This is Not a Story About Sawyer
Mar. 1st, 2005 08:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kiki_miserychicTitle: “This is Not a Story About Sawyer”
Author: misery chic
Medium: “Lost”
Rating: SSNL for some sex and naughty lanuage [take that MPAA]
Pairing: Sawyer/Other
E-mail: miserychic47@hotmail.com
Summary: Snippets that explain reasoning, not necessarily condone.
Posted here and here with awesome comments.
James’ daddy shot his momma,
He laid perfectly still under that bed, watching the back of his daddy’s boots until the next morning. Somehow he had managed to fall asleep and his developing muscles protested the previous night’s sleeping arrangement.
then shattered his own skull.
That morning little James awoke at the same time he did every week day morning when his mother would playfully snatch the blanket off his bed. His body seemed to remember the time like a built in alarm clock. He had crawled out from under the foot of his bed, taking great care in avoiding his father, who was sprawled over his covers.
Was there pieces of bone and brain on the wall behind him, boy?
After humming “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” twice while brushing his teeth, James changed into a fresh set of clothes. Skipping breakfast, he had opted to sit on the coffee table and watch his mother’s unstirring form. She had come to rest on the couch, despite having struggled she looked as if she’d settled down to take a nap, but James knew that wasn’t the truth. He had been nearly late because he insisted to himself that he needed to find something to cover his mother. Not wanting to go back to his room again or into his parents room, he placed a bath towel over her face before he closed the door behind in on the way out. Thankfully, the school was in walking distance of his house and no one had ever seen a boy blending into the kids unloading from the buses.
Do you know what you’re ma did to deserve it?
Light turned out and eyes closed, he inched across the floor to sleep under his bed. He got himself up, walked to school, fed himself, and lived in the house like that for almost a week before anyone noticed. Unfortunately, the loudmouthed police chief’s fat son was the first to impart his new found knowledge with the world a full twenty minutes before the authorities had realized young James was already at school that morning.
Huh?
Later, James sat on the hood of the police car and listened to the older boy get a lecture from his father. He wondered if his mother’s eyes could see him any longer.
~//~
She fucked a con man and he stole all your daddy’s money.
She was pretty and blonde with bright pink cock sucking lips that wouldn’t stop moving even after he shoved his hand over it and her eyes. She simply pulled two of his fingers into her mouth and got louder. Hair flung back against the fabric of his foster mom’s car seat, the girl moaned low and throaty while clawing at his sides.
Do you understand what that means?
With his eyes clamped shut, James imagined her splitting apart under him and increased his speed. Finally giving up, he stilled his motions, then added tiny spasms to his frame. Pulling himself out, he swiftly finished her off in minimal strokes before starting to put his clothes back on. The girl just sat there, half lying down and half leaning on the door.
No?
“Did you go?” Her small voice devoid of the mature sounds it had produced moments before. She snatched her sun dress from the passenger seat head rest, suddenly self conscious.
I didn’t think so.
“’Course I did, baby. Now let’s get you home, so yer father doesn’t set his mind on shootin’ me.” He answered, turning on his charm and thickening his accent. Reaching up to swipe her hair out of her eyes and back behind her ear, he coaxed a smile from her pretty mouth.
~//~
It means you don’t matter anymore,
“What’s your plan, James? Everyone has a plan.” He hated all the court appointed child psychologist. They were all the same and blended together in his memory to form a sort of five headed monster with pencils for claws and ink drop painting of vaginas for eyes.
“18 and out, lady. I only got a few more years to go in these hell holes and I’ll be gone.”
~//~
Little Jimmy Boy.
Three weeks after his 18th birthday, he’s sitting in the front seat of a stolen Ford Nova with a 9mm and the $815 dollars he got with it. Years of gathering information, planning, dreaming, and there he was bawling his eyes out like a child. Alternating between holding the barrel of the gun in his mouth and viscously scrubbing the wetness away from his face, he eventually spat in the rearview mirror. He slammed the car door shut as he got out and walked the remaining way to the motel.
You may as well not exist.
“And your name?” The clerk asked as he watched his newest guest smack a fist full of cash on the counter with the smirk of a drenched cat.
“Sawyer.” With no hesitation.
Author: misery chic
Medium: “Lost”
Rating: SSNL for some sex and naughty lanuage [take that MPAA]
Pairing: Sawyer/Other
E-mail: miserychic47@hotmail.com
Summary: Snippets that explain reasoning, not necessarily condone.
Posted here and here with awesome comments.
James’ daddy shot his momma,
He laid perfectly still under that bed, watching the back of his daddy’s boots until the next morning. Somehow he had managed to fall asleep and his developing muscles protested the previous night’s sleeping arrangement.
then shattered his own skull.
That morning little James awoke at the same time he did every week day morning when his mother would playfully snatch the blanket off his bed. His body seemed to remember the time like a built in alarm clock. He had crawled out from under the foot of his bed, taking great care in avoiding his father, who was sprawled over his covers.
Was there pieces of bone and brain on the wall behind him, boy?
After humming “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” twice while brushing his teeth, James changed into a fresh set of clothes. Skipping breakfast, he had opted to sit on the coffee table and watch his mother’s unstirring form. She had come to rest on the couch, despite having struggled she looked as if she’d settled down to take a nap, but James knew that wasn’t the truth. He had been nearly late because he insisted to himself that he needed to find something to cover his mother. Not wanting to go back to his room again or into his parents room, he placed a bath towel over her face before he closed the door behind in on the way out. Thankfully, the school was in walking distance of his house and no one had ever seen a boy blending into the kids unloading from the buses.
Do you know what you’re ma did to deserve it?
Light turned out and eyes closed, he inched across the floor to sleep under his bed. He got himself up, walked to school, fed himself, and lived in the house like that for almost a week before anyone noticed. Unfortunately, the loudmouthed police chief’s fat son was the first to impart his new found knowledge with the world a full twenty minutes before the authorities had realized young James was already at school that morning.
Huh?
Later, James sat on the hood of the police car and listened to the older boy get a lecture from his father. He wondered if his mother’s eyes could see him any longer.
~//~
She fucked a con man and he stole all your daddy’s money.
She was pretty and blonde with bright pink cock sucking lips that wouldn’t stop moving even after he shoved his hand over it and her eyes. She simply pulled two of his fingers into her mouth and got louder. Hair flung back against the fabric of his foster mom’s car seat, the girl moaned low and throaty while clawing at his sides.
Do you understand what that means?
With his eyes clamped shut, James imagined her splitting apart under him and increased his speed. Finally giving up, he stilled his motions, then added tiny spasms to his frame. Pulling himself out, he swiftly finished her off in minimal strokes before starting to put his clothes back on. The girl just sat there, half lying down and half leaning on the door.
No?
“Did you go?” Her small voice devoid of the mature sounds it had produced moments before. She snatched her sun dress from the passenger seat head rest, suddenly self conscious.
I didn’t think so.
“’Course I did, baby. Now let’s get you home, so yer father doesn’t set his mind on shootin’ me.” He answered, turning on his charm and thickening his accent. Reaching up to swipe her hair out of her eyes and back behind her ear, he coaxed a smile from her pretty mouth.
~//~
It means you don’t matter anymore,
“What’s your plan, James? Everyone has a plan.” He hated all the court appointed child psychologist. They were all the same and blended together in his memory to form a sort of five headed monster with pencils for claws and ink drop painting of vaginas for eyes.
“18 and out, lady. I only got a few more years to go in these hell holes and I’ll be gone.”
~//~
Little Jimmy Boy.
Three weeks after his 18th birthday, he’s sitting in the front seat of a stolen Ford Nova with a 9mm and the $815 dollars he got with it. Years of gathering information, planning, dreaming, and there he was bawling his eyes out like a child. Alternating between holding the barrel of the gun in his mouth and viscously scrubbing the wetness away from his face, he eventually spat in the rearview mirror. He slammed the car door shut as he got out and walked the remaining way to the motel.
You may as well not exist.
“And your name?” The clerk asked as he watched his newest guest smack a fist full of cash on the counter with the smirk of a drenched cat.
“Sawyer.” With no hesitation.
