2019-07-31 - Baby Steps Down The Hall

Choking awake with a gasp Easton sits bolt upright in bed. The light of dawn is just starting to filter in through the curtains that flap gently in the breeze from the open doors in the bedroom. He checks to make sure that he didn't wake Bennie before deciding to quietly slip out of bed. It'd be a lot easier if he could actually just do that, but instead he has to first wrap his leg and slip on his prosthesis which he tries to do as quickly and quietly as he can. Grabbing his running clothes, and phone he manages to make it out of the bedroom without waking her.

Another night dreaming about exhuming a body that shouldn't have been moved, shouldn't have been disturbed, is wearing on him. Multiple times he's checked his hands upon waking, expecting to still have the dirt under his nails. The feel of the coffin, the weight of it as they lift it out of the grave is so real.

Putting on his headphones, and lacing his running shoes up tight Easton tries to push that thought out of his mind. He has tried meditating a few times now and found it too hard to focus. Ironically he has ended up more frustrated and annoyed at the end more than once. Running is calming. A return to a time when he had a clear goal, being the best he could be. It feels good to push through the pain most days and force his body to do what he wants it to do.

Getting out on the road in the quiet morning, The Kinks blaring away in his ear as he watches the sunrise over the bay feels like a fresh start. But it only takes a few minutes for him to realize he didn't take the time needed to put on the prosthesis well this morning and something is rubbing and angry. He decides to just push through, he can enjoy the sunrise, enjoy the rhythm of his foot and fake foot hitting the pavement in a beat that is getting closer and closer to even. By the second mile though he knows it's best to turn back and finds himself appreciating the fact that he can do that without getting frustrated or angry about it. In the past this would have sent him into a fit of rage, but today he just accepts it and tries to be grateful for the run he did manage.

By the time he's back at the apartment his leg is burning angry with him, complaining at every step that he didn't properly care for it. But even still he takes the stairs. It's tradition. You don't go out for a run and then take the elevator. It's only four flights.

By the second flight Easton's already regretting it.

The moment his sneaker hits the nose of the stair he knows it's not good. Was he really that tired that he couldn't lift his foot another inch? Was he that distracted? These thoughts manage to run through his mind as he falls forward up the stairs at first and then impacting in multiple places, he slides down to the landing and just lays there.

Hopping on one foot to the elevator, his prosthesis now in hand and his leg in spasm Easton grimaces as he leans against the cool walls. He manages to hop down to his apartment and let himself in. His crutches are in the bedroom and he could use a shower, but all he can think about is getting to the couch. He falls onto it, managing to send the remote skittering away across the floor in the process. He swears at it but gets down to the business of stripping off his pants to examine his stump.

He could use his powers to get some ice, or the remote or hell probably even his crutches but instead he just pulls out his phone and starts texting Jay and Declan knowing he's going to need to be off his feet for at least a day or two, and he needs someone to cover at the bar.

The thought that Bennie is there in the apartment and is going to want to take care of him causes his teeth to clench. He knows it's a good thing. Mentally. But his chest feels tight and he already feels like picking a fight or just yelling in frustration. He needs to calm down, to breath and release the tension building and so he tries to imagine a warm light enveloping him as Dr. Glass instructed. He tries for a while before deciding that maybe Geoff was right. He needs a different focus.

Titties bouncing. Titties bouncing. Titties bouncing.

Yes, this is his mantra now. And strangely? It seems to help...