Exact [Open]
Oct 15, 2014 11:37:36 GMT -5
Post by Ailera on Oct 15, 2014 11:37:36 GMT -5
Brighde Faust
I didn’t know if I was really supposed to be out this time. Either way, I was going to do what I thought I needed to do whether it was a real task or not. The woman ended up taking me back, which I was very surprised at her doing. Most people were glad to be rid of me after they called me insane a few times and probably went home to pout that they could not see the things I saw. Sure, it could be a little upsetting sometimes if Faust was bothering me, or the things I saw had to do with pain, or disgust, or something similar, such as very macabre things I wish I could unsee. I don’t think I will ever get away from those images though, since Faust seems to be the only part of my life that never changes, or leaves. Of course, he never calls me crazy. One of the things that I like about him. He would never call me crazy, even if he really wanted a reaction out of me. Let him taunt me and trick me, so long as he never doubted my sanity. That would be something I am little too sensitive about. It can be difficult to always assume people are jealous when they say that I am just a crazy girl with a lot of problems. I don’t have any problems except the ones the capitolites provided for me, such as the missing tongue problem and the additions to Faust’s abuse. Now I had more than one person constantly yelling at me. Gosh, do I realize how confused I must sound right now! I briefly imagine someone reading my thoughts. No, normal people couldn’t do that. I could do it sometimes, if Faust decided to let me, but usually people thought things that didn’t match up to them.
I wasn’t going for clothes this time. Just a bag of flour, and that was it. I doubted Faust would try to take a bag of flour, since he wasn’t exactly interested in baking or anything. Of course, he didn’t wear women’s clothing either. I try to ignore the notion and keep walking. This was the first time in a while I could walk through the capitol without all of the people looking like animals of some kind. This time they just looked like their normal weird selves, and I did not need to wonder if the images were created by Faust or the capitolites. They all looked weird, so there needed to be no definition between them. I remember when I first came here and thought everything was made by Faust, but eventually I realized some of the things here were done on purpose. That automatically made me more comfortable. I thought that would mean more people like me that could see the special things. It just meant they were a whole lot more judgmental when they found out I could see them. People did not take well to my written descriptions of Faust eating all those half rotting squirrels that one afternoon in the kitchen. No one believed me when I suffered with tar on my face for six months. I could barely see, and they still made me work normally! Even that skeptical doctor didn’t notice, or maybe he purposely overlooked it. I reach up to touch my face, feeling the tender skin and wondering if maybe it was another one of the things Faust created to trick me. Sometimes the things he did weren’t real. Those were the more frustrating ones to figure out, and they cost me my job sometimes.
When I reach the grocery store, and someone does not approach me, I immediately turn to look for flour myself. I had money, so I could get the flour without the help of a grocer to find it. I scan the isle titles for baking supplies, and finally wind up walking down a very long isle with different powders. The flour section was large enough, with many brands and sizes. I couldn’t figure out which one to get, so I grabbed one that looked fancy and adjusted it on my side. It was heavy, but it was pretty, so the woman would probably appreciate it. I didn’t know yet what kind of things she usually liked. I would learn later, if I could stay with her for longer than three months, which tended to be my peak time of staying with a person. I glance around the isle and begin to walk down the right side, towards the front, where I assumed the cash register would be. I wait in line behind a giant sized rabbit, trying to resist the urge to stroke its fur, and once it hops away I take its place in the line in front of the bored looking woman at the register. I put the flour down and she scans it. “Thirty one,” she says, and I furrow my eyebrows. That didn’t sound right. It sounded way too expensive to be the price of flower. I peer over the counter to look at the number, and she turns the screen up so I can see it. It really was thirty one. I look around and put one finger up. I pick up the bag and race back to the isle with flour in it, where I set the bag back in place. I needed to look for a cheaper bag of flour.
I didn’t shop for groceries. It wasn’t my job, it was the other avox’s job, but she was busy today and the woman thought I should try going out again. Now that I had tried I realized I was horrible at it. I looked over all the flour bags, clueless as to how to figure out how much they cost. There wasn’t any price tag or reference nearby. After I give up looking for a price tag, I tap on someone nearby. I gesture towards the bags. Looking clueless was easy – I already was. I hope that they chose to understand and help me.
I wasn’t going for clothes this time. Just a bag of flour, and that was it. I doubted Faust would try to take a bag of flour, since he wasn’t exactly interested in baking or anything. Of course, he didn’t wear women’s clothing either. I try to ignore the notion and keep walking. This was the first time in a while I could walk through the capitol without all of the people looking like animals of some kind. This time they just looked like their normal weird selves, and I did not need to wonder if the images were created by Faust or the capitolites. They all looked weird, so there needed to be no definition between them. I remember when I first came here and thought everything was made by Faust, but eventually I realized some of the things here were done on purpose. That automatically made me more comfortable. I thought that would mean more people like me that could see the special things. It just meant they were a whole lot more judgmental when they found out I could see them. People did not take well to my written descriptions of Faust eating all those half rotting squirrels that one afternoon in the kitchen. No one believed me when I suffered with tar on my face for six months. I could barely see, and they still made me work normally! Even that skeptical doctor didn’t notice, or maybe he purposely overlooked it. I reach up to touch my face, feeling the tender skin and wondering if maybe it was another one of the things Faust created to trick me. Sometimes the things he did weren’t real. Those were the more frustrating ones to figure out, and they cost me my job sometimes.
When I reach the grocery store, and someone does not approach me, I immediately turn to look for flour myself. I had money, so I could get the flour without the help of a grocer to find it. I scan the isle titles for baking supplies, and finally wind up walking down a very long isle with different powders. The flour section was large enough, with many brands and sizes. I couldn’t figure out which one to get, so I grabbed one that looked fancy and adjusted it on my side. It was heavy, but it was pretty, so the woman would probably appreciate it. I didn’t know yet what kind of things she usually liked. I would learn later, if I could stay with her for longer than three months, which tended to be my peak time of staying with a person. I glance around the isle and begin to walk down the right side, towards the front, where I assumed the cash register would be. I wait in line behind a giant sized rabbit, trying to resist the urge to stroke its fur, and once it hops away I take its place in the line in front of the bored looking woman at the register. I put the flour down and she scans it. “Thirty one,” she says, and I furrow my eyebrows. That didn’t sound right. It sounded way too expensive to be the price of flower. I peer over the counter to look at the number, and she turns the screen up so I can see it. It really was thirty one. I look around and put one finger up. I pick up the bag and race back to the isle with flour in it, where I set the bag back in place. I needed to look for a cheaper bag of flour.
I didn’t shop for groceries. It wasn’t my job, it was the other avox’s job, but she was busy today and the woman thought I should try going out again. Now that I had tried I realized I was horrible at it. I looked over all the flour bags, clueless as to how to figure out how much they cost. There wasn’t any price tag or reference nearby. After I give up looking for a price tag, I tap on someone nearby. I gesture towards the bags. Looking clueless was easy – I already was. I hope that they chose to understand and help me.
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