave. Her dark eyes became focused on the roads ahead, all pain from her injured hand forgotten, the plaster surrounding it cracked and bent as she gained a proper grip on the handle bars, not even registering what was happening, until she began to feel light headed and forced herself to stop. Normally she wouldn't be so quick to halt such an exhilarating ride, but when she saw the blood soaked cast and felt she was unable to move her fingers, she knew something was a miss.
Slowly she came to a stop at the strip and with her good hand cut the engine, and used the stand to park her bike. She swallowed hard, staring down at the cast, now more red than white with blood. She couldn't remember how far the hospital was from where she was so she got off her bike and slowly sat down on the curb next to it. She felt her pockets looking for her phone, but only found her wallet. Great; now what was she going to do?
