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There is no greater compliment in the world than being the uncooperative catalyst of another person's misery, if not all-out self-destruction. The critical word here is uncooperative. It is easy, lazy, and dishonorable to deliberately distress another human being. But to do so unintentionally, or better yet, unwillingly-for one's mere presence to cause another pain, not by any act of violence, but by the force of the bottomless pool that is unrequited love, that pool that both draws and prevents the other from moving closer—to be loved and not to love back: this is the definition of power.

A. Natasha Joukovsky, The Portrait of a Mirror.

#crazy opening to a book #alison.

LOCATION: The 2nd floor landing DATE: Tuesday, September 6, 2005 (veeery early hours like 2:30-3AM) Closed starter for @aliscntcrres

The goal was simple: get her two behemoth-sized suitcases to the basement and hide them there. She couldn’t risk leaving them in her room where curious eyes might stumble upon them. The storage area of the basement was rarely visited anyway, filled with old furniture and forgotten memorabilia. It seemed like the perfect hiding spot. She just needed to make it there without alerting anyone.

It was the dead of the night, past the hour of 2 in the morning since she begun this painstaking task to make sure everyone was asleep or at least in their rooms. In a house as massive as Woodrow, she could only hope the other wards wouldn’t hear her. Perhaps it was just her sleeplessness over the past couple of days, but each step felt like it echoed through the halls, the sound magnified by the stillness of the night. Her heart was pounding in her chest, not just from the exertion of trying to get such heavy things down steps but from the anxiety of being discovered as well.

"Putain." She paused once she finally made it on the second-floor landing, taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat from her brow. To lug the large suitcases down were one thing. To do so while trying not to make any noise felt like another level of difficulty. Just one more flight of stairs, she thought to herself.

She adjusted her grip on the suitcases and was about to start down the next set of stairs when she looked up and saw Alison standing in the hallway. Natalia froze, her heart racing as she held her breath. She'd blame the late hour on how long it took for her to attempt to save herself from the awkward situation.

"Hi." Thank God most of the lights were off and the halls were dim. Natalia was sure she was as bright red as a tomato. "I'm just..."

Just what? She couldn't think of anything to say. Moving clothes that were last season out of her room? Why would she be doing that at two in the morning? Or doing it herself when there was a team of staff here? Her mind was blank, and the inability to come up with a plausible explanation made her want to break down in tears or kick something in frustration. Or both.

#alison.#aliscntorres #ignore the length i suffer from setting the scene disease etc etc

LOCATION: Somewhere on Woodrow's grounds DATE: Sunday, September 24, 2005 Closed starter for @aliscntcrres

Wakes, Natalia decided, were a dreary fusion of sadness and the forced politeness of networking events. After the funeral concluded, she found herself stuck in an endless loop of shaking hands and accepting condolences. The routine quickly became familiar: polite smile, nodding at the right moments, and being largely agreeable as people shared their memories of Richard. It just as quickly became tiresome too.

What she really wanted to do after the chaos of the funeral was talk to Alison. She knew the older ward would have a thing or two to say about the eulogies that were given, but she seemed to have vanished among the throng of attendees. Natalia kept a watchful eye out for her however.

It took a little longer than she hoped, the time filled with obligatory small talk and the grief of strangers, but she eventually spotted Alison’s familiar dark hair and impeccable posture across the lawn. Seizing the moment, Natalia excused herself from a conversation she was in and made her way towards the older ward.

"Hey," she said, her voice tinged with relief. "I've been looking for you. Where have you been?"