Nervous Breakdown

Alright, so I think I took on too much and I’m starting to feel the effects of it. I’m unfocused, I have a constant ringing headache. I want to finish things but when I start looking at it I start to feel a little panicky, which honestly, isn’t anything like me.

I have a few projects that have deadlines and this normally doesn’t bother me but I’ve just been having such a hard time concentrating on it. I feel terrible, I know I’m letting people down, which just adds to my stress. I CAN DO IT. I know I can it’s just the lack of focus just makes doing anything really difficult.

What doesn’t help? The fact that I keep having things add to the stress, like I got rear ended last week, I scraped my leg at the pool I mean it feels like a never ending pile that I can never get out from under.

I have a day job, I have this other job I just don’t know if I can do it without really going for it and not having the standard day job. The stress of having both, I think is the root of my issues with doing this. I want to focus but after a long day/week at work I don’t feel up to working more. It’s not that I want to disappoint anyone I just really really want to unwind and I feel that I’m just constantly letting everyone I know down in this situation. I am going to finish the current projects that I have and then take some time away from it for a bit and just see what I can do for priorities on this. I need to have me time and time for this so I think what really needs to happen is that I set hours for this other job. Whether it’s Tues-Thursday from 5PM-9PM I think it’s a boundary I need to set for myself.

Help? Comments? Support? I feel like I’m drowning even though I’m not.

Circus Vampire

“You’ve never seen anything like this next act. You’ve seen fire dancers and fire spinners the next act is… well a fire master. Presenting the one and only Ignaciooooooo Flint!” the man in the center spun around in a circle to the empty circus tent as if he were introducing this person.

A slow clap echoed toward me from the closed entrance. “You do have quite a flair for being a ringmaster. It’s too bad that I have that job.”

“Mordria,” the man stumbled over his own shoes falling to the floor. “I… I didn’t mean any offense I just….”

“You just what? Felt the desire to see what it was like to be me? It’s not as easy as being in an empty room,” she smiled her bluish pale skin shining with a strange luminosity that only she seemed to have. He found it unnerving although her other features were equally as disturbing. The stitches near her mouth were certainly not helpful with her frown as she approached him.

“I just,” he swallowed hard as he scrambled to his feet, wiping himself off. “I like what you do, I wish I could do it.” He didn’t look to her, he knew what was coming next. She would reprimand him and tell him to stop dreaming.

“Unfortunately for you young one, in a circus of the damned no one retires. Take me for example. I have been around for longer then I remember. Victim of voodoo and vampirism. I barely keep myself together yet I have not left. I cannot leave and I cannot die. I will be ringmaster for eternity,” she informed him solemnly. No reprimand, no lecture. She was reaching out for his help.

“Perhaps I could do your job. If you let me, give you a break for a few centuries?”

“Haha,” she laughed shortly a smile brought to her face. “That is cute. You cannot handle my job though,” she picked up his shoes, holding them out to him. “The others would eat you alive.”

“Not if you help me,” he pleaded as she dropped the boots into his arms. “I can do this.”

“The woman reached up and stroked the side of his face. “Sweet vampire,” she said smiling to expose her own teeth, “what makes you think that I would let you do my job?”

“You-ou-ou sound so, uh…” he looked hugging the boots to his chest. “You sounded like you needed a break. I guess I was wrong.”

“Oh, I’m tired but you’re scared of me.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” he gulped.

“You’re right,” she smiled darkly to him as he started to back away from her. “If you run you might be able to get away from me. Vampire blood sustains me far better then human blood,” she said with a cocky raise of her brow. The man started out of the tent from the direction that she came in, pulling on his left boot. He continued on holding his right boot in his hand. “Run, run little vampire,” she whispered as she looked over her shoulder.

The man continued to run through the woods between the circus and the small town. All he could hear was the thudding of his footsteps and the branches as the slapped him. He was getting away. She was going to let him live. He started to slow down a smile creeping onto his face as he slumped against the nearby tree. He breathed a sigh of relief, a human action that showed his youth. “I made it,” he said quietly to himself.

A light laugh came from behind the tree, “You can’t think I’d give up that easily could you?” the woman said as she stepped from behind the tree, her black boots quiet even with the underbrush. The man closed his eyes shoving the picture of the woman in the black and white corset out of his mind as he began to pray muttering to himself.

“If you meet her, tell her that I still want to be saved,” she whispered, her cold breath on his neck. He wished this wasn’t his fate, he didn’t want to be stuck there forever but this? The cool lips of death brushed against the skin of his neck. Then there was the searing pain of her fangs as they sank into his neck. Slowly the pain ebbed into a soft numbness as his right shoe fell from his arm and thudded to the ground.

 

PS. Weekend with the family was fabulous. I love you Cricket. I love you Fae. I love you Troy.

Frustrations of a Working Mother

So I love my kids and because I love my kids I work. While this is good it makes me feel slightly bad because the things that they are not succeeding in makes me feel like I’m failing. Like my daughter. I know she can read, I have watched her do it, but because I’m not there a lot of the time I feel like I’m not succeeding in helping her further her skills. I feel that my lack of reading to her while she was younger has stunted her ability to read.

I feel like an all around bad mother.

I know I’m not, don’t get me wrong. I’m there for my kids when they need me. I’m the fluffy stern woman that keeps them safe from monsters and darkness. It doesn’t make it hurt less that my daughter is struggling to read.

Now with that said she’s going to summer school…. Yes a kindergartener in Summer School but I’m doing this to keep her from being a 7 year old Kindergartener. It’s scary to think that she’s not in second grade already but I have to stay strong for that.

Adding to that I miss being at home with my kids. I remember when I was able to be home all the time and it hurts not to have that connection with them anymore. 🙁 I live with it though, not happily.

On the brighter side to that my boyfriend, affectionately called Cricket, has been an extreme help and rock for me and my wishy washy-ness. He helps with keeping me on the line of being stern but leaving me to my fluff. I definitely need him and love him to death. He keeps me grounded and sane. It’s very nice having someone like him in my life. He also watches my kids for me when he can while I’m at work. This by itself helps me because it means I see my kids more. It’s wonderful.

I guess there is more but I’ve lost my train of thought. Hopefully I’ll get to update this more soon.

Bonuses

So I am one to admit I’m not super exorbananly happy with my job but C’est La Vie. I need a way to take care of myself and my kids and so a job is required. As such I’ve been working hard to get a pay raise and a bonus promised for good stats and attendance. I’ve been anxiously awaiting for this ever possible pay raise for 5 months.

I got it!

I got the Pay raise. I got the bonus… Now what does that mean? I know you’re thinking “Uhhh… congratulations?” well yes! This means I can get a new computer to get back into my sites and groove and I’ll have it all back to normal again… Well sort of. I’m not intending to get another laptop, I’ll be getting a desktop finally. I don’t think I’ve owned a desktop since I’ve personally owned computers. I know my parents did. So I’m so estatic right now that I’ve been bounding out of my skin all week. Now all I have to do is make the decision on the computer I’m going to make or build.

Just thought you all may like to know!

Liz Fic Part 4

Elizabeth fell out of sync for the third class that day as she jumped up and down teaching the thirty-odd people in front of her a new routine. They didn’t notice, how could they? But she could and it frustrated her. Her mind kept wandering to the man that morning, the one that looked familiar but wasn’t familiar. Every time it wandered, she faltered.

Who in the hell was he?

Why did she recognize him?

Why couldn’t she get her mind off of it?

Distraction 101. Think about something that draws your mind away from the task at hand. It’s always a bad thing.

“Liz, is something the matter?” Amanda asked her, the genuine look of concern on her students face as she approached Elizabeth after the class. “Yes. Why? Does something look to be the matter?” Elizabeth asked incredulously.

“Oh, well you just look a little sad is all. See you next week,” Amanda said with a smile and a wave of her hand still holding her aerobics towel. That is why you do not get distracted, people notice. “Yeah, see you next week,” Elizabeth responded as she always did, a bright smile on her lips as everyone left the expansive room to her.

Once the room was empty she moved to the wall and placed her forehead against the cool surface.

“Dexter Morgan,” Elizabeth said aloud for the first time since she had seen it written on the ID badge around the man’s face. “Dexter Morgan. Morgan. Morgan. Morgan. Where have I seen you before Dexter Morgan?”

“Excuse me, Liz?”

Elizabeth spun on her heel to face the door. Naomi the desk clerk was poking her head inside. “I’m sorry to bother you. I had tried your cell a few minutes ago. There’s some officers here that say they want to see you about something,” she said indicating to over her shoulder.

“You can show them in Naomi,” Elizabeth said with a wave of her hand a smile still apparent on her face. Shortly afterward she was faced with Detective Batista and Detective Morgan again. “Hello. I wasn’t expecting to see you both again so soon,” she informed them. Their solemn looks told her that this visit was not good, her first instinct was to run but she stood her ground. While she often listened to those tiny instincts the instinct to flee was not one of them. Fleeing insinuated guilt. Elizabeth was not guilty.

“Miss Thory,” Detective Batista started.

“Liz,” Elizabeth quickly corrected.

“Liz,” he said with a nod of his head. “Miss Adams’ son was also found dead in the apartment.” Now that was something she was not expecting, her eyes opened wide with shock for a few moments before furrowing together in confusion.

“That’s terrible but what does it have to do with me?”

“Well we’d like to take you down and ask you a few more questions if that’s alright.”

Elizabeth held a face that looked sorely confused. “I don’t understand.” She was a suspect and she knew it. Talk about bringing her life under the microscope.

“We just have a few questions that we need to ask you back at the station.”

“Alright I guess. I don’t see why you couldn’t call instead of coming all the way down here,” Elizabeth said moving to grab her stuff lifting her aerobics towel off of her bag and pressing it to her sweating brow.

“Well we did call you just didn’t answer,” Detective Morgan interjected.

“I told you I might not be able to hear you over the music,” Elizabeth countered with a smile as she pulled her bag over her shoulder. “After you,” she indicated with a single hand. What a perfect opportunity to attempt to see Dexter Morgan again. If she believed in fate she’d say it was that.

The elevator dinged just before the door opened to a room that was lined with glass windows and hip high desks all in one large room. Elizabeth didn’t know if she would be able to work in such a confined space like this. It was messy. She could already feel the draw on her energy just being there. Maybe that was half of the point to being brought here. The negativity made a person self conscious.

Elizabeth hummed a soft lullaby tune as she walked with a smile on her face nodding as she passed a few people. They all looked so solemn, like the tedium of their job was too hard to bare. What happened when it did become too hard to bare? Is that when the noble police officers that “just do their job” become homicidal?

Elizabeth wondered how many of them contemplated suicide and murder. Her eyes playfully crossed each of them her mind straying to seeing them holding a weapon of choice in their hand. She could imagine Detective Batista as a man with bloody knuckles after beating someone to death. Detective Morgan seemed more of a suicide case then a murderer, passed out with blood in her bath and pills all over the floor. A double dipper as it were.

Elizabeth saw another female with blood on what she could only assume was their husband’s mistresses sex whip. Another she saw with a concealing baseball cap and bat. Another had a noose around their neck as they filed away some paperwork.

As Elizabeth daydreamed she was lead into what she could only assume was an interrogation room. She looked around calmly setting her bag onto the table and plopping herself into the chair to look up at the two detectives that had disappeared behind a closed door.

Elizabeth frowned. That was rude of them. She quickly shrugged it off and began to look around the room swinging her feet beneath her. There was no point in being nervous. They had nothing on her even if she were to be their prime suspect for a crime she didn’t commit.

Wasn’t it ironic?

Elizabeth Thory a suspect for a crime she didn’t even commit. She huffed in amusement as her eyes lingered on the camera. Was he out there? The man she knew but didn’t. Dexter Morgan.

After a few moments the door clicked and opened to let the Detectives into the small room. She smiled more broadly tilting her head cheerily like she had no idea what could have prompted them to bring her down here.

Detective Morgan placed a file in front of her and sat down. “How well did you know the Adams’ again?” she asked.

“I told you that I didn’t know them very well. We were neighbors, not friends,” Elizabeth responded with a shake of her head. What didn’t they understand about that.

“Well it appears that the boy knew you better then you thought,” Detective Morgan said as she opened the manilla folder to expose some angry looking drawings. “We found these in the boys room with your name on it,” she said flipping them around so that Elizabeth could see them.

Elizabeth tilted her head furrowing her brow as she stared at the images. They were about death and how Elizabeth was a killer and about how she planned to kill him and his mother. Instead of looking alarmed she smiled more broadly and laughed.

Elizabeth looked up at the officer’s and shook her head in amusement. They looked at each other like she was going to confess to what they were thinking she had done. “You have to be kidding me. You brought me all the way down here to explain some pictures from an eight year old?” she said trying to contain her laughter. She rubbed her eye as she shoved the images back at her. “I did a favor for Piper a few years ago and the boy never forgave me. She didn’t have the heart to take his dog to the pound so she asked me to. Unfortunately there was a miscommunication as to when I was to be over to pick him up and the boy ended up coming home when I was taking the dog out of the house.

“He never forgave me for that. Check the Greenleaf Veterinary Clinic. It’s under Piper’s name but the dogs name was Chowder,” Elizabeth looked at them with a playful smile on their face. “If you look at the pictures there is a dog in the background of them all. Piper told me about it but never showed me the pictures,” she explained waiting for one of them to leave and check the information.

“So why would he say that you were going to kill him and his mom,” Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t have any idea. I’m an aerobics instructor not a psychologist,” she said with a shrug and chuckle.

You’re not taking this seriously. You’re neighbor is dead Miss Thory and you are our prime suspect. Where were you last night?” the scrawny brunette snapped trying to get Elizabeth to break.

“Camping,” Elizabeth said plainly.

“Do you have anyone that can collaborate that?” Detective Batista interjected.

Not a live one.

“Unfortunately not,” she answered simply.

There was a tap at the door and Detective Batista went outside to see what it was about.

“Just tell the truth. You killed Piper and her son and went home like any other day. What did she do to piss you off? You are bigger then her it probably wouldn’t have been hard to overpower her, you’re very fit,” Detective Morgan said.

“Feel free to get a warrant and check to see if you can find the blood in my home,” Elizabeth informed her. “I didn’t kill Piper or her son. I had no problem with them,” she explained as Detective Batista returned to the room.

“You’re free to leave but stay where we can contact you. No more camping,” he said with a shake of his head.

Detective Morgan got up frustrated. “She’s the one I can feel it,” she murmured to the other as Elizabeth collected her things.

“We don’t have proof Morgan,” he said gruffly back to her.

“I’m sorry I’m not a great help to you both. If there is anything I can do please don’t hesitate,” Elizabeth said clutching her bag closer to herself as she left. She was hoping it would throw a red flag to indicate there was something inside of it. Get them to take it back, give her time to find Dexter.

“Liz,” Detective Batista called after her. “Do you mind if we look in the bag?”

Elizabeth set it down on the desk she was standing next to throwing a hand out. “Not at all.” She took a few steps back, further into the open expanse of the office looking around to see if she saw him. She avoided the people that she imagined with their murder weapons or suicide of choice and looked for the familiar face amongst the crowd of unfamiliar people.

Elizabeth smiled at the Detective as he looked to her while he rummaged through her bag. “I warn you there might be icky stuff in there. You may want gloves. I sweat a lot.” That seemed to get his grubby fingers out of her stuff for a second to seek gloves. He should have had those on the entire time shouldn’t he have? It didn’t matter much to her, they wouldn’t find anything.

Elizabeth’s eyes went from the Detective back to looking for Dexter. This time it didn’t take long. He came from around a corner. Look at that stride. He looked so confident. He was a knife man, like she was. He took a personal interest in killing his victims, or he would, if he were a murderer like her. She bowed her eyes in disappointment as she was one of the few like herself.

The neat monster.

Elizabeth looked back up to see his eyes on her. “Hey… you. I saw you at the crime scene earlier. What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes skillfully glazing over what Detective Batista was doing.

“Apparently I’m the prime suspect,” she informed him her eyes shooting to the detective which just looked up for a moment before returning to removing things from her bag.

“Oh. Well oh,” he said looking awkward.

“My name is Elizabeth by the way. Please call me Liz though. Thank you again for letting me get to work earlier,” she informed him placing her hand out for him to shake.

He took it. His grip was firm, one that would make most women woozy in the knees for him. “Dexter Morgan.”

“Lovely to meet you Dexter Morgan,” she said with a slight lift and fall to their hands. “Now I hate to repeat myself but I swear I’ve seen you somewhere before,” she informed him although their hands hadn’t separated.

“I wouldn’t know where,” he told her again.

Elizabeth’s eyes furrowed and she recoiled her hand as if he had burned her. She knew why he looked so familiar, it was like looking in a mirror. “My mistake then,” she informed him with a smile. If she knew then could he tell too?

“All done. Sorry about the inconvenience Miss, I mean Liz,” Detective Batista said bowing his head as he stripped his hands of his gloves.

“Thank you Detective. You have my cell,” she said turning back to Dexter. “Will I see you again?” she asked him.

“Well after this case maybe?” he said with a shrug. She reached into a side pocket of her bag for a pen and a piece of paper. She quickly scrawled her name and number onto the pad before handing it to him. “It was great to see you again,” she informed him with a smile before she picked up her bag. She gave him and the Detective a nod before she began toward the elevator.

She could hear the detective tease him. “Woo Dex. I think she’s hot for you,” was all she could hear before the elevator doors slammed shut in front of her.

She didn’t believe “hot” was the best term for what she felt.

Interested?

Curious?

Seduced?

Probably.

Elizabeth Part One

It was all there. All familiar. All necessary.

It was like a checklist in her mind as she went about the tasks of her job. As each thing was completed she was able to tick off the box and continue to the next. If something wasn’t completed it messed with her balance, it made her irritable and it just became messy. She wasn’t messy.

She ticked off the box in her mind of preparation. The tools of her trade were neatly laid out on the table beside her, a shimmering display of silver on a mat black tray. Each glimmering item had a story, each one had a use but they weren’t always used. Her job didn’t always require the use of each of them even if she wished that it did.

Another box in her mind ticked off as the man began to breath rapidly and wriggle in his confinements. She quietly hushed him like a mother would a screaming child, cooing softly and running her fingers over his half bald head. “Hush, it will all be over soon. Once I have what I need then you will be free to go. It’s an easy trade. The faster you give it to me, the faster your able to leave,” she smiled, her white teeth shining down at him. She always thought that it gave a false sense of security. Made them think good things, making her job easier. What she didn’t know was that her sweaty face and exposed part of her body, the smeared dark lines around her eyes, the scraggly hair around her face made her bared teeth made her appear more like an alligator.

“What am I doing here? Let me go you stupid bitch! Let me out of here! Do you know who I am?” the man yelled at her angrily.

She hummed quietly as she frowned. She checked off the initial anger in her mind. Even if she didn’t like it she knew that it was necessary. Without it, or despair, then the entire thing didn’t work. She just happened to prefer the despair over the anger.

Gently she tapped the top of his head as she stood up straight and moved outside of the man’s peripheral vision. He began to thrash more violently. “I already told you how I would let you go, are you ready to give me what I want?” she asked him calmly, the clinking metal of her tools causing the man to pause in his thrashing to attempt to discern what she was doing.

She looked over her shoulder at him, his head pushing against the restraints in attempt to peer over at her, “Wha-what do you want?” he asked gulping hard. Probably his pride, he had asked her if she knew who he was. She did, it was one of her check marks. It was required before continuing through her course of actions.

She smiled to herself as she lifted a needle and an object that looked similar to a melon baller. “What do I want?” she echoed after a few moments delay. She tinked the objects together before she turned to face the man again. “I think you’ll be able to accommodate me without much effort,” she explained as she walked back over to the side of the table where he was strapped, the ominous click of her heels echoing in the otherwise empty room. She leaned over the man, the sweet, alligator-like, smile still on her face.

“What I want from you is your voice and your life,” she explained to him as his trashing started again, more violent then before.

“You’re the one…. the one from the news! The Bay Harbor Butcher…”

She tilted her head back and laughed. It wasn’t a light laugh. No. It was more of the type of laugh that you hear out of a truly amused person, the deep guttural chuckle of someone truly entertained.

Her laugh came to an abrupt halt as she slammed her hands on the table beside him, her earlier sweet smile turned into a true snarl of rage. “Don’t insult me with your media trash. I’m ten times the serial killer then the Butcher was. I leave a legacy of death in my wake. You should feel honored to be a victim of mine,” she said the rage falling off of her face almost as quickly as it came. She pushed herself gently away from the table where the man lay, her head tilting from side to side as she mulled over a thought in her mind. “If you must know who I am then I will tell you. I’m Elizabeth. I’m not in the news, and intend to stay that way,” she explained as she lifted the tools in her hand to eye level.

“Elizabeth what?” the man asked, his voice quavering with the fear and understanding he lacked moments ago. “Elizabeth will do,” she informed him noncommittally as she discreetly leaned over the table and lifted the slender needle up. “Now it’s time for that voice that you promised me,” she said to him as the needle’s point sank into the soft flesh of the eye.

The screaming echoed in the small room as Elizabeth marked another box off in her mind. She set the other tool down, leaving the needle in the man’s eye. She retrieved another item from the tray, the man’s whimpering intensified as it heard the rattling around.

Elizabeth grabbed a scalpel and with a deft movement it was sank deeply into the man’s flesh. She pushed hard, wiggling the instrument to get a louder sound from the man…….