shaken (arden)

[Logan Andrews]

I don't know why cold water is a solution to 'shaken'. It just seems to help.
When I got home, I couldn't settle, at least not until the very sensible solution arose to splash my face with cold water until I woke up again. Well, I'm fairly sure I'm awake...snapped out of the dreamlike 'did I really just come that close?' sort of mood I was in, and at least I have managed to settle...albeit sitting on the bathroom floor with my back against the wall.

I am not going to move until the calm is totally back. I don't understand how it's shattered so completely or just why it was so easy to break, but I'd kill for a bit of composure.
Ha, now that's ironic.
No, I wouldn't kill for anything anymore would I? Because clearly that's the problem and something is gone and something has changed, and again I don't know what, why or how, but I wish that it had stuck around.

Because since when was killing enough to even perturb me? Since when did it start becoming an issue?
I can do that. I may not be able to do much else, but I can kill...torture...always. I've always been able to do that, or not always...but for so long that it feels like always. I guess it stopped becoming easy a while ago, post-Azkaban definitely. Killing that muggle woman shook me up a little bit, didn't it? I know I certainly felt guilty afterwards and it took a while to get over, a few days...maybe a week, but I'm fairly sure I could have done it again if I wanted to.

But now?
Fuck, now just selecting and following some stupid muggle bitch has me this...this weirded out, shaken up.
I don't know what the hell happened, really. It's all...blurry and out of focus and the thoughts I can remember don't make sense and they jump around erratically from just wondering and remembering to the actual 'fuck it, I'm just going to do it and to hell with the consequences' and then to the sudden burst of clarity and the 'what the fuck are you doing?'
And why does it matter? What's the life of some stupid muggle slut to me? What's anyone's life to me and why the hell should I care?

I don't think I do care, not about the value of human life or shit like that.
I don't know why I'm so shaken, just because it was a close call. Is it because I would have done it, would have got her alone and tortured her or slit her throat or something? Or is it because I'm not sure if I could anymore?
Is it because I'm a bit...desensitised to violence now and have sort of adopted the weak traits of an almost normal personality and then missed out on all the merits of general humanity?

And for fuck's sake, I should just fucking get up, go slice up a few muggles if it'll make me feel better or help boost my fucking ego or whatever the hell is wrong and stop sitting in the bathroom and asking myself philosophical questions, because that's a little ridiculous.
A lot ridiculous, to be honest. Totally...stupid.

I don't think I care though, and I don't think I can take it. It's one thing to be insane and not care because there's no chance of being any different. It's another to be on the fence, where one side is that abyss - that unthinking, unfeeling, capable abyss, and on the other is...I don't know, effort and general hardship but something that's almost hope at being sane. And I have to wonder which side I'm leaning more towards if I'm going to start following people again with every intention of doing them in. Have to wonder how long I'm going to hold off, how many more times I'll be able to pull back and what'll happen when I can't. Have to fucking wonder if there is any hope or if I'm just deluding myself, fighting a losing battle.

I suppose this was inevitable, at some point I was going to have to do this, question all of this rather than just accept it as 'this is how it is - fuck it', but maybe I should wait until I am calm again and the high has subsided a little bit.
It is some rush, have to admit that I guess. Sometimes I think the anticipation is better than the actual act anyway, the sick excitement at the chance to destroy something beautiful and leave a bit of chaos as opposed to the messy, bloody, loud process.
So everything is all fucked up anyway, jittery from left over unused adrenalin and wasted endorphins and maybe that's making it all worse. Maybe it's heightening the frustration and blowing it all out of proportion, but fuck.
I can't be bothered to think anymore. I don't want to think anymore.

[Arden Patricks]

It's not that unusual to wake up and not have Logan beside me. I'm pretty sure he's fairly weirded out by being there in the first place, so I'll take what I can get and not say anything... even if I do have occasional flashbacks to the night I caught him washing the blood off after killing Natasha.

So... it isn't that. Rather, it's the fact that my damn finger is pulsing with pain so much that I swear it's giving me a headache. That's a new one. Further proof that this was a brilliant yet incredibly stupid idea, of course, but also kind of interesting. Or perhaps it will be after it stops actively hurting so much.

So even though that's the point, and it's supposed to hurt a lot... I'll never get to sleep again if I don't go find a painkiller. Which I believe... I keep in the bathroom. Which is where - what a coincidence - I find Logan, sitting on the floor and looking a bit of a mess.

I stop short, blinking slightly while i wait for it to register, torn between concern for him and worry that he's done something he shouldn't.
"... Are you all right?" I ask finally.

[Logan Andrews]

I don't know what time it is, but come to think of it...shouldn't she really be asleep right now and that's why I'm safe to sit here and think on my own? That was sort of the plan...or not really, but if I'd actually has a conscious plan that probably would have been in it.

So it's just slightly bothersome that she's up in a 'why can't you sleep like a normal person?' sort of way, and then a 'well, why can't I sleep like a normal person?' way on top of that, because then this wouldn't even be an issue.
It is, though. An issue I mean. Insomnia and nighttime wanderings and potential murders that I may or may not be able to carry out. One of the many issues, of course.

I shake my head, not really in response to the question although I suppose it fits as an answer...but in a weary 'do whatever you came in here to and go away again' way, because I've just decided not to think and I can't have her ruining it. So I suppose maybe I should get up and go and sit somewhere else and give her some privacy, but unless she tells me to I can't be bothered to do that either.

[Arden Patricks]

I'm not really sure if that was an answer or not, but I think I'll take it as a no. Not that I'm sure what to do now that I have the answer, other than eye him worriedly while I pop back a few painkillers, glance toward the doorway while I think very briefly about leaving him to it, and finally decide that I can't do that so instead I'll sit beside him.
"All right, so what's wrong then? What are you doing in here?"

[Logan Andrews]

"Nothing's wrong. I just can't sleep."
Eh, that sounded feasible. Very normal. At least I can still fucking lie, that's something...even if it's not exactly a merit.
"What's wrong with you?"
I think I'm referring to the pain killers there, but it also sort of doubles as asking her why she's up instead of sleeping.

[Arden Patricks]

"So you decided to come sit in the bathroom?" i ask skeptically, before registering his return question and shrugging. "Nothing's wrong with me. I just wondered where you were."
And my hand hurts, but I'm not going to say that.

[Logan Andrews]

Ah, didn't even occur to me that might be a little strange...so I shrug, "It's a change of scenery."
The next statement calls for raised eyebrows though, because it's not as if it's unusual for me to not be there...and also doesn't explain the pain killers. "And the pain killers are for...?"
More curiousity than anything that I ask, more to keep my mind off my own pathetic woes at the moment.

[Arden Patricks]

Damn. Direct question.
"... My finger," I mutter reluctantly, half-wondering when they'll actually kick in. I think a less pain-tolerant person might be crying right about now.
But that's not important. Not as important as the fact that I think he's lying as well. I look around the bathroom deliberately, raising my eyebrows.
"Yes it's very scenic in here, isn't it?"

[Logan Andrews]

"Regret it yet then?" I ask, raising an eyebrow slightly.
It bothered me a little bit at the time, and still does now, how she said she didn't regret it...so I do sort of half hope that she's rational and sensible enough to regret it now.
"Ah...well, maybe 'scenic' is the wrong word, but it has it's charms." I reply lightly.

[Arden Patricks]

"... Honestly, no. Pain was kind of the point." I shrug, then glance around again. "Hm. You know you'd think that because we both like to be evasive, we'd have the sense not to try it with each other."

[Logan Andrews]

The only reply I can come up with to that is, "...Ridiculous," muttered under my breath, followed by a sarcastic internal congratulations in hurting herself that wouldn't be too tactful to say out loud.
"You'd think so..." I agree with a brief nod, "But apparently not. Ah well."
I put as much of a conclusive sort of tone in that as I possibly can, as in 'that's it - end of, go back to bed'. Even if I said that out loud, I somehow don't think it'd work.

[Arden Patricks]

I throw him an unamused look, shaking my head.
"Logan, honestly. What's wrong and why are you in here?"

[Logan Andrews]

Yeah, I guess it wasn't going to be that easy then. Maybe if I kept claiming insomnia and being evasive, she would give up...but maybe a confession helps. And maybe if she's here then I won't have to go back to thinking, asking myself all the stupid roundabout questions that never have answers.
But it's still a pause before the shapeless confession filters into words anyway and they're not very coherent or relevant or even linked to anything much. "I nearly did it again."
I know what I mean, clearly, but otherwise that makes precious little sense and is generally a little bit too abstract to even count as a confession. No follow up though, nothing else. That'll have to do.

[Arden Patricks]

I frown slightly, puzzled but not quite irritated, though that's a possibility because I really have to wonder if he could be any vaguer. Nearly did what again?
Hm. Let's see, Arden. What does he have a habit of doing? What are you vaguely afraid of every time you wake up and he's not there?
"... Oh." I say after a moment. "... But you didn't, right?"
As soon as I've asked this it occurs to me that there is another possibility, another vague 'it' that he's done multiple times and probably wouldn't want to be specific about. I wonder if it's a bad sign that I'll be more upset if he almost cheated on me than if he lmost killed someone.

[Logan Andrews]

"...No. Not tonight."
I don't entirely feel with it anymore. This whole conversation has taken on a somewhat...semi-conscious feel to it...so I don't really care what I say as long as it all goes away. I'd kill to have it all go away again.
Ha, irony again.
I'm still not sure if what frightens me most is that I would have...or that maybe I couldn't have.

[Arden Patricks]

"Well, that's something," I mutter, though I'm a little bit bothered by the 'not tonight' bit, as if maybe he did two days ago so that's just a disclaimer of sorts. "So why is that a problem then?"

[Logan Andrews]

"I followed her, for nearly an hour. Nearly a fucking hour." I half-shrug and half-shake my head at the same time. "She wouldn't have stood a chance, you know. Very...very close and-...well, possibly. I don't know if..." Another shrug, because whatever part of my brain it is that's in charge of articulation gives up.
Good job I've stopped caring whether I make sense or not, I suppose.

[Arden Patricks]

Ah. Must be the first one then. At least we've got that cleared up.
But what in the hell do you say, exactly, in a situation like this? I suppose it's quite a lot like quitting an addiction... the way that he talks makes it sound like an addiction. It would probably be a relief if it was the normal sort, though... if I just had to say a prayer of thanks that he didn't shoot up or go gambling or whatever, rather than that he didn't kill a woman. The relief is immense.
"... Well, you still didn't," I say finally, sounding almost like I'm pleading with him. "What made you not?"

[Logan Andrews]

"Yeah...didn't."
That's half the problem, though I won't mention that. Damned if I do and damned if I don't...because there's just no winning, because whether I do it or not I've done it wrong and betrayed some part of myself.
But it's ridiculous. Fucking stupid. All of it. Everything. I don't care and I don't want to.
"...I don't know. Nevermind."

[Arden Patricks]

Well, that's rather frustrating of you.
Then... maybe it's the sleepiness, but I have a sudden thought. A leap of connection.
"You're not upset about the 'almost,' are you? How close it was? You're upset that you didn't?"

[Logan Andrews]

"Couldn't." I correct under my breath, but then shake my head as an answer. "I don't...I don't know."
So please go away and let me figure it out.
Although if she did go away, I probably still wouldn't figure it out, still wouldn't get it. I don't think it's for me to understand anyway and my head's starting to hurt.

[Arden Patricks]

I frown slightly, not comprehending. But then I don't quite think that he understands it either so I don't know why I would. And thus, I can't do anything, or say anything, and I hate that.

[Logan Andrews]

I lean my head back to rest it against the wall and close my eyes. It doesn't help the headache but I didn't really expect it to.
I wish she'd replied, even though I didn't really say anything, but now it's quiet and I don't have anything to do apart from think.

[Arden Patricks]

I wonder if I should just go back to bed now, since sitting here looking at him isn't terribly helpful anyway. But I still don't really like that idea.
"... Is there anything I can do?" I ask after a moment.

[Logan Andrews]

Kill me and get it the fuck over with?
That was strangely close to sincere for an idle...semi-suicidal thought. I guess it's the near brush with murder, bringing back snippets of the post-killing Natasha conversation. I wonder if this counts as going insane again, I wonder if that means we have to get me killed now before it gets worse.
Ha.
No, that's not really very funny and I shouldn't find it amusing.
"No...nothing. Go back to bed."

[Arden Patricks]

Hesitating again, I finally shrug and sit back against the wall, folding my arms across my knees and stifling a yawn. "I will. When you do, and/or when I'm sure that's really the case, that I can't do anything."

[Logan Andrews]

I don't think I'm going back to bed anytime soon. It's a little bit strange anyway, bit too intimate, and I'm in too weird and uncomfortable a mood to pretend it's okay tonight.
And also there is nothing she can do, but I suppose all I can do is wait until she either figures that out or gets too bored/tired and goes away anyway.
"Suit yourself then."

[Arden Patricks]

I shrug slightly. It's easy enough to see he thinks there's little point, but so what? I still don't like the thought of leaving him here to brood or whatever he's doing.

[Logan Andrews]

I can't sit here in silence, don't think I can take it. But then again, I decided that I couldn't really take life in general anymore about ten minutes ago and haven't really done anything about that either because I won't, because that's quite out of character for me and I just have to wait for it to pass.
"Ah...really though, it's fine...and I don't need..." help? company? not-quite-awkward silence?

[Arden Patricks]

"Well, I don't care. You're getting it anyway." I shrug, though I don't actually know what he might have put at the end of that sentence. "I just... I don't know. Would you rather not talk about it? Because this is kind of major, you know, finding out that you came, that things got however close to a repeat of the last time I found you in here after wandering around. And I want to know which it is, that you're bothered you almost did or bothered you didn't. And I realize one in the morning, two... whatever it is... is probably not the best time, but what do you think the chances are either of us will bring this up again later?"
I don't know if it's just that I'm tired or if that was really rambly, but I think it made sense.