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text . open spam . 2nd attack
Free stuff outside level 7 cabin 2. I don't want it.
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[She's still feeling the lingering aches from being ill, but she doesn't pay any attention to it. She has a few good meals in her and too much energy to just sit there. She wants to know what happened. Did any of them make it? Are they all dead? How did Colonel Finley feel about it?
And the sight of her own bedroom appalls her.
So she drags out big plastic bins from her closet and starts tossing stuff inside.
Snow globes and fancy headbands. Old clothes. Who needs that many tops? A lamp that doesn't work. A collection of smooth stones; a glass bottle fused shut.
Beaded bracelets. (Except for one that reads BEST, because she knows who had the other one, who had the half that read FRIENDS and for a few minutes she stares at it, unable to move.) Cheap stuffed animals. A whole series of trophies from hockey. A plastic unicorn filled with layers of colored sand. Old ugly sweaters and figurines and half-used collections of colored pencils. Hand-dipped candles, irregular and bulging and leaning noticeably to the side.
She keeps all her books.
She throws away baskets of souvenir paperweights and keychains and cheap jewelry.
And she drags it all out into the hallway, leaving it there in piles.]
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[She's still feeling the lingering aches from being ill, but she doesn't pay any attention to it. She has a few good meals in her and too much energy to just sit there. She wants to know what happened. Did any of them make it? Are they all dead? How did Colonel Finley feel about it?
And the sight of her own bedroom appalls her.
So she drags out big plastic bins from her closet and starts tossing stuff inside.
Snow globes and fancy headbands. Old clothes. Who needs that many tops? A lamp that doesn't work. A collection of smooth stones; a glass bottle fused shut.
Beaded bracelets. (Except for one that reads BEST, because she knows who had the other one, who had the half that read FRIENDS and for a few minutes she stares at it, unable to move.) Cheap stuffed animals. A whole series of trophies from hockey. A plastic unicorn filled with layers of colored sand. Old ugly sweaters and figurines and half-used collections of colored pencils. Hand-dipped candles, irregular and bulging and leaning noticeably to the side.
She keeps all her books.
She throws away baskets of souvenir paperweights and keychains and cheap jewelry.
And she drags it all out into the hallway, leaving it there in piles.]
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That's sexist.
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[ so flat. ]
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[He's not exactly apologetic.] I like clothes, too. I wouldn't throw any of mine out for anyone to take.
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[ Someone took her house and her land and the livestock and the equipment. They took everything. ]
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Before the Barge, you mean. Who?
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It's all gone. This is just fake. You can't give back an imitation of all of it and say it's OK. It's not.
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At least they could get you a different room. Somewhere you're more comfortable, maybe.
[Though he's starting to think it wouldn't be a very comfortable place.]
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Even Americans helped us more than you lot.
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The war. You know, sending planes and stuff.
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Which war?
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New Zealand was the only one who really stood by us. The Kiwis are - they're good. [ She has strong feelings, there - but there's a flash of guilt, too, almost too quick to see. ]
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What year was it when you came here?
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[ She's alone, from a world that might as well not even exist here. ]
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[ Her hands are clenched tight into fists. Her eyes have landed on one of the smaller piles of old toys, on a doll with its staring eyes. She wants to rip those eyes out. She wants to smash them. ]
America sent planes. And they sheltered our stupid leaders who let this happen in the first place, and then ran away when it did.
[ She can't hold herself still anymore. She shoots up from the chair, grabs the doll, and throws it at the wall, as hard as she can. ]
So I won't be locked up -
[ And she grabs a little windup toy, dashes it against the floor, stomps on it - ]
With all the things that were stolen from me! [ Another, and another; she stomps until the plastic breaks, and until a snow globe has smashed thick, soapy liquid and jagged edges all over the wall and the floor. ]
I don't have this anymore! It's not real! I'll never have it again!
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He understands, in part. It's not the same, he wasn't a child when he went to war - but he knows what losing a home is like.
There's a reason he's never been back to Skyfall.
When she calms, when there's glass and soapy water staining the wall, he speaks. Calmly, not overly sympathetic, not too tolerant. He doesn't have the patience for tantrums.]
How long have you been fighting them?
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