Naked Girl Beginnings 2

Daria stood in the rain. The trench coat she wore was already soaked through. But though the temperature made others scurry down the sidewalk towards their destination, and warmth, she felt nothing. Daria was neither warm, nor cold. She existed in a stasis, almost as if she was neither here, nor there. Her life had now become a mass of in-betweens.
She couldn't go back to work, even if she still had her old job. The ever so helpful Dylan had forgotten to mention that her recovery took nearly a year. So that wonderful job that she loved was no longer hers. Even if it had been, there was no way that she could go and teach a room full of elementary students when she had fists that could become claws, and metal, and a foot that was a talon. She could barely put on clothing without ripping them to shreds. So most of the time she hid alone and naked in her tiny little house. Occasionally though, she needed to be near people, she needed to feel like she was a part of the world. Even if she was now a genetically engineered freak. On days like this, she would put on her trench and just walk. Sometimes she would make it downtown, walking without thought or destination. People would stare at her, watching as she slowly moved down the sidewalk.
Daria had lost purpose in life. She merely existed now. And so on this rainy day she walked down the street immersed in her self-loathing. She lost track of time, as time meant nothing anymore. She had nowhere to be.
There were a few moments when she thought about contacting her mother and sister. But it had been almost a year, and they thought she was dead. Plus, if she were to contact them she would have to deal with the look of horror that would overcome her mother’s face, or worse yet, pity. She just couldn’t deal with that. So she hadn’t contacted them in the week that she had been awake.
Her fear of her family’s reaction was small and insignificant compared to the longing and fear that constantly accompanied her thoughts when she thought about her girlfriend. Daria missed her voice, her smile, her love. But Daria couldn’t accept herself this way, why would anyone else ever see her as something other than a freak. So every night when Daria’s hand hovered over the phone, mere seconds away from calling her, something held Daria back. Some demon ruled her thoughts, telling her that she wasn’t good enough for love. She was supposed to die, and since she didn’t have the decency to do it right the first time, she should let those who thought she already was dead believe it. But when she woke up some mornings with the beautiful face of her lover kissing her softly in her thoughts the voices seemed less powerful. But still, she couldn’t force herself to do it. Because for every pleasant dream she had, there were significantly more nightmares. Dreams of her murdering, killing, stealing, and ultimately hurting the ones she loved. They followed her into the waking hours, keeping her fear alive and well. Controlling her life.
Daria sighed as she turned around and headed back to her house. On the way she stopped at the liquor store and got a bottle of Bacardi. Sweet dreams were indeed made of these, well, at least her nightmares weren’t as bad with her dream catcher in a bottle. So bottle in hand, she walked to her little house, taking sips as she went.
She knew she was in trouble when she saw the car parked along the sidewalk in front of her house. It wasn’t the car that was her problem though. In fact, the blandness of the car could disguise the utter chaos that she was about to encounter. Because she knew that the tiny white 6 cylinder was the transportation for the most dangerous thing she had ever faced. A being of mass devastation. Her little sister, Savannah.
Daria took a long sip out of her bottle as she opened her door.