morag_sfh (morag_sfh) wrote in steadfast_heart,

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Saturday activities

Morag blew a wisp of hair out of her face and flexed her neck muscles. The lavitory was gleaming where she had taken a sponge and good old fasioned elbow grease to it. Stupid dreams! Stupid imagination! Even now, twelve hours after she woke up (for the final time) she could still see the pictures clearly. They were so clear and vivid that they had pushed every other story out of the way.

In order to push THEM out of the way, she had decided to go the route her mother would have approved of. Hard work never killed anyone, even if it did make a mess of her hair and favorite shirt.

"Bugger!" she muttered harshly, for the love of the word. It really was her favorite word not allowed in her house. "Bugger, bugger, bugger. This is not helping." Throwing down the rag, she got stiffly to her feet and stretched out her back.

It was this situation, definitely. Coming here had opened her eyes to just how different she and Greg were. It took her blinders off and showed her what he was really up against. The stuff at school was all fun and games. This was real life. She no longer wanted to cry about the situation. Now she wanted to do something about it and she was bound to this room. All her frustration was being burned off by cleaning but this wasn't helping.

She walked over to the tray that had held breakfast and poured a glass of water. This wasn't helping because she wasn't just frustrated about not being able to help Greg and Sabrina. She was frustrated because she was seeing a side of Greg that made her feel things that she had never felt before. Oh, she recognized them. Had even written about them before. In her mind, she kept seeing the scene as she had dreamt it and she knew exactly how she would put it on paper. Not putting it on paper was the biggest torture for her. Until she did SOMETHING with this, she was going to be bound by it.

Right now, she was terrified to have him walk through the door. With any luck, he would be gone for the rest of the day with either Sabrina, his grandmother or his father. If the gods were watching out for her, he would stay away until she figured out how to subdue the urge she had to rip his clothes off and do things she had only written about.
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