[ it isn't home, she doesn't say. but that's really neither here nor there. Allison looks like a lot of things, but mostly she looks like she's in motion. hasn't figured out where she's going to end up.
Hayley's never liked unpredictability. ]
7months. the oldest people here, next jump, will have been here for a year.
[ is it worse to be here or where they belong? she misses her dad but she can almost be the girl she was before everything fell apart (if she allows it). ]
does it bother you, knowing you could be here for a year?
[ she spends too much time looking at her communicator before she replies. the thing is- Hayley isn't much for honesty, but that doesn't mean she doesn't try for it. she thinks a little about her parents and her kindof friends- the half planned life that she'd mapped out. she thinks about the people she'd find, how many she would've put down by now.
maybe it's better here, away from that. maybe it's worse, not to do the one thing that made her feel like anything had meaning.
but somewhere in all of that is the knot. a heavy awareness that she really doesn't know if it bothers her. but maybe that's her answer. ]
[ she wants to say she's sorry but she thinks it so often that seeing it spelled out on her screen feels cheap, like less. and maybe it isn't anything to feel empathetic about. people rebuild their lives all the time, turn their back on what they knew and move on.
in the face of such honesty, she doesn't feel like she can be anything less.
Allison loves her father and she worries about Scott, and Stiles, and of course about Lydia. but some of those people are already here. ]
i'm not sure i have anything good waiting for me at home.
[ she thinks about what she could say. about comfort and hope, and hanging in and all of those things that people say to her. that people are supposed to say. and instead her mouth just quirks, and Hayley bunkers down into her chair before she taps out the reply. ]
well-
there definitely won't be anything good waiting for you here :)
comforting, really. has anyone ever told you that you should work with children?
[ oh, you want to be a doctor? please, you couldn't even be a cashier with that brain. but Allison laughs regardless. the blatancy will knock your teeth out but because it's so appalling, it knocks her back into reality. ]
[ can she just say how great it is to have a normal conversation with a human that doesn't revolve around: where is it and how do we kill it before it kills us? ]
are you kidding? i love candy why would i share that?
so speaking of once or never. what's the plan, for you know, before all of this? you're in highschool, right? or you're just a really petite university student. or a freakishly tall 6th grader. judgement free zone here.
to skip hoarding all of the cavities that come with it?
a judgement free zone that uses the word freakish. i see that happening. and you were right the first time, about high school. i'm seventeen. just trying to survive all the drama. ...and then some.
well that doesn't sound mysterious at all. no way.
and yeah. i was. am? am sounds like i plan on getting back. and all things considered? pretty much come to terms with the fact that california is probably the last place i'm gonna end back up.
i don't like jumping to conclusions. maybe they die. maybe they go home. but there are worse things than death and no guarantee for what really happens.
it sounds awful to say i'd rather assume they were home or dead but it beats thinking they're trapped somewhere in rooms we can't get to. suffering who knows what. have you ever explored that possibility? i mean, gone looking. does anyone bother?
If the words, Lydia, I'm in the Oxygen Garden, or Lydia, I'm heading down there right now aren't the reply I get to this text, I am going to probably yell at you.
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