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Everyday Neurosis.

Published by Eaveah Tail in the blog Eaveah Tail's blog. Views: 119

This is part of my project. It's very scary for me to post it, but here goes.

Pain helps. Not the kind where you cut yourself, she didn't like the idea of the scars being therefor the rest of her life. But the pain of having a part of her body pierced by a needle. Putting in a piece of jewlery to fill the piece of ugly. Or having a different type of needle push into her skin fifty times a second to reveal a beautiful image or meaningful words. It was a relief to feel the pain on the outside instead of the inside, and wtch it become something productive, something to serve a purpose. Like a tattoo or a piercing. For the duration of the process she could let the pain wash over her freely, without it breaking her.

Anxiety was grumbling in the back of her mind, it was a loophole he hadn't counted on. Lachlan was more than a little smug about that, and inwardly grinned at him. She might pay for that later, but she didn't care. It was worth it. She mindlessly fiddled with her new piercing while mulling her thoughts over in her head. The bus and Anxiety both jerking her from side to side in the turns. She's on her way home to her tiny flat in the east of town.

As far as capital cities in the world go, Oslo was fairly safe and a good place to live. But the part of town she resided in currently was admittedly, dodgy. She had been pretty sure she had stepped in some blood on her way home the other day. But that might have been Imagination playing tricks on her since she'd been on the phone with her mother some minutes before, she'd been kind enough to inform Lachlan that there had been reports of gunshots in the area Lachlan lived. But she was still convinced it had been blood. Imagination grinned innocently at her while Anxiety scoffs. Norway being a very small country, mostly filled with mountains and forests, has a population of about six million people. And so statistics for things like murder is fairly low. About one point five murders a year in fact. Lachlan takes a moment to wonder how that works before shrugging off the thought.

Anyway, she thinks to herself. Her area of town might be a little dodgy. But it's a place to live. A place that's hers. Blinking she realises two things at once, One, she's not supposed to touch the new piercing and two, next stop is hers. Getting up she makes sure to hols on tight to the handgrips hanging from the ceiling of the bus. The Oslo busdrivers have been known to send little old ladies flying when they realise it's time to push the pedal next to the gas. Grunting a little as the bus jerks to a stop, the brakes whining loudly, like they're really annoyed, she gets out.

The doors squeak shut behind her and the Italian designed bus drives off towards it's next destination. Lachlan wraps her thick brown winter coat around herself and starts making her way down the path towards home, gently avoiding the spot she thought she saw the blood while thinking vaguely of the idiocy of the government getting busses from Italy, which is no where near the same climate, to Norway that has been known to be well below -30 degrees celcius in winter. It's only the beginning of winter now, but she can already feel the rime in her nose from the cold air. Heralding another eight months of cold and darkness.
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