Rachel Graham s Precious Little Life Chapter 1
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Rachel Graham's Precious Little Life - Chapter 4 free porn video
I'd just fallen out of my head into my apartment, and my head was hurting,
but not because of the phase-shift in my skull. My shot had fixed that
right up. It was what the phase-shifting hitchhiker had said.
"You're someone I imagined up, years ago." he'd said. That, and the fact
that his world hadn't been involved in the spacetime rip back in the day
wasn't making any sense. I was going to need to talk to an expert on this
kinda stuff. Fortunately, I had my appointment with the QES specialist
later that day.
I logged on to good news: Sulyn was cleared to visit me next month. Her
parents weren't 100% ok with her being gay, but figured keeping us apart
was just going to make things worse in the long run. That meant cleaning
the apartment, and more importantly, getting my hitchhiker a little bit
more under control. Now that I'd made contact, I didn't know what that
meant. Would he be able to see what I saw? Feel what I felt? The thought
scared me. I was going to need the specialist to clear that one up for
me.
I hated that every part of my life was going to be affected by this other
person inside me, from here on out. It wasn't fair, and all it did was
make me angry. I'd kept a lid on my rage for years, but it was getting
harder to focus now. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I
had nobody to blame, but that didn't stop the anger from building.
My phone ringing startled me. I looked at it: Mom. I sighed and
answered it.
"Yes, mother."
"Just checking in on you. How's it going out there?"
"Pretty good. I just had my second shot and I have a doctor's appointment
later."
She droned on and on. It was impossible to get off the phone with this
woman. She was concerned, as was her right. QES led to loss of control
of the affected area, which in my case would leave me a brain-dead
vegetable if I weren't getting treatment.
Finally, after confirming that yes, I was okay, and yes, I was eating
enough, and no, I wasn't stripping or anything like that to pay the bills,
multiple times, I was free from the phone. I got dressed in a blur, and
left the apartment, heading downtown to the specialist's office.
The red line metro took me where I wanted to go, dropping me off less than
four blocks from where I needed to be. A quick walk and I was in another
waiting room. This one was less artificially modern than the therapist's
little medical boutique, but this time it was artificially traditional.
Fake wood grains that didn't match. A thirty minute wait and I was in an
exam room in a hospital gown. Some intimidating exam equipment laid on
the other side of the room, things with claws and lasers and needles,
looking more like something out of an interrogation room for war criminals
than anything with legitimate medical use.
Another 20 minutes pass. I expected a long wait from a regular MD, but
usually, in my experience, specialists kept better schedules. Or maybe I
was just imagining the time passing slower than it was. I'd left my phone
at home accidentally, so I had no way to know the time, nor did I have a
real connection to the outside world.
After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor came in. It was an older
man, with a cybernetic eye and a pronounced limp. Couldn't tell if it was
a QES replacement or an upgrade, but it was rude to ask in either case, or
so I'd been taught.
He was short, and to the point: "You've got a serious case of QES here,
Miss Graham. Total-brain entanglement is very rare, and none of the usual
treatment options are in play here." This much I knew already.
'Treatment' for QES was rather barbaric, honestly, leading to amputations
and organ transplants in over 90% of cases. Some Japanese hospitals had
begun working on some alternatives, but since it was a relatively new
phenomenon, it hadn't gotten very far.
"I understand. I'm on Phazblox forever, pretty much, then, huh?"
"Yes, and its important that you stay on it. The longer your brain
remains phase-shifted, the more risk of damage. I can't stress that
enough."
"My therapist mentioned working with the hitchhiker in subspace, what do
you think of that treatment?" After my encounter earlier, I didn't want
to try again without all the pertinent information.
"It's...a risky therapy. I've seen it happen before, successfully. I've
also seen it go very bad, and people simply stop existing because they
can't leave their minds."
"I tried subspace earlier today. Talked to the guy for about 30 seconds
before I fell out. He said some really strange stuff."
"Well, your therapist can help you there more than I can. It is an option
to consider, but I must again stress how important it is to stay on the
Phazblox."
"But long-term?"
"I can alter the formulation for your case. It'll combine with a sedative
so that you'll be unconscious while it stabilizes. And if your subspace
therapy is successful, we can wean you off of it in a few months."
And that was that. Two new prescriptions in hand, and the rest of the day
off work, I found myself downtown with little else to do. That was a lie.
I knew exactly what I wanted to do. A six-block walk from the office was
the first place I'd worked when I moved to LA, a general music shop called
Evans' & Co., while Dave's shop was specialized only on violin-family
instruments.
I wanted to go in for two reasons. The first was that I hadn't been in
since I left, and I wanted to see how the old crew was doing. The second
was that I hadn't played in any sort of group since I moved to California,
and Evans was one of the shops where people looking to start bands, or
replace members, or whatever would post, so I wanted to check the bulletin
board, on the off chance that a band could use a violin.
I opened the door and the old-fashioned bell crinkled above me. The store
was pretty empty, with a courier delivering a package at the counter and a
couple teenagers trying out a guitar they'd never be able to afford. As
the courier turned to leave, I noticed she was in sportbike gear. She had
no helmet, which meant I got an eyeful of the face of an angel. Even her
hair caught the fluorescent lights in such a way that she seemed to glow.
As we passed each other, I felt a shiver of familiarity, like I'd seen her
before, but just out of the corner of my eye.
I shrugged it off and gave Dmitri at the counter a big goofy grin. Dmitri
was your typical long-haired metal guitarist, 6'4, full of muscle, and
covered in tattoos. When I'd worked there, we'd become sort-of pals,
which meant we were always ribbing each other. I was glad he was still
there. "There's the munchkin! Long time no see!"
I dropped my bag on the counter and headed behind it for a hug. He picked
me up, as tall people are wont to do with short people when they hug.
"Yeah, I'm in the neighborhood for a doctor's appointment and decided to
stop in." I sat on a speaker stack, and he offered me some of his chips
before pulling them back.
"What kinda doctor? You ain't contagious, are ya?"
"No, just a dentist checkup," I lied, for reasons unclear to me. He
offered the chips back, and I took a couple.
"Well, as long as Doritos don't give you cavities, I think we're good
there."
"So, how's the crew going? Who all's still here, besides you?"
He shrugged, "Terry and Julie quit, but other than that it's mostly the
same." Julie I knew about. She was working at the coffee shop by my
house now. "What's new with you though? Still at Dave's shop?"
"Yeah, still working for him. Luke opened up his luthier business at the
shop, so I've been trying to learn from him."
Dmitri nodded along. "What else is new? I heard from Julie that you're
dating a high schooler these days. Does that mean the post-Sarah mourning
period is officially over?"
A dry, cynical voice came from the back, followed by the snarky girl it
belonged to, "Dating a high schooler IS the mourning period, Dmitri."
Kelly Evans. Daughter of the owner, and Julie's best friend. She dropped
a box full of stuff on the floor beside me, which caused me to jump a
little.
"And a fine good morning to you as well, Kelly," I said, glancing up at
her. She ignored me.
"Dmitri, customers aren't supposed to be behind the counter." I couldn't
tell if she was being sarcastic or not.
"If she's a customer, I quit. I'm not allowed to flirt with customers."
Dmitri laughed. Kelly rolled her eyes and disappeared into the back.
"So, what got delivered by courier girl earlier?" I was curious.
"Payroll. Boss has been getting paranoid so he doesn't trust it to Fedex
anymore. She works for that new company just opened up. You get a good
look at her? I mean damn!"
"Yeah I did..." I pictured her face again, but I couldn't shake that
feeling I'd gotten when she was behind me. It was just a feeling though.
I shook my head though. Sulyn. I was in love with Sulyn, and she'd be
coming to visit in a month.
We made small talk for a little while longer, and I checked the bulletin
board, grabbing a couple tags for bands that sounded promising. As I was
leaving, Dmitri called out to me, "Hey, you're coming to my show right?
This Saturday! At the Horsehead!" I nodded and walked out, hearing the
tiny bell crinkle again.
I got home an hour later and fixed myself a lunch of hot pockets and
potato chips. I checked my appointments on my phone, but there was
nothing for Saturday after work, and I was opening so I'd be off in time
to make it to the show. Dmitri was really proud of his terrible band, but
I wasn't going to mention to him how bad they were.
I trolled Craigslist for a half-hour, emailing every listing for acting
jobs. My agent, bless her, had become near-useless after a network TV gig
fell through and her boss had told her he wasn't going to stick his neck
out for her anymore, so it was up to me if I was going to get any acting
work. After that, I checked listings for bands, with none sounding as
promising as the two possibly-dubious paper tags I'd picked up at Evans'.
I didn't want to call them today, so I put them on my own bulletin board,
a corkboard hanging over my desk that I'd decorated with stickers,
pictures, and concert ticket stubs. The center was for actual business,
though, which is where I stuck the paper tags.
I sent an email to Sulyn telling her about my day so far, since she
wouldn't be on till later that afternoon. I responded to a half-dozen
emails from my blog, and flopped on the bed for a nap. My nap ended up
being longer than it should've been. I blame it on the extremely vivid
dreams.
My dreams were fitful and borderline terrifying. I dreamed of high school
girlfriends and fights. I dreamed of classes and memories that I'd had to
relive earlier. I dreamed of the humiliation and shame when that video
had circulated around school. But mostly I dreamed of that guy. My
hitchhiker, or symbiote, or whatever the current PC term for that parasite
living in my skull was. He knew me, I could see it in his eyes, but that
was impossible. His world wasn't ripped. That was impossible. He said I
was a figment of HIS imagination. That was impossible.
I dreamed of Sulyn. Her face, her eyes, her lips...her body. I'd only
seen it in pictures, but she was amazing. I didn't care that she was
slightly underaged and that it was possibly technically illegal for us to
have traded pictures, she was beautiful, and she was mine. An Asian
goddess with a wit to match my own, a woman who could do anything she
wanted with her life, and she'd settled for me. And in a month, we'd be
consummating our relationship in person. I dreamed of that.
And when I woke up, my hand was in my panties. I sighed happily and
finished myself off thinking about her, and what she'd do to me with her
tongue. I let myself drift off again momentarily, as I masturbated, but
stopped with a start when the face I saw in my sexy dream was not Sulyn's,
but that of the courier from earlier.
Cold shower. Cold, cold shower. So cold I could feel my heart racing to
pump my blood to catch up to it. Think about violin recitals. Think
about fencing. Think about funerals, shit, just think about something
besides THAT girl.
I felt sick for thinking about her the way I had. I didn't even know this
girl. I didn't think about other girls now, I wasn't the type to do that.
There was just something about her...
I called Evans' shop. After three rings, Kelly picked up. "Kelly, please
tell me Dmitri is still there." She put him on the phone. "Dmitri, tell
me you know that courier chick from earlier's name and where she works."
I scribbled down the company name, Mid-World Transsport, which he read
from the invoice, but he hadn't caught her name. I hung up as he was
asking me about the show Saturday.
I googled the company name and got their LA phone number. I was too
nervous to call, though. What would I say? "Oh, hi, I just had a sexual
fantasy about one of your courier girls, could you ask her to give me a
call sometime?" That sounded stalker-ish and creepy, even for me. I
pinned the number to the bulletin board anyway, not quite sure what, if
anything, I would do with it.
The rest of the day, I played violin and read. Sulyn emailed me back,
telling me about her day in return. I did some research on subspace, and
then finally some Amazon shopping before I went out for the evening.
Now that I'd been in subspace on my own (my previous encounter had been as
a passenger in a moving truck, and I'd been asleep when we entered), I was
starting to see the doors. It was really tempting to jump in and see
where they led to, but I had a feeling I'd be invading someone's privacy,
and I really didn't want to end up in Colorado dressed like this. Without
training and a map, you really had no idea where the other end of a
subspace road went.
I met Julie, her boyfriend Evan, my BFF Brittany, and her girlfriend
Tasha, and Tasha's sister Madison, and we wandered Santa Monica aimlessly,
ending up at Julie's coffee shop back by my apartment. We squeezed the
six of us into a booth and talked.
Evan was the one the fewest of us knew, so he was the focus of most of the
conversation. He was a recent transplant from Canada, he was an aspiring
director facing the harsh reality of the Los Angeles film industry, and he
and Julie met online. Eventually, though, the conversation got 'round to
me.
"So, Rachel, I heard you had to be driven to the hospital last week cause
of cramps, or whatever" Julie mentioned.
"Thank you Julie" I winced.
Heads turned to me. "No really, what's the dish, are you okay?" Brittany
asked.
"I'm fine. It's nothing. Just QES in my brain." I rested my head on my
palm. And the crowd goes silent.
"Oh my God..." Evan looked at me like I had two heads. Which,
technically, yeah, but...
"It's fine, really."
"Rachel. QES isn't something to joke about. Even I know better." Julie
piped in.
"I'm not joking. Look," I said, turning and lifting my hair to show them
the port in the back of my head, "It's for phase blockers. I'm probably
gonna be on it the rest of my life. Or until they decide to cut my head
off and make me a cyborg."
I got a giggle out of Tasha, who until then had stayed silent. She
usually did, as she was self-conscious about her voice.
"So for real? And you didn't tell me?" Brittany slammed her hands on the
table, rattling everyone's cups.
"Sorry! I've been busy! Freaking out and trying to tell myself it's
nothing!"
Brittany was in a huff. I sighed and tried to get the conversation moved
on. "So, Dmitri's band is playing at the horsehead Saturday. Are you all
gonna be free?"
"Dmitri, that giant you used to work with?" Brittany asked.
"Yeah. I was in the shop earlier, and he mentioned it." I replied.
"What were you doing downtown?" Julie asked.
"Dentist appointment," I had no idea why I kept lying about that. "And
since I was there, I stopped in to check the bulletin board."
"Gotcha. Is Kelly still working there?" Julie was inquisitive tonight.
"I figured you would know better than anyone, Julie. Besides, she's the
owner's daughter, you think she's gonna up and quit?" Madison spoke up for
once.
"If she knew what was good for her, she would. Besides, she hasn't talked
to me much since I left." Julie responded.
"I thought you two were BFFs."
I had successfully deflected the conversation away from me. We stayed
there until the place closed, and by then I was exhausted. Brittany and
Tasha walked me home, and we went up to my apartment for a nightcap.
I dug the pipe out of my sock drawer. I didn't smoke often, but
circumstances dictated it. I heard Brittany calling from the living room.
"You sure you're okay to smoke in your condition?"
I stepped out, saying "I'm not pregnant, and as long as I'm on the
Phazblox I'm as good as normal." Brittany had already rolled a joint, so I
packed the bowl of my pipe with some of her weed, and we laid back on the
couch to smoke.
After the three of us were finished getting thoroughly stoned, eating ice
cream sandwiches, and talking about the things you only want to talk about
when you're under the influence, the two of them crashed on the couch
while I dragged myself to bed and flopped down for sleep.
My life was not adventurous in any way.
Not yet.
Jeannie
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Rachel Graham s Precious Little Life Prologue
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Rachel Graham s Precious Little Life Chapter 7
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