He Was Right.... (Lindy's Day One)
Nov 5, 2015 20:26:42 GMT -5
Post by Lindy Morigan on Nov 5, 2015 20:26:42 GMT -5
"It's been five months, Lindy. You need to go see him."
"I don't need to do anything. Especially when it comes to him."
"He feels horrible about what happened last time. He's sick-"
"He came at me with a knife mom!"
"Yes, yes I know-"
"How did he even get a knife?! Why aren't the doctors watching for this stuff?!"
"Well, he's been doing so much better lately. Really. If you just come-"
"Mom, he thought I was a zombie. A zombie!"
"I know, I know. But they have him on some new medications and the doctors think it would be good for him to see you."
"What about whats good for me? He tried to slit. My. Throat! I'm not going anywhere near him, ever again. You still may be stupid enough not to see what he's become, but that man is not dad. Not anymore."
"But Lind-"
"I have to go, my shift is starting. Bye mom."
She hung up with a click, her moms protests dying with that call. With a sigh, Lindy closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against her phone. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and forced them down. She had meant what she said. That man in the hospital...that wasn't her father. Her dad had died two years ago when he attacked them. Every month since then, she had visited him in the mental hospital with her mom. They would eat rocky road ice cream-her dad's favorite-and pretend everything was normal. Pretend that there weren't orderlies with large muscles watching him, ready to haul him back to his room if he became violent. They ignored his mumbles, his "warnings". Zombies... Of all things. Zombies weren't real. Hollywood created them and the entertainment world had gone crazy. But he hadn't been able to tell the difference. With a long sigh, she stuffed her phone into the back pocket of her tight jeans and dabbed at her eyes, mindful of her eyeliner. With one more big sigh and glance in the mirror, she walked out of the backroom.
Music assaulted her senses as she entered the bar. It was a Friday night and the place was packed. This meant of course that while there would be more drunk assholes tonight, there'd also be more tips. Which meant she could stop for some extra yummy treats for Havok. That had to make up for leaving her baby of a German Shepherd home today. Her usual grin in place, she slipped behind the bar and tied on her small black apron. Jake, the other bartender with an ass you could bounce quarters off of winked at her from his place on the opposite end. As always her body did that tingly thing. One day she was just going to have to woman up and ask him out. Or more likely, get tipsy enough to make out with him in back. Grinning at that image, she got to work.
Hours flew by as she worked. The conversation with her mom was quickly forgotten, pushed to be back of her mind and filed under the Never Think About section. That was where she filed all their arguments. And all her memories of her dad before his episodes. Mike Morigan had been a great father. He hadn't babied her, but couldn't stand to say no. Her favorite times had been in their garage-turned-gym. After getting into a fight in middle school one day, her dad had started teaching her self defense. In the beginning it had been innocent enough. Kicks, punches, blocks. Standard stuff. Lindy had loved it, soaked every lesson in. But as she grew, the lessons had become different. It wasn't just about defending herself,, but attacking. Her dad taught her how to shoot a handgun. Had showed her where to hit with a machete to cause the most damage. It was when he tired to show her how to cut off the head that she backed out. That was when his episodes really started. He didn't want her or her mom going out late anymore. Didn't want them to go anywhere without him. He insisted she carry a switchblade, something that had gotten her suspended from school when a teacher found it. Her dad became obsessed with the idea of zombies and had moved them from their old house to one farther out from town. She cursed herself every day from not getting out of there sooner. Cursed her mother for not seeing it, despite what she had said. His attack had come only three months after that move. Lindy had come home late from work and was standing by the door watching Havok outside. Her dad had thought she was a zombie and came at her with a knife, just like he did two years later. Her mom had heard the noise and come down just in time to scream at her to move. Her and her dad had fought, him even trying to attack her mom. If Havok, her brave, wonderful dog, hadn't used every moment of his training to bite and subdue her dad.... Well, things might have ended up different. But, all that was filed under Never Think About. And that was where it was going to stay.
It was 4am before she finally left-an hour after the bar had closed. She had helped shut down, counted her tips. And okay, she had worked a bit slower than usual, enjoying the feeling of Jake's eyes on her. Operation Tight Jeans and Low-Cut Shirt had been a success. The parking lot behind the bar was deserted, her car and the manager-who was still inside the bar- the only ones left. The one streetlamp was hardly a light source out here, the bulb flickering every five seconds. They had tried to get better lighting out here, but the city was dragging their feet. No matter, she always kept a gun in her purse, just in case. There were some lessons her dad had taught her that we actually smart. She was digging in said purse when she heard a sound. Freezing, she glanced up. A man was across the lot, staring at her. She stayed still, staring back. All the little hairs on her body stood on air. It hadn't been the first time a guy had waited for her out here. She was a girl who worked in a bar after all. But, one look at the gun an they usually backed off. Taking out her keys with one hand, she wrapped the other around the handle of her gun, keeping it in her purse. She wouldn't show fear, that would only encourage him. See? She didn't forget every lesson. Keeping her normal pace, she started walking over to her car. The guy started walking too. Well, kind of. It was more this slow shuffle, one of his feet twisted at a weird angle. In the dark, it was hard to really get a good look at him.
As she neared her car, and him too, a weird smell tickled her nose. Was that...rot? Oh god, was the guy a homeless man? It would explain the smell. Trying the relax, she clicked off the safety on the gun.
"Can I help you?" she asked him. Not acknowledging him wouldn't make this easier. He didn't reply. Frowning, she tried again. "I said, can I help you?"
The man responded this time, a low groan coming from his throat. As she neared her car, he came into the light of the lamp post. She almost gagged from the smell, shocked at what she saw. His skin was pale, almost gray in color. His eyes were hollowed and his cheeks gaunt. His clothes were in tatters, like he had been in a nasty fight. His ankle was indeed bent weird but aside from slowing him down, he didn't seem to notice. The thing that really caught her attention though, was the blood. Blood on his neck, blood on his chest and leg, blood around his mouth. She swallowed, moving to her car faster, but always keeping him in her sights.
"Are-are you hurt?" she called out to him, the tremor in her voice easily heard. He groaned again, louder this time, coming toward her. He was only a few yards away now and had almost a hungry look in his eyes. Decision made, Lindy took out her gun and raised it, pointing it at him.
"Don't come any closer!" she warned him, back pressed against her car door. With her hand holding her keys, she unlocked only the drivers side, ready to dart in and slam the door shut in a second. The man came closer, ignoring the gun leveled at his chest. He groaned louder, hands reaching up toward her.
"I will shoot you!" she warned again. Oh god, don't make me shoot him! Closer and closer he came. Heart hammering in her chest, she squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew, going into his shoulder. Aside from the jerk it caused, he wasn't even fazed. Almost like it was an invitation, he moved faster. Her eyes widened. Blood didn't well around the wound. He wasn't even affected. She aimed lower, shooting at his leg. It hit, tearing through skin at his thigh. Again, small jerk, then he continued. As he got closer, realization hit. Stupid, crazy realization that she tried to fight. This man wasn't right. The bullets did nothing. He smelled of death, had blood all around his mouth but no wound. He wanted to hurt her. Possibly to kill her. Arm shaking, she raised her hand, aimed, and shot. The bullet made a hole right through his head, hitting him right between the eyes. Larger jerk, then lumbering forward, though slower. She fired around. Larger jerk, pause, slow shuffling. Fear now clawing at her chest, she took one final shot. Large jerk, pause, and his body crumpled. He lay on the ground, blood once again not spilling from him. Lindy kept her gun pointed at the man, arm shaking, eyes wide. Her breaths came out hard and panicked as she waited. One second...two seconds... The only sounds in the parking lot was her own breathing. Slowly, she moved closer, covering her mouth against the stink. He lay there, unmoving. Closer, closer. She stood only a foot away now, fighting to keep her dinner down against the smell and the horror at what she had done.
At once, his hand shot out, grasping her ankle with surprising strength. A scream tore out of her as his head rose. She aimed and fired three more bullets, rapid succession. His jerked at each one before his eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped, his grip loosening. She jerked her leg out, ran back to the car, and threw open the door. Jumping inside, she slammed the door shut, locked it, and peeled out of the parking lot-not bothering with her seat-belt. Her breaths came fast, her eyes not really seeing as she drove. Just drove far away as she could, not caring where she was going. Zombie. Had that been what she just saw? What she just...? Lindy quickly pulled over, opened her door, and emptied her stomach onto the pavement. Hot tears ran down her face and once done, she sat there, shuddering. One thought ran through her mind. One horrible, terrifying, sorrowful thought...
He was right....
"I don't need to do anything. Especially when it comes to him."
"He feels horrible about what happened last time. He's sick-"
"He came at me with a knife mom!"
"Yes, yes I know-"
"How did he even get a knife?! Why aren't the doctors watching for this stuff?!"
"Well, he's been doing so much better lately. Really. If you just come-"
"Mom, he thought I was a zombie. A zombie!"
"I know, I know. But they have him on some new medications and the doctors think it would be good for him to see you."
"What about whats good for me? He tried to slit. My. Throat! I'm not going anywhere near him, ever again. You still may be stupid enough not to see what he's become, but that man is not dad. Not anymore."
"But Lind-"
"I have to go, my shift is starting. Bye mom."
She hung up with a click, her moms protests dying with that call. With a sigh, Lindy closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against her phone. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and forced them down. She had meant what she said. That man in the hospital...that wasn't her father. Her dad had died two years ago when he attacked them. Every month since then, she had visited him in the mental hospital with her mom. They would eat rocky road ice cream-her dad's favorite-and pretend everything was normal. Pretend that there weren't orderlies with large muscles watching him, ready to haul him back to his room if he became violent. They ignored his mumbles, his "warnings". Zombies... Of all things. Zombies weren't real. Hollywood created them and the entertainment world had gone crazy. But he hadn't been able to tell the difference. With a long sigh, she stuffed her phone into the back pocket of her tight jeans and dabbed at her eyes, mindful of her eyeliner. With one more big sigh and glance in the mirror, she walked out of the backroom.
Music assaulted her senses as she entered the bar. It was a Friday night and the place was packed. This meant of course that while there would be more drunk assholes tonight, there'd also be more tips. Which meant she could stop for some extra yummy treats for Havok. That had to make up for leaving her baby of a German Shepherd home today. Her usual grin in place, she slipped behind the bar and tied on her small black apron. Jake, the other bartender with an ass you could bounce quarters off of winked at her from his place on the opposite end. As always her body did that tingly thing. One day she was just going to have to woman up and ask him out. Or more likely, get tipsy enough to make out with him in back. Grinning at that image, she got to work.
Hours flew by as she worked. The conversation with her mom was quickly forgotten, pushed to be back of her mind and filed under the Never Think About section. That was where she filed all their arguments. And all her memories of her dad before his episodes. Mike Morigan had been a great father. He hadn't babied her, but couldn't stand to say no. Her favorite times had been in their garage-turned-gym. After getting into a fight in middle school one day, her dad had started teaching her self defense. In the beginning it had been innocent enough. Kicks, punches, blocks. Standard stuff. Lindy had loved it, soaked every lesson in. But as she grew, the lessons had become different. It wasn't just about defending herself,, but attacking. Her dad taught her how to shoot a handgun. Had showed her where to hit with a machete to cause the most damage. It was when he tired to show her how to cut off the head that she backed out. That was when his episodes really started. He didn't want her or her mom going out late anymore. Didn't want them to go anywhere without him. He insisted she carry a switchblade, something that had gotten her suspended from school when a teacher found it. Her dad became obsessed with the idea of zombies and had moved them from their old house to one farther out from town. She cursed herself every day from not getting out of there sooner. Cursed her mother for not seeing it, despite what she had said. His attack had come only three months after that move. Lindy had come home late from work and was standing by the door watching Havok outside. Her dad had thought she was a zombie and came at her with a knife, just like he did two years later. Her mom had heard the noise and come down just in time to scream at her to move. Her and her dad had fought, him even trying to attack her mom. If Havok, her brave, wonderful dog, hadn't used every moment of his training to bite and subdue her dad.... Well, things might have ended up different. But, all that was filed under Never Think About. And that was where it was going to stay.
It was 4am before she finally left-an hour after the bar had closed. She had helped shut down, counted her tips. And okay, she had worked a bit slower than usual, enjoying the feeling of Jake's eyes on her. Operation Tight Jeans and Low-Cut Shirt had been a success. The parking lot behind the bar was deserted, her car and the manager-who was still inside the bar- the only ones left. The one streetlamp was hardly a light source out here, the bulb flickering every five seconds. They had tried to get better lighting out here, but the city was dragging their feet. No matter, she always kept a gun in her purse, just in case. There were some lessons her dad had taught her that we actually smart. She was digging in said purse when she heard a sound. Freezing, she glanced up. A man was across the lot, staring at her. She stayed still, staring back. All the little hairs on her body stood on air. It hadn't been the first time a guy had waited for her out here. She was a girl who worked in a bar after all. But, one look at the gun an they usually backed off. Taking out her keys with one hand, she wrapped the other around the handle of her gun, keeping it in her purse. She wouldn't show fear, that would only encourage him. See? She didn't forget every lesson. Keeping her normal pace, she started walking over to her car. The guy started walking too. Well, kind of. It was more this slow shuffle, one of his feet twisted at a weird angle. In the dark, it was hard to really get a good look at him.
As she neared her car, and him too, a weird smell tickled her nose. Was that...rot? Oh god, was the guy a homeless man? It would explain the smell. Trying the relax, she clicked off the safety on the gun.
"Can I help you?" she asked him. Not acknowledging him wouldn't make this easier. He didn't reply. Frowning, she tried again. "I said, can I help you?"
The man responded this time, a low groan coming from his throat. As she neared her car, he came into the light of the lamp post. She almost gagged from the smell, shocked at what she saw. His skin was pale, almost gray in color. His eyes were hollowed and his cheeks gaunt. His clothes were in tatters, like he had been in a nasty fight. His ankle was indeed bent weird but aside from slowing him down, he didn't seem to notice. The thing that really caught her attention though, was the blood. Blood on his neck, blood on his chest and leg, blood around his mouth. She swallowed, moving to her car faster, but always keeping him in her sights.
"Are-are you hurt?" she called out to him, the tremor in her voice easily heard. He groaned again, louder this time, coming toward her. He was only a few yards away now and had almost a hungry look in his eyes. Decision made, Lindy took out her gun and raised it, pointing it at him.
"Don't come any closer!" she warned him, back pressed against her car door. With her hand holding her keys, she unlocked only the drivers side, ready to dart in and slam the door shut in a second. The man came closer, ignoring the gun leveled at his chest. He groaned louder, hands reaching up toward her.
"I will shoot you!" she warned again. Oh god, don't make me shoot him! Closer and closer he came. Heart hammering in her chest, she squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew, going into his shoulder. Aside from the jerk it caused, he wasn't even fazed. Almost like it was an invitation, he moved faster. Her eyes widened. Blood didn't well around the wound. He wasn't even affected. She aimed lower, shooting at his leg. It hit, tearing through skin at his thigh. Again, small jerk, then he continued. As he got closer, realization hit. Stupid, crazy realization that she tried to fight. This man wasn't right. The bullets did nothing. He smelled of death, had blood all around his mouth but no wound. He wanted to hurt her. Possibly to kill her. Arm shaking, she raised her hand, aimed, and shot. The bullet made a hole right through his head, hitting him right between the eyes. Larger jerk, then lumbering forward, though slower. She fired around. Larger jerk, pause, slow shuffling. Fear now clawing at her chest, she took one final shot. Large jerk, pause, and his body crumpled. He lay on the ground, blood once again not spilling from him. Lindy kept her gun pointed at the man, arm shaking, eyes wide. Her breaths came out hard and panicked as she waited. One second...two seconds... The only sounds in the parking lot was her own breathing. Slowly, she moved closer, covering her mouth against the stink. He lay there, unmoving. Closer, closer. She stood only a foot away now, fighting to keep her dinner down against the smell and the horror at what she had done.
At once, his hand shot out, grasping her ankle with surprising strength. A scream tore out of her as his head rose. She aimed and fired three more bullets, rapid succession. His jerked at each one before his eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped, his grip loosening. She jerked her leg out, ran back to the car, and threw open the door. Jumping inside, she slammed the door shut, locked it, and peeled out of the parking lot-not bothering with her seat-belt. Her breaths came fast, her eyes not really seeing as she drove. Just drove far away as she could, not caring where she was going. Zombie. Had that been what she just saw? What she just...? Lindy quickly pulled over, opened her door, and emptied her stomach onto the pavement. Hot tears ran down her face and once done, she sat there, shuddering. One thought ran through her mind. One horrible, terrifying, sorrowful thought...
He was right....
