Lying to herself// Liquor's top shelf (luke)
Sept 27, 2012 19:55:37 GMT -5
Post by cyrus on Sept 27, 2012 19:55:37 GMT -5
Narration
Thoughts
Speech
Other’s speech
Exclamations
“Be a doll and pour me ‘nother, Ollie?” Melrose Humplots hung over the bar, her tits nearly popping out of the flannel shirt that clung to the curves of her body. A flash of white revealed a grin that made most men in the bar swoon—because she still had most of them—and with a hand up above her chin, gave them the slight chance that something might just slip out into view. As Ollie unscrewed the whiskey she gave a glance at the targets occupying the Bloody Bucket that afternoon. Just the same collection of geezers,
It wasn’t as if she would curse her luck being born in District 10. There was good, salt of the earth people here, even if the earth cracked open into pieces and the flies swirled around the horse and pig shit that lined the dirt roads. Smelled like death, and half the time through the dust and heat, the people looked like it, too. Her father, a man with few hairs on his head and almost as few teeth would walk along with her to the market sometimes, pointing out how sorry their lot was. His tanned skin showed the stress fifty-some-odd years had given him in the District, but unlike so many, he never hung his head in shame. Just kept livin’, kept tryin’ to provide.[/color] Even when Melrose started her rebellious phase—when she started finding men that would give her things and take her in for nights of fun—he never clucked his tongue like the neighbors. Just left her to her own mistakes and failures. After all, with five other children to take care of, he wasn’t in the business of spending too much time on any one of them.
It had been his words that prompted her to head down this path in the first place. When they’d stood in line at the general store, and an older gentleman couldn’t even afford a bag of flower and some eggs, the rest in the store did nothing to help him along. In the light Melrose could see the hunger in his face, the sadness in the lines that revealed he’d work hard enough to live this long, so why did it matter now that things were turning out so poorly? There were mutters about it—that he should’ve known better, what things cost, that he should’ve worked harder to get what he needed—and he’d left, hanging his head in shame. Her father paid at the till and they trotted along outside. He shook his head as they walked back up the road, licking his lips and pulling at his overalls.
“It ain’t no disgrace to be poor, but it might as well be…” He muttered under his breath before letting out a sigh. It struck Melrose then, to think back at all the times that they had been so close to going hungry. She imagined her brothers taking out tesserae so that they could have more in the winter, and how many times she’d prayed that it wasn’t their names in the jar after the mutton they’d managed to pay for, or the eggs they’d needed to stretch out the weeks a little longer. Because giving then was more important than just doing nothing at all.[/color] But she’d seen the disgrace—she’d felt the heaviness in knowing that they were poor as s—t and weren’t nobody that was gonna come to their aid. They had to depend on one another to decide—only way they ever made it through—and for it, she’d do everything in her power to make sure it stayed that way.
So why was it a problem when she got nice things from older gentlemen? They were the men that treated her right, the ones that didn’t play rough when hiding the pickle or figuring out was a reverse cowboy really meant. They’d told her how pretty she was and in the moonlight sometimes she believed them—that they loved her for what she was, for her youth, and that this was something that she could use to provide. And they would shower her in trinkets, in baubles, and sometimes even jewelry of dead wives or relationships gone sour. And if she could provide, if she could get by, it weren’t disgraceful at all.[/color]
Big Ollie tipped his head before placing the glass in her hands. She gave a wink back in return before leaning back against the bar and hoisting up her chest. The smile on her face wilted as soon as Tallow’s shadow crossed the swinging doors of the saloon. A moment passed when she thought she might have up and left, and perhaps not done anything at all. The usually boisterous Melrose was anything but herself lately, but she contended that she was simply under the weather. No, there were other things on her mind then as she stopped listening to the conversations swirling around her. The collective smoke and sweat changed back to the memory of a few weeks ago, when she’d been leaving Jaspers and cut across the front of the Poers’ ranch. It was a ritual she’d done a few times before, never having bothered too much to keep a low profile on account of Elias usually being dead asleep by that point.
It was the scream that she would always remember. The shiver that went down her spine wasn’t from the night air against her glistening skin, but rather the muffled screams of a little boy in Elias’ grip. She’d watched as he debased and defiled him, he’d shoved himself inside and caused him to gag. And all the while Tallow Tansy had stood watching as though the scene were pure theatre. The agony of his expression had caused her fists to clench—she’d wanted to strike him down then and there. But I ain’t strong enough[/color] , she knew, And it ain’t my business…[/color] Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be. This was Elias’ doing, and Tallow’s, and she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But what you want to think about this moment then, Mel?[/color] She watched as the two kissed while the boy was bleeding out on the floor. You want to say to your chillens that you saw somethin’ awful, and it weren’t your business? That you ain’t nothing but shit, and that’s all you’ll ever be, on account of how you had a chance to do somethin’ different but didn’t? ‘Cause you could walk away right now and wash your hands… or you can hitch up your skirt and do somethin’ about it.[/color] She waited until they had gone up the stairs before pressing herself against the door. Drawing her cloak around her body, rose red, her favorite of any colors, she twisted the knob, her hand shaking.
He wasn’t awake when she’d taken him in her arms, and thought that this was as close to death as she’d ever been. But in that moment she didn’t hesitate or think that there was anywhere else she could’ve been. She’d whispered to him sweetly, brushing back his hair before hoisting him up in her arms. He was a right little thing, a waif of a boy, and didn’t take much effort for a farm girl to take up. Even if Elias were the most powerful man in the district—even if he might have decided then and there that he was going to do the same thing to her, she wasn’t going to cut and run. Because when you see someone in need, you don’t just do nothin’…[/color] It weren’t no disgrace for her to be poor. She could still be wise, or beautiful… or even brave.
“Don’t think I ever seen you in here, Tansy…” Melrose hissed. She swirled around her drink and gave a little wave. “’S been a while since I seen you anywhere… you know, just all these… words goin’ around about you. After the fair and all, think you must be the most popular girl in this district…” With a snort she flipped her hair back behind her shoulder. “But golly anyone that Elias picks to win that pageant is just asking for it. Bet he asked to f—k you right afters, ‘swhat he does to all the girls. Hope you took care of yourself now…” She muttered.
“There are plenty of other men much bettern’ him anyway…” Melrose motioned to the lot in the Bloody Bucket. “Course they aren’t always so interested in girls that… well, you know…” She left it at that. Let her think I know all about her brother fuckin’, or whatever, whoever, all those terrible things that she does. [/color][/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/justify]