Cloud Strife (fighting_strife) wrote,
Cloud Strife

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Cloud sat cross-legged on the couch, his diary set on one of his legs and a pen in hand. His eyes were closed for the moment, the quietness of the house in the middle of the night his only solace since taking in the three silver-haired men that had requested his aid. His diary dates told him that they had been with him for nine days now, and the weight of their needs somehow seemed to go above his own.

Snapping his eyes open, he looked at the slightly marked sheet of paper under his hand, smoothing down the sheets with the side of his hand. His rather feminine script neatly took up a couple of lines stating the date and the weather along with his mood for the moment. He contemplated what to write down, and he found it increasingly difficult with the passing days.

I still can’t sleep, so this is now day nine and I don’t think that I will be able to find sleep for awhile yet. My nose bleeds have become more frequent, but my ability to hold them off until I am alone has increased too, so I am not certain if any of the three are clueing in. I doubt it, as they are doing well to learn for themselves, and I simply have to give them specific step-by-step instructions the first time.

He rubbed his nose a bit, feeling a trickling and he reached for the box of tissues that he kept next to him in the evenings. While he couldn’t sleep and he only relaxed a little in the time when Kadaj, Loz and Yazoo slept, he seemed to manage to hold off the entire backlash until he was alone. He coved his nose before any of the blood could stain his diary or couch, and he shook his head a little at the light pounding in his temples.

The headaches had gotten worse as well as his stress level rose, and he had had moments where he had to excuse himself to use the bathroom just to hold his aching head in his hands. He had even had to reduce himself to curling in a corner of the shower while the water was on and rocking back and forth in hopes that it would soothe him. They were only made worse by the occasional flashbacks to the burning of his home, a part of his past that he had once considered not so bothersome. Now… it appeared to be back with a vengeance.

I think that the three will be relatively self-sufficient within a month. I have yet to spar with them due to time constraints and the amount that I have to teach them. I think they have a better time when I am not around, and I think that they will leave as soon as I have given them all they want and need.

I am convinced that Yazoo wishes I would fall off the planet and never come back.. or that he could have the pleasure of shooting me again. Loz is difficult to read sometimes, but I am certain that he would run me through with the Hound without a thought… or he may just suffocate me with a pillow. The only reason that I haven’t found Souba slitting my throat is because I haven’t slept at all, and even then, Kadaj is probably just amused by my kindness enough to pretend for a relative peace between us.

I cannot tell who is the worse enemy, them… or me. I hate looking at my reflection in a mirror with those eyes staring back at me. I keep sunglasses on as much as possible when other people are around so they cannot see what she has done to me, marked me as hers again. She’s still in me. I can feel her under my skin crawling around, and I fear I will become what I have tried to protect everyone against. I can save everything, it would seem, but myself.

Cloud looked at the fine script on the page and ran his bare fingers over the writing as if he could feel the words that he kept on the inside. Reading the words over, he had a vague notion that they sounded somewhat crazy, and he hung his head a little as a spike a pain ran between his temples. He pressed the tissue more to his nose until the bleeding had stopped, and he simply added the blooded tissue to the mounting pile next to him.

He turned his head and stared out the window that allowed him a view outside. The deliveries were mounting up, and he had tried to wave a few off for various excuses. One for the Gold Saucer had been insistent, and he had finally given in. He would have to leave the three for a few days to make the quick journey and back again. He could teach them a few more things before leaving them on their own for a few days. He thought they would like to be rid of him.

He snorted softly and slapped his diary closed, hiding it away so that no one could find it. Instead, he gathered up the bloody tissues and walked to the garbage, dumping them carelessly inside. He knew he should have taken preparations and hidden them, but he was so exhausted that he just couldn’t manage it at this point. No, he simply walked away to the bathroom.

He stepped inside and grabbed his toothbrush and applied some toothpaste, an automatic routine that he had fallen into. He rocked gently back and forth on his feet as he stuck the toothbrush in his mouth and proceeded to do the entire routine all over again. After brushing, he would clean up, make some food for the three, check on them once each, do laundry then sit and walk that really boring news program. When the laundry was done, he would wander around aimlessly or stare at some fixed point for hours before he would convince himself to do something else. He had twenty-four hours to fill as even when he tried to sleep, he just couldn’t… there was too much noise in his skull.

Cloud kept his eyes on the white sink as he rocked, unable and unwilling to look at himself in the mirror. He hated looking at those eyes, so he did it as little as possible even as the dislike festered silently within. No, he would do what he needed to in order to fulfill the routine that he had made and stuck to almost obsessively.

Coughing a little when he swallowed a little toothpaste, he shook his head but was forced to pause at a distinct growling of his stomach. Right, eating… He sighed and just continued to brush his teeth before the churning of his empty stomach did not appear to be the type for just hunger.

It only took a matter of seconds before he was bent over the toilet and dry heaving his way to near unconsciousness. He coughed and gripped the edge of the bowl to prevent the nauseousness from causing him to actually pass out, as he would deny that reflex for now. No, he did a good job worshipping the porcelain god, his shoulders shaking as his stomach made a desperate attempt to make its discomfort known to the rest of him.

He was all too pleased when the heaving passed with out a little blood and bile, and he tried to go about his business. He ended up returning to the pay homage to the porcelain god too much, unable to go without a half an hour without making the mad dash to heave and cough his way into getting rid of whatever he tried to soothe his stomach with, even water. He eventually just gave up leaving the bathroom at all, instead taking the time to count the tiles that made up the shower and recounting when he wasn’t sure it was right before having to heave again.

He considered his body treacherous for doing this to him so soon, after only nine days of no sleep and only occasional food? He should have been tougher than that, but it appeared that he wasn’t. He could just hope it ended before the three sleeping men decided to awaken and have a need to use the bathroom.
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