thatlibbychick | 061 // uh-oh

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061 // uh-oh

[This is a voice entry. Libby has been pushing buttons on her laptop over and over without really looking, trying to hit the one that switches voice on. However, she started talking long before she hit the right button. Basically, everyone listening is starting out in the middle of a sentence. She's hysterical and crying, and her voice makes that clear.]

--medical equipment in my room, someone...someone from the infirmary needs to come take it. Syringes, scalpels, succinylcholine...an echocardiograph machine. I can't--oh god, I think I'm going to be sick--

[Sounds of retching.]

I'm sorry, so sorry...I did things, horrible things, and they're in my head I can't make them stop and everything...

[She takes in a long, deep breath.]

It's all gone wrong.

[The sound of something, maybe glass, smashing.]

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[All you get right now is alternating laughing and crying, woohoo!]

[Martha hurried from the infirmary, given that everyone there was stable at the moment. Well, at least they sounded much more stable than Libby did at the moment. She took a deep breath before she stood in front of Libby's door. Her right hand banged quickly against it, and her left was close to her stomach; she probably should have it in a sling but she didn't want to bother.]

Libby... [She called out quickly.] Libby it's Martha.

[Libby froze for a moment when she heard the knock, feeling like a criminal caught in some terrible act. She called out something that might have been "it's open."

The inside of her room looked like a hurricane had been through it. Chairs and tables were upended and breakable items had been smashed against the floor and walls. She'd torn the clothes she'd been wearing into pieces while they'd still been on her, and the shreds now littered the floor. She had later pulled on a t-shirt that was much too long and far too big for her; it fell about to her knees and it looked like she was swimming in it. It was a man's shirt, and Hurley had left it behind for her when the time had come for him to go.

She was on the floor, sobbing. Reyes had retreated to the bathroom after she started throwing things.]

[Martha held her breath while he waited to hear if the door was open. Worry welled within her, sharp and dark and cold. This damned flood. This bloody flood. And it really was only just starting for those whom had lived it.

She opened the door quickly, ad her eyes went wide at the mess that was inside. She had expected something like this from the sounds in the background of Libby's entry, but this was just so much bloody worse. Martha moved quickly, picking her way through the bits of broken glass and twisted metal. Without hesitation, she made her way to Libby and she sunk down onto the floor next to her friend.

Gingerly, but only do to the worry about removing the stitches from her shoulder, Martha wrapped her arms around Libby and pulled her close.]

It's all right. [Her voice is soft and sad.] It's not you. What happened, it wasn't you.

No! [she cried, although she let herself be held.] I told Saxon it wasn't me, but that version of me, her life---

[She hid her face in her hands. She couldn't look at her friend and talk about this.]

You don't understand. What I did to them...what I got my Inmate to do to them...

[Martha kept her arms tightly around Libby, holding her close.] Libby... it wasn't you. You didn't make those choices, I know you'd never chose to do something like that to someone. Not even to Saxon, not even after everything he's done to you.

Her life isn't your life. It's not your choices, it's not you. I know it's not you, because if it were you, it wouldn't bother you so badly.

You're wrong. [She tried to choke back the tears.] You don't get it at all, Martha...it wasn't because I made better choices than her.

[She tried to curl up in on herself, as if she might be able to disappear if she could only make herself small enough.]

That Libby, she'd never been forced into a mental institution. That's it. If nobody had ever signed the papers against me...

["I'd be exactly the same" was how she meant to finish, but couldn't bring herself to finish that thought aloud.]

[When Libby curled to try and make herself smaller, Martha just held her tighter, and rubbed her back consolingly.] But someone did, Libby. Someone got you the help you needed so you didn't do it. You didn't become her.

You got better, you became who you are now. And this you? This person is not her. And will never be her now.

[When she said those words, Martha soothed a bit of Libby's hair behind her ear.] I know it. You'd never do that now.

I brainwashed people for a living before my family signed me away...the only difference is that I didn't get off on it like she did.

[There. She'd admitted it, finally. She didn't know how she felt about that, or how she was supposed to feel.]

I did it for my family; I was working for their organization. They didn't put me in the institute to help me. They put me there because I broke down after my husband died. I was a liability to them. And even after I got out, even after I stopped doing that, I just did one newly awful thing after another.

[She bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.]

I'm a terrible person and I try so hard to keep anyone from figuring it out. I try to keep it out of my thoughts...

Edited 2010-01-16 01:48 (UTC)

[Martha stayed silent until Libby finished speaking, but her grip didn't relax or loosen in any way. She wasn't sure what to say, really. This wasn't fair. Poor Libby who had just been so happy was now so unhappy. It wasn't fair. A part of Martha wanted to shout, to scream at the top of her lungs for the Admiral to undo all of this, but Martha knew that he would be as absent and unavailble about this as he was about everything else.]

No. No. Listen to me, Libby. [Martha moved her fingers to race Libby's chin and look her in her eyes. She found it was very important to meet people's eyes now, because there was nothing she could do to undo this. But she wouldn't, she couldn't judge Libby for this.]

You are not a terrible person. You're a good person. You're here to help people, and to make them better. You have helped people here. You're not a terrible person. Just the fact that this is bothering you so badly is proof of that. Look at me Libby. [Martha's voice was softer now, and her stare was intent.] Do you want to hurt me? Would hurting me make you happy?

[Libby tried focusing her eyes to either side of Martha's face for as long as she could, but it eventually wore her down, and she made eye contact, still weeping a little.]

No, I don't want to do that...!

[When Libby made eye contact at last, Martha made a small sigh of relief. With the words, there was a little relieved smile.] I know that. And that's how I know you're not her. You're not to blame for her actions. No one is to blame for what they did then. It wasn't us, it wasn't our space in time.

This is who we are. Right here, yeah? We're not those people. [And it was true, and Martha nodded with the words. No, it wasn't them.]

[Libby finally hugged Martha back, hesitantly. She was trembling.]

But I was so close to being just like her...one decision that was out of my control to begin with. I'm terrified.

[When Libby hugged her back, Martha hugged more tightly, ignoring the burn of the stitches in her arms.] I know... but the fact that you're terrified? I'm fairly certain it means you wouldn't go into that territory. You're a good person, Libby. You're a good person who was ill. You're not ill anymore.

[Libby wasn't as sure of that as Martha, but she didn't say it. What would be the point? It would seem as though she'd be looking for more assurance, when that wouldn't be the case. There just wasn't a good way for her to say exactly what she was thinking, so she just nods slightly--a rather noncommittal gesture.]

I can't go help in the Infirmary, Martha. I can't even bring this equipment back. If the people I hurt are in there for treatment, there's no way I can face them.

[Martha was certain of it, but she understood Libby's hesitance. This was something that was going to be far easier to address in others than it was going to be to deal with internally. Unfortunately. But Martha knows about the noncommittalness in Libby's nod and doesn't comment on it; Rome wasn't built in a day.

When Libby said that she couldn't go back to help in the infirmary, Martha was torn. There was the concern that perhaps if she didn't go back now, it would be harder for her to go back later, but at the same time she didn't want to force her friend into doing something that would be bad for her mental health.] If it helps any, I know the Master isn't... but I know that you know you can't hide from them forever.

[She looked away when she asked her next question.]

Is Swing there? I don't know how I'd look him in the eye--he's never done anything to me and I still... [She swallows.] She still went after him.

Edited 2010-01-16 07:06 (UTC)

If he is there, I haven't seen him, but I didn't get a good look around at everyone. [Martha swallows.] There are a lot of people down there.

[There was a frown, when Libby said that he'd never done anything to her, and she still went after him.] I know I sound like a broken record, but you can't blame yourself for that. Really.

It doesn't matter if I blame myself or not, or if I had no control over it. I can remember it all. I close my eyes and I see what was done to them. I can feel in my hands how it felt to do what she did.

[There was a little shiver in Martha when Libby said that about remembering it all. It struck a cord, it struck a deep cord and Martha forced it away; forced herself to go still. Now she wishes that she had some sort of pysch training, anything to make her feel less helpless over this. Instead she just hugs Libby tightly, strokes her hair and softly says] I know.

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061 // uh-oh

Either is good! And I didn't have anyone in mind. :3

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