OOC: I want to give a brief trigger warning for this post regarding self-harm.
As the doors of the Holodeck swished close behind her, Viyara made her way straight towards her quarters at a quick pace. Just slow enough that it wouldn’t be considered and that - hopefully - it wouldn’t draw too much attention. Though with this crew she was beginning to realise no one ever knew. What she did know was this: She really was in trouble. She could feel it. Neither the Captain nor the Counsellor would let her outburst, or maybe rather the things she had accidentally hinted at, rest. Of that she was certain. The question was: What would they do?Try and force her in some way to speak? Make her angry again in the hope she’d reveal some more? Wait and watch her closely till she made another big mistake like that and then corner her? Whatever they might think of or decide to do … it didn’t bode well. She didn’t want to talk. Not about what just happened anyway. That would lead to question about herself, her past, what had happened to her. It was too painful. And anyway, what good would talking do? It couldn’t change the past after all. It couldn’t make things right again.
Arriving at her quarters, she slipped inside and locked the door behind her. With the nails of her right hand digging deeply into the soft skin on her left forearm, she began walking restlessly around her room. ‘What am I going to do now?’ she thought desperately. If she hadn’t just been transferred here, she could have asked to go somewhere else. That had worked in the past after all. But no one would sign off on such a request right after she’d gotten here. She was certain about that. Or at least not without asking question and that was what she wanted to avoid. So what other options did she have? Even on a ship this size she could hardly run away from the Captain and the Counsellor. Not for long anyway. So she needed a battle plan. And she needed to get the story straight she was going to tell them when they came to talk with her about what had just happened. She needed to figure out how much she could tell, wanted to tell and where she could … bend the truth. Yes, that should work. Even with the Captain. She was only an empath after all. So as long as she was honest enough it should be fine. Shouldn’t it?
But what if it didn’t work? Would either or both of them push her till she’d tell everything? Was there another way out? Other than telling her story? Of course there was. She could just resign and disappear. It wouldn’t be the first time she had left a place completely where she couldn’t stay. It was an easy enough thing to do. Or at least it had been in the past. Though if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to leave. At least not Starfleet and maybe not even this crew. She shook her head and sighed. What a messed up and complicated situation she had landed herself in!
As she walked past the large mirror yet again, she glanced briefly at her reflection and was surprised when she saw a trickle of blood run down the side of her arm. Had she really dug her nails that deep into her skin without noticing it? How odd! It had been a long time since that had happened. Or since she had hurt herself on purpose. The pull, even urge to do so was still there. but she had it under control. Or so she told herself. Yet here she was, staring at her own reflection while being unable to unclench her hand. Now that she saw saw the blood, she could feel the pain. It calmed her down. Drawing her attention away from the chaos and pain within herself.
For what felt like an eternity, Viyara just stood there in front of the mirror and looked at her own reflection. Her thoughts and feelings numbed. When she finally managed to let go of her arm, she headed straight towards her bed. Kneeling down next to it, she pulled a dark red box out from underneath. For a moment she looked at before pressing her fingertip against the lock. As it swung open, her gaze fell upon it’s content: Old fashioned first aid supplies mostly (think early 21st century) like band-aids and bandages, the brace for her left wrist, wound disinfectant and a healing lotion or two. But also a Starfleet issued dermal regenerator and a medical tricorder. Neither of them the newest model. In fact they both looked like they might be decade old, maybe even a little older.
For a moment her hand hovered over the dermal regenerator. But then she reached for everything she’d need to clean up those crescent shaped cuts instead. It stung as the disinfectant touched her wounds. But again that pain felt good. She then wrapped a bandage around her arm. Once that was safely secured she locked the box again and hid it once more under her bed. Pushing herself into a standing position, she walked over to her dresser and pulled out a soft, long-sleeved and oversized t-shirt and a pair of Yoga pants. After changing quickly, she pushed her sleeves up to her elbows and grabbed a pen and paper. Sitting down cross-legged in the middle of her quarters and began to write out the story she was going to tell.
~Ensign Nazeen, Scientist
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