sweetsalome: (wee!sal couch)
"It's either you or a foster home, Child Welfare will have to come and pick her up or you can drop her off at the downtown office."  Out of the deck sized pack of cards she peels off one and hands it off to the man protesting the saddling of some dirty faced street urchin that was suddenly his.

"You don't seem to understand, this isn't my child, what kind of untrained, shit for brains government employee leaves a child with a strange man?  I'm not taking her anywhere, you're taking her now."

He is scary.

Standing a million feet tall, bare feet, black denim and messy hands with a cigarette smoldering somewhere up in the atmosphere around his head; she is too scared to look that far up.  It looks like blood.  

He is going to eat her, and Bear!

No, she won't let him eat Bear.


You ARE the father. Fuck you, Maury )
sweetsalome: (Completely lost)
And I want to know my fate
If I keep up this way
And it's hard to want to stay awake.


       It was stupid walking home after partying all night.  It was stupid to wave off any escort that slurred drunkenly in her ear that they would make sure she got home safe. 

        It was stupid to be too drunk and too stoned to realize that bad people were following her after she passed the mouth of an alley.  It was stupid not to take that cab.

        The whole night was just stupid.  God protects babies, and sometimes fools.  Unfortunately Salome had pressed her luck in that department.

        They only took her purse, they only took her ipod and cell phone.  Then her shoes, then her coat.   Because that's all they wanted, the material things.  Of course that didn't stop them from having a little fun.

        That's when the night stopped being stupid and turned down right painful.  It would have been shorter, if she would have screamed, but years of training had taught her to remain silent while receiving beatings.  Dad didn't like screams and so she bit the inside of her cheek until she could taste blood. 

        It was a group of drunk club goers that startled the boys that were using the blond as a punching bag.  The boys ran off and Salome laid very still, collecting herself until she heard the voice of some girl above her.

        "Oh my gawd!  There is like, someone here!  Carlos, call like the cops.  Sweetie are you like, okay?"  Like. Like. Like. Like.  Die bitch.

        The word 'cops' got her going.  That was not good, cops would mean parents, and parents would mean dad and that scared her more then a bunch of gang bangers fucking her up.  Grabbing the brick wall she hauled herself to her feet and lunged forward, pushing away from the group that had gathered around her.  Moving forward was good, going home was better.  Home she could wash up and take care of herself. 

        Where was home?

        Sagging against a wall she shuddered and wrapped an arm around her stomach before she heaved and threw up her liquid dinner and broke down crying.  She could cry here, there wasn't anyone to scream at her for it.  Moments of weakness were allowed in private. 
 


sweetsalome: (Just a taste)
        There is something highly ironic about the bunch of under aged girls getting dressing up and going out for 80's night. Of course the whole thing is lost on the girls as they do shots of raspberry Smirnoff in their dorm room while getting ready to go out. Music turned up loud, the girls dance up against each other, shaking their hips and tossing their hair in time to the music. Only pausing once and awhile when one of the more sober ones remind the others that someone was going to catch them if they were too loud. Which only set the girls to giggling, and a round of over exaggerated 'Shhhhhhhhh's' which were lost under the music anyway.
Cut for sex, drugs, and pretentious art kids )



sweetsalome: (Over the shoulder)
    She is six years old when she tears her favorite pink bunny rabbit.  His ear gets caught on something and without knowing it she rips the ear off going up the stairs.  Salome is mortified and in tears over what she is sure is the death of this beloved friend and companion.  Carrying the body and the ear that's hanging on by a thread, she struggles up the stairs to her father's study.  It's hard to walk the narrow stairs with tears in your eyes, especially since the world tends to get blurry and she's trying so hard to calm down so he doesn't see her like this.  He'll be upset if he sees her crying.  She almost succeeds too, but when she knocks on the door, and he tells her to come in and she pushes her way inside - she loses it again.

Let me say it again )
sweetsalome: (Eyes closed)
            She left second year of college, for no apparent reason except to go. One day her things were in her room, sheets comforter, clothes hanging up in the closet, and then one day they disappeared. Her room mates questioned each other and the RA about the disappearance but no one seemed to have any clue as to why she just up and left. She seemed happy, she was doing decently in her classes, and was looking forward to summer break, talking wildly about spending all summer by herself on her boat down south. Of course no one really believe her, about the boat thing, the disbelief was founded in jealousy and facts based in that are always easy to dismiss.

That had been ten years ago, and any room mates or friends she had made in school had long forgotten her name and appearance. It's something people do when they are smacked in the face with real life, forced to divert their thoughts to other things like bills and house payments. She wasn't looking to be remembered anyway, she simply wanted out. As if the whole thing had been one long roller coaster ride and she had more then enough. Yes, thank you, stop the train please. So she ran away.
Ten years gone )


[ooc:  So, ever smoke a lot of crack?  Yeah, well I've been hittin' the pipe pretty hard lately and I got this crazy idea of "what would it be if she just left!" and so I made her leave and age to 30 years.  I know, I'm cruel.  This has no baring on any 'verses, and if your character wants to go out to Gavdos, drop me a line.  I think it would be pretty cool, but then again I've got that whole "crack habit" thing going on.  Yeah so I don't know if this is going to be a one shot or something I do when I am high.]


sweetsalome: (young normal)

  Salome's school is pretty much like every other school in the country, it has classes, groups of kids that hang out together, lunch and various school functions that everyone goes to in order to fit in.  The name of the game is blending in when it comes to high school.  Something she's learned the hard way and is never easy for her, because if she isn't getting in trouble, she's standing out because someone thinks they can inspire something inside her.  Must be the eyes.

By week two all the teachers know her name, except for the biology teacher who can not, for the life of him say it correctly.  She's tried over, and over, Sa-low-may.  It doesn't stick, so finally, friday afternoon she tells him:  "Just call me Sal."  Which seems to work for anyone who talks to her, or asks her a question.  Truth be told it's odd for anyone to call her by her first name anyway.  Life is tedious, homework dull, she falls asleep in math class pretending to focus on a problem.  It's not that math class is dull it's just that there doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day, and who needs math anyway?

 

Normal, every day, life )

Snap shot

Aug. 27th, 2008 11:53 pm
sweetsalome: (Blown wind)
   The wind through the trees is beautiful, it makes a soothing sound, lifting the waxy leaves that still hold tight to the branches and rub them together.  It takes the scent of the apples along with it, heavy fruit that takes more then just a breeze to move them.  But they give off their smell, luring bees and other insects to them.  Luring them to lunch.  Thick, heavy flies with rainbow colored wings and backs, buzzing around in packs, hoards, thick clouds that cause more noise then the wind in the branches.

At night the other insects start making their noises, to the point where the night, if you close your eyes and stand really still the night sounds louder then the day.

sweetsalome: (Shhh its a secret)
 He told me once that it was either him or me, and it certainly wasn't going to be him.  It was the morning after one of those fights that I could never remember but always felt.  

      
sweetsalome: (Jonba)

            It was night, the windows of the house open to let in a cool breeze that made everyone sleepy after the heat and the activity of the day.  Up on the second floor Salome carefully dried off a yawning Jonba, who had just got done with a much needed bath.  Dressing him in his pajamas, she takes picks him up and carries him to his bedroom.  He's sleeping in a big boy bed, there's no crib for him at his grandparents house, but he handles it well, besides some roaming in the middle of the night.  She lays him down and kisses his forehead before giving him his Elmo doll, which he proceeds to hug tightly to his chest.  

    "How much do you love me?"  She asks, kneeling beside his bed, her arms folded across the blanket.  "This much?"  She holds her hands apart about three inches, and the boy shakes his head no.  "More?"  She holds her hands further apart, and the more they spread the more he shakes his head, up to the point where her arms stretch as far as they can go.

    "Do you love me this much?"  Finally Jonba nods and smiles, and wrapping those arms around him she gives him a big hug.  "I love you, John Baptiste, I always will."  Her lips press to his wet hair, it smells like baby shampoo, but she knows in the morning he'll mysteriously smell like pancakes again.  



[Part two tomorrow night. . .]
sweetsalome: (young normal)

  The mean reds are something that everyone gets.  It’s that feeling in the pit of your stomach that suggests that something is wrong but you don’t know what.  It’s panic without any cause, which leads to more anxiety trying to figure out what’s wrong.  What’s the cause of insanity.

Salome didn’t wake up with the mean reds; they hit her shortly after breakfast, while washing dishes.  Between Jonba’s bowl and grandma’s plate, she felt her heart starting to race.  All of a sudden it was hard to think clearly, what came next after soaping a dish, rinse, wipe, wipe or then rinse?  What should she do after setting the dish down, why couldn’t she focus on anything?  The hardest thing in the world is to focus something that is completely out of control.  Frustration sets in and that just adds to the stress that was caused from lack of focus.  Fear follows shortly after because you start to think you might be losing your mind.

sweetsalome: (Bubbles!)

        “I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.”  The boast came in the middle of a lull in the conversation.  They were sitting around the outside swimming pool of the hotel they were staying at, eating ice cream.  It was a rather odd turn in the conversation, considering they had just been conversing, at length about the best ice cream flavor.  The conversation quickly deteriorated into their usual, “is NOT!” and “is SO” argument.  Which he won since he pulled out the infinity card, which she of course thought was cheating, ESPECIALLY after only one round of  ‘not’s’ and ‘so’s’.

     “I don’t believe you.”  Bobby calmly continued to eat his ice cream, unlike Salome who was trying to keep it from melting all over her hand.   There was just something odd about the Iceman eating ice cream.

sweetsalome: (Spin!)

        “Cliff diving, in Acapulco?”  Hiro gives her a look as if she’s lost her mind, it’s not an uncommon look, but she still gets frustrated when she gets it. 

        “It’s not like I am asking you to walk across hot coals, plus we’re with a group!”  Oh yes, the local who looked like a bum but was highly recommended by one of the hotels in town.  That really doesn't make him feel better about the situation, especially not after the waivers they have to fill out.

        “Hey, I ate the intestines when we were in China,” she reminds him, leaning over to take a peek off the side of the cliff at the crashing waters below them.  Grabbing her, he tugs the blond back to stand beside him, on solid ground.

       “Yes, but pig intestine will not kill you!  This could kill you!”  He was pained to even have to explain this to her.  “I do not understand why you are surprised at my response.”

Turning to him, she puts her hand on her hip and gives him a very serious look.  “I’m not going to die, I’m going to live to be a thousand years old,” for some reason the number keeps going up when she speaks to him.  “And you are too, which is why it’s perfectly safe to jump.  Nothing can go wrong.”

 “That’s not even logical; do you know how crazy you sound sometimes?”  But she is grinning, and despite the death jump in front of him, he manages a slight smile as well.

The trainer explains how to correctly jump, and that there would be a boat that would collect you after you surfaced.  After joking that he had never lost a person . . . yet, he asks the group to form a queue.  When there was only one other person in front of her, Salome begins to get a little nervous. 

Turning to Hiro, she sighs and takes him by his shoulders.  For a long time she doesn't say anything, just looks deep into his eyes as if she is searching for something.  Grinning she leans up and kisses him quickly, “I’ll see you at the bottom, okay?”

Before he can say a word, or pull her back, she steps away and disappears off the edge of the cliff.  The instructor motions for Hiro to come forward, as he moves he seriously wonders what possessed him to go along with this idea.  There was no turning back now, and at the signal, he jumps.

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Salome

February 2013

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