Chatterbox: Inkwell

Abbey was tired.

She was a lot of things, all at once, but mostly she was just tired.

Mason had recently started telling her she shouldn't work herself like this, that it wasn't healthy, that she needed to take a break, but she didn't listen. Why didn't he see it? She was so close, and he was telling her she should just take a break? No rest for the wicked, like her mom had always said.

Abbey brushed a few loose strands from her face with a drooping hand. She couldn't afford to be tired, not now. She steadied her hand and kept working. This was serious business. One slip up could be catastrophic. No sitting down. No breaks. No rest. No need, right?

Yeah, Abbey was tired. But as she twisted in each loose screw and connected the red wire to the blue, the excitement that pumped through her veins made her stinging eyes and shaky legs worth it. She was close, so close, and she only got closer with each drop of sweat and each accidental finger prick. She could hear Mason still pounding on the door to the garage (he'd started earlier that day) but she had learned to tune him out. He said what she was doing was dangerous. She said he was full of it.

Abbey's eyes were closing. She just had to connect two pieces and she'd be done. She'd be done! She just needed to stay awake to see it. She smacked herself in the face twice, hard, hoping it would somehow help her tired eyes stop stinging so much.

Maybe if she had been more awake, more alert, she might have noticed that Mason's knocks had suddenly and abruptly ceased. Maybe she'd have stopped and considered what she was about to do. Maybe she'd have seen the crimson begin to drip from under the garage door and pool on the concrete ground. Maybe she'd have stopped her work, or, better yet, destroyed it altogether. Alas, she didn't notice any of these things. Her whole focus was on the two pieces in front of her.

Her device was complete. She grinned, and laughed, and felt a whole rush of emotion. She was suddenly aware of how much her legs hurt. She staggered backwards into a chair and melted into it. She was tired. So, so, tired. And now she could sleep.

As her vision dimmed, she saw a figure open the garage door with a creak and quietly take a step down to the concrete floor. Abbey didn't see the red staining the figure's hands, or the frightening gleam in the figure's eyes. Abbey only saw the figure's face.

Looking at herself, this slightly older version of herself, Abbey smiled and went to sleep.

Her machine had worked.

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So, I hope this made sense to you. In all honestly, it didn't make much sense to me. This is completely unedited, by the way, I just sat down and started typing. Again, hope you can make some sense of this mess of words. Anyway, thanks for reading!