![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Feb. 11th, 2018 05:27 amWhen Beverly first showed up here, she hadn't actually minded the Children's Home at all. If nothing else, it seemed a hell of a lot better than what she left behind, and at least she's had Eddie here with her, one little piece of a home that seems increasingly distant. Those reasons, at least, have held up. The staff here seems nice enough, and she has one of her best friends, and even some of the other kids here aren't totally awful. No one's been calling her name, anyway, her reputation as a slut firmly left behind her in Derry, as she would prefer it to stay. No, it's in other, stranger ways that her opinions on the place have started to change. Food goes bad before it's supposed to. The pipes clatter. She's seen some really gross-looking bugs, though she hasn't hesitated to just fucking stomp on them.
Perhaps worst of all, sometimes at night, when she's trying to sleep, she thinks she can hear an echo of a familiar voice whispering Bevvie, the ghost of a touch down her shoulder and arm to her waist, and then she jolts awake, gasping for air. She dismisses them as nightmares, at least in her own head, unwilling to talk about them to anyone else, but they don't feel like bad dreams. They feel real, only that's stupid, because he didn't follow her here and she knows it.
With the room otherwise empty for the time being, most of the other girls, a little older, out doing who knows what, Beverly has taken advantage of having a little time to herself, the window open a few inches so she can perch herself on the windowsill and smoke a cigarette without the teenage girls' bedroom reeking of it later. A part of her wonders if maybe she should go to Hopper's again, but she doesn't know what she would tell him. There's too much that she just can't talk about.
At the sound of someone coming into the room, she starts a little, drawing in a sharp breath and straightening her back. She relaxes almost immediately, though, when she realizes it's not one of the other caretakers but one of the other girls. "Hey," she says, a hint of a warm smile twitching at a corner of her mouth. "New kid, right?" There's nothing derogatory about it, nothing insulting. She's been here barely any time herself, though these days, she's itching to get out. Tapping ash out the window, she nods towards it and adds just slightly conspiratorially, "Don't tell on me."
Perhaps worst of all, sometimes at night, when she's trying to sleep, she thinks she can hear an echo of a familiar voice whispering Bevvie, the ghost of a touch down her shoulder and arm to her waist, and then she jolts awake, gasping for air. She dismisses them as nightmares, at least in her own head, unwilling to talk about them to anyone else, but they don't feel like bad dreams. They feel real, only that's stupid, because he didn't follow her here and she knows it.
With the room otherwise empty for the time being, most of the other girls, a little older, out doing who knows what, Beverly has taken advantage of having a little time to herself, the window open a few inches so she can perch herself on the windowsill and smoke a cigarette without the teenage girls' bedroom reeking of it later. A part of her wonders if maybe she should go to Hopper's again, but she doesn't know what she would tell him. There's too much that she just can't talk about.
At the sound of someone coming into the room, she starts a little, drawing in a sharp breath and straightening her back. She relaxes almost immediately, though, when she realizes it's not one of the other caretakers but one of the other girls. "Hey," she says, a hint of a warm smile twitching at a corner of her mouth. "New kid, right?" There's nothing derogatory about it, nothing insulting. She's been here barely any time herself, though these days, she's itching to get out. Tapping ash out the window, she nods towards it and adds just slightly conspiratorially, "Don't tell on me."
