Slow healing

Who: Nic and open
Where: Streets around town
When: late afternoon

Okay, so Caleb had been right about a few things the night before. Chief among them? Nic was sore. She'd crashed out right after getting in, stuffing her sweatshirt into the wash with her empty backpack to try and purge the blood from one and the rum from the other.

At least she'd gotten a good sleep that night, and her mom had been smart enough to let her sleep. Because that morning, Nic was fit to quote Oppenheimer, except that she had no idea who he was. I am become Death, destroyer of worlds. Her face was a mess, scraped and bruised along one cheek, and her hands weren't much better.

But Nic was always one to count the little victories, and she was happy that if she'd had to lose a nail, it was on her middle finger. She'd struggled through breakfast, popping and stretching her ankle all morning as she waited for her mother to head to work, and when she was finally gone? Nic wasn't far behind.

She'd lost most of her cigarettes the night before, and there was a demon riding her, spurring her onward with a slight limp as Nic made her way up the 4th Street for a fresh pack. It took her longer than it usually would've, but it was worth it for the shock and concern Mrs. Kim gave her when she headed in. Nic left with two fresh packs in tow, shuffling along with a fresh cigarette burning in her lips.

At least she had all of today and tomorrow to try and recoup, though without her skateboard? Nic was bored. She'd dug out an old pair of headphones and grimaced at their massiveness, but they would have to do. Slipping the huge stereophones up over her ears, Nic dug in her hoodie to turn some music on, scowling with each step on her bad foot as she headed out to see how the town might amuse her for the day.