january 15th, 2017 
rindge, NH & boston, MA
wakey wakey...

the voice is familiar, almost too familiar. it's far off and echoey, like it's shouting from the other side of a tunnel, breaking through the fog of sleep and dreams.

c'mon, get up...

a disgruntled groan slips past her lips and she blindly swats at the air in front of her. of course, nothing comes of this, because frankly, there's nothing actually there. it's just the vague sounds of birds chirping outside the window and a rogue beam of sunlight that's managed it's way through a break in the curtains and right across her face. she turns over, burying her face in between the pillow and his shoulder, trying to will away the throbbing headache. this is the worst hangover she's ever had and she wants nothing to do with it.

okay, seriously, stupid... wake up!

"ugh, fine." the words come out muffled, grumbled half into the pillow. "if it gets you to shut the fuck up." it takes her a minute to gather the energy to actually move, to convince herself that it's actually worth it. finally, she sighs a heavy sigh, and carefully, albeit begrudgingly, slips out from beneath his arm.

atta girl.

"i thought i told you to shut up," she mumbles, as her bare feet hit the hardwood floor, sending a chill through her naked body. she raise a hand to her face and rubs her eyes. between the shock of the cold and the jackhammering happening in her head, today is shaping out to be awesome. she glances back at the bed, and a sleepy smile works it's way across her face.

despite the fact that this weekend had gotten off to a pretty rocky start (and that was putting it lightly,) it'd actually wound up being pretty great... even if it was largely fueled by copious amounts of liquor and was potentially ill fated. for the time being, anyway, things were good, and she reminds herself that there's not a whole lot to complain about right now... but that thought is promptly cut short by the sound of snickering.

haha... jack hammering. get it?

"what?" she asks no one in particular, as if it's the most normal thing in the world. of course, if she were a little more awake, if her reality wasn't still clouded with a sleepy haze, there was a good chance that she'd actually realize what the hell was happening.

nothing, dear.

it takes a stupid amount of willpower not to just crawl back into the bed and sleep the day away. but she doesn't, because something in her gut tells her it's not an option. so she grabs a t-shirt off the floor, sniffs it absently, and pulls it over her head as she makes her way to the bathroom, yawning the whole way.

she kicks the door shut behind her and turns the shower on. maybe she can wash away the weird, hungover feeling that wouldn't seem to let up, maybe the steam will help her head stop aching. or at the very least, she might be able to drown herself, right?

the funny thing was, that she can't really remember drinking that much last night. at least not as much as she'd drunk the night before. hell, she was pretty sure that she'd fallen asleep before midnight. wasn't there some unwritten karmic law that said that if someone fell asleep before midnight, they got a free pass on the hangover?

this isn't a hangover, sweetie. quicker you accept it, the easier it'll be on both of us.

"ugh." she snaps, rolling her eyes. "no one asked you opinion." okay, so maybe she's losing her mind. maybe she's finally snapped. it was only a matter of time, after all. maybe this is just some bizarre long term effect of her brain injury that no one could have seen coming. that was a thing, right? trauma induced psychosis. it sounded like it could have been a thing, anyway. or maybe she has a brain tumor. or an embolism. or is it an aneurism? her nose scrunches up in contemplation and she makes a face, shaking her head.

this is nothing. it has to be nothing. there's no reason for it. because if it's not nothing, there are way bigger problems afoot than just the voice in her head.

... good god, there's a voice in her head and thinking about it is enough to tie a knot in her stomach. but she's not sure if it's that or this fucking headache that's making her nauseous. she inhales deeply, swallows hard and shuts her eyes as she sinks down onto the edge of the bath tub, burying her face in her hands.

"i've officially gone insane."

are you really, though?

all she can really do at this point is roll her eyes for what seems to be like the hundredth time since she woke up and ignore the voice. she sighs and stands up, pulling the shirt over her head and dropping it to the floor as she steps into the shower.

ten minutes pass. ten, blissful, silent minutes of going through the motions, before she finally wraps a towel around herself and looks at the mirror, steamed over from the heat of the shower. she reaches out and wipes it away, frowning at her reflection. "is it so much to ask, just to have one nice weekend?" she frowns, not even talking to the voice in her head at this point. "but nooo," she deadpans, "that can't happen. gotta start talking to yourself." she huffs, blowing a chunk of wet, blonde hair out of her face and turns around, leaving the bathroom door open.

come on, whit whit. just accept it. i'm not so bad. actually, i'm kind of fun.

this time, she doesn't grace the voice with a response, just sits on the futon that had been such a point of contention at the beginning of this weekend.

there's advil in your bag if you still insist on thinking this is a hangover. try it. i dare you.

"fine," she says, exasperation seeping into her tone. she scowls, grabbing her purse and pulling it open. it takes her a while to sift through the contents.

you really should clean out your purse. it's a fucking mess. is that a banana?

but she ignores it and keeps going. there's crumpled receipts, random snacks, a mostly dead cell phone, lip gloss, cigarette lighters, a glass jar filled with weed and miscellaneous pill bottles, before she finds what she's looking for. she pulls it out triumphantly and pops the bottle open, not wasting any time spilling four of the painkillers into her hand then taking them dry.

and like a moron, she waits. the thing is, she's not totally sure what it is she's waiting for. but there's no sound. no voice. just the throbbing headache that won't let up. she's okay with that. if that's all there is, she's happy.

she inhales deeply, smiling to herself. she curls her legs underneath her on the couch and dives back into her bag, looking for her cell phone this time. except something else catches her eye. a glint of silver, black and red. she makes a face and pulls it out, examining it closely. and despite the half dozen or so obvious red flags, her thumb presses down on the button.

"goddamni--" she doesn't even manage to get the whole word out before she disappears.

hasn't anyone ever told you not to press mysterious buttons?

the voice pops back into existence as she lands gracelessly onto the floor of her apartment with a heavy thud, her towel falling off and the contents of her purse spilling all over the place. all she can do at this point is groan as she rolls over onto her back. "i thought i got rid of you."

surprise, bitch!

she's on the verge of crying, she's that frustrated. instead, she sighs and concedes to whatever the fuck is going on here. when in rome, right? "what the fuck is happening to me?" the voice had said it'd be easier if she just gave in, right? maybe it would also provide her with some answers. (jesus christ, she could barely believe that she was doing this. she really was going nuts.)

i'm you, dummy. you're me. we are we. get it? wanda. whitney. whitney. wanda.we're deadpool. the prettier one, anyway. it's a thing. you're stuck with me.

"oh, great," she snorts staring at her ceiling. "just what i always wanted."

she rolls her eyes, shakes her head and rolls over onto her stomach, groping around until she finds her phone. there's only 3% battery left, but it's enough to send off a quick text, apologizing for disappearing, lying about having to catch a train back to town and promising to call him later. (she doesn't even think about the fact that all her shit is still back in new hampshire, but she sort of has more pressing things on her mind right now.) sure, she could have gone back, because it stands to reason that if that thing had brought her here, then it could take her back. basic logic. but right now, all she wants to do is get very, very drunk.