Semi-Charmed Kind of Life
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of Andy and Larry Wachowski, the geniuses behind the Matrix and I have no claim over them. This story is for entertainment purposes only and there was no money made off the writing and or posting of this story. The chapter titles are also lines to the Evanescence song, 'My Immortal', which I think went with the story really well.
Summary: During her first little while on board the Neb, Trinity gets a bout of the flu bug and succumbs to memories of her life within the Matrix, and a precious life she can't forget. Pre-Matrix. Pre-Neo. No romance between her and any other crewmembers.
Author's Note: Yes, once again I've got Trinity bedridden. But I just never see her sick or weak in the movies, and I figure she has to have that side in her somewhere. The story of Trinity's life is my own personal opinion of what her life was like.
Chapter 1: I'm So Tired of Being Here
Mrs Porter always had to call up the stairs for Erica to get off the computer at 2:50 to go and pick up Quinn from school. And she would always receive the same response from the 18 year old: silence. Erica Parker barely made a sound from her attic bedroom.
Erica was far too distracted to answer anyways. She was lying on her carpet, the soft tendrils of yarn prickling against her body as the incense burned on the plate next to her. The needle was hanging limply from her hand and the elastic strewn across the floor, as she hovered somewhere in her euphoria, wanting to wake up from her world.
The computer was on, softly playing music 24/7. The Used, The Clash, AFI, and sometimes HIM if she really felt like a depressing love song. The bed was unkempt, all the blankets usually kicked to the floor from her mad dash in the morning to get to her cocaine which lay in the bathroom not far from her. Mrs Porter, not her mother if anyone wondered or cared about the drug addict niece in the attic of Miranda Porter's house, would never come up and wake her up. She'd given up and even admitted freely that, "If that girl wants to kill herself, I'm not going to stop her. As long as she pays her rent, I'm fine."
Quinn was Erica's biggest worry. The precautious 14 year old was just passing the age when Erica had begun her little habit, and didn't seem to be surrendering to it as easily as her older sister had. But she was aware of it. She had come home while her sister was on a high. She had cleaned up her sister's vomit so Mrs Porter wouldn't find out about it. And she'd dished out more then enough of her hard earned money so her sister could stay.
In the serene cold of her attic, Erica closed her eyes and breathed deeply, the whole world seeming to go quiet and still, everything just slowing down and mellowing out. Her first high had been two weeks ago, and she was falling in love with this sort of slumber.
Her second escape from the cold malice of life was her computer, under the alias 'Trinity' as she proceeded to move rampantly through systems and bringing various computers to their knees. She was a killer gamer, never having been beaten by anyone . Her fingers were quickened, muscular almost, unlike the rest of her which was wasting away to nothing with the amount of cocaine and heroin she was doping herself with.
"Erica!" Mrs Porter shouted again from the bottom of the stairs, hearing the music coming through the weak floors of her house. She groaned loudly, hating that child and everything about her. She looked at her watch and dreaded the thought of Quinn having to walk home again. Her license was expired, and she would be god damned if she was going to do it again. She had better things to do then run around for Erica Parker. However, when her sister died, she had no choice but to take them in. And she had regretted taking Erica since day one. "Come on Erica! Get out in that car to go pick up your sister!"
The black haired girl opened her eyes, groaning slightly as she picked herself off the floor. The usually nausea feeling rolled over her, the whole world a dream like sensation. She felt numb again, a feeling which made her curl up on her floor and lay there, sighing deeply in relaxation, as she heard the pounding of her Aunt marching up the stairs. This woman…will die…she thought to herself, closing her eyes again as the door opened and Miranda Porter came in and proceeded to kick Erica rather harshly.
"Get up." She demanded. Erica groaned in protest, as her aunt grabbed her arm and 'gently' pulled her off the floor. "Get up!"
"Fuck off." Erica said, receiving a cold slap across the cheeks before being dropped to the ground. She loomed on all fours, just sitting there weakly and shaking. To her, the slap wasn't even hurting. Every muscle was just going limp under her.
"You fucking bitch." Miranda said, picking the needles up off the ground and taking them with her. "Heroin. You little bitch. I can't believe you would do this shit in my home!" Erica laughed a little, the drug completely taking away all sense of her judgement.
"Where's the rest of it Erica?" She demanded, going into the bathroom and proceeding to search all the drawers. She found empty bags with white residue littered through the drawers. "Come on Erica, where's your stash?"
"Screw you." The 18 year old replied quietly. "Screw you!"
Miranda moved back to her and slapped her again.
"You never talk to me like that!" She said loudly, Erica on the floor and blood dripping from her lip. "Not when you're in my house and living by my rules. Now tell me where the rest of this shit is hidden!"
"Up your ass!" Erica said with a small shout. Miranda got some sort of fire in her blue eyes, dangerously glaring at Erica and raising her hand as if prepared to slap her again. The attic allowed sounds to come up from the main level, and the front door creaked open from the foyer and the sound of Quinn's heels traipsing across the floor were heard. Miranda lowered her hand.
"We'll discuss this later." She said, pointing a finger at Erica who fell back on the floor, her head narrowly missing the chair leg. Miranda walked to the door, taking the garbage bag from Erica's trash can and shoving the items inside before closing the door rather loudly.
Erica couldn't feel like blood coming from her cracked lip. And she couldn't see the massive red mark on her cheek. She couldn't even hear the conversation coming from downstairs where Miranda was no doubt telling Quinn some lie about why her sister couldn't come to pick her up. She didn't even care anymore, closing her eyes and allowing herself to drift lazily with the flows of heroin in her veins.
Her whole grisly situation with her Aunt had begun six months ago, long after Daddy ran out the door with some married whore and not long before Erica was back living at home. Her mother was drunk, as usual, talking to Quinn about something even her eldest daughter didn't understand. She was holding a half empty bottle of vodka and a cigarette in the other hand and as she got up, saying she would go for a drive, Quinn couldn't make any protest. Her nose was already bleeding a punch to the face.
Erica, who should have been home protecting her sister, was out with Dylan, Jack and Linda, sitting in Linda's apartment with cocaine dust scattered over the floor and empty bottles lying everywhere. They were laughing, carrying on, when the cell phone in Erica's purse. It took her ten minutes to find it, and by the time she did, the cops had already left a message about her dead mother and where she could find Quinn.
Quinn Parker was at Miranda's house already, and it was in the will that Erica should stay as well. Miranda didn't like Erica from the first moment they met. She was the one Aunt that neither sister had heard of before. But she knew them. She had the pictures of the two when they were younger, each in black and each looking sadistic and cold. It was their nature. They shared the same black hair, Quinn's being a little more curly then Erica's, but very much the same. Their eyes were the same blue-grey, almost the colour of sadness itself. They were like dolls in photographs, both trying to stand out of the way of the camera, reluctant to have their picture taken as if some untimely evil would come from the flash.
It was the six months that had hit both of them the hardest. Each had frozen themselves into individual shells. Dylan, Jack and Linda only saw Erica online anymore. She had once had a job as a bartender, but was fired after missing too much work. She now devoted herself to a life on her computer…and to the brain dead girl who was lying on her bedroom floor, half asleep.
The stairs were creaking again, but not with the boom that Miranda gave them any time she was 'forced' to come and speak to the older of the two. This time, it was softer, like someone was literally creeping up the stairs. Erica would have been able to tell that it was Quinn had she been awake, but the heroin just told her that it was all going to be okay. It was like some strong, sadistic security blanket that poisoned her very being.
Quinn opened the door, seeing the visage of her sister lying half dead on the floor. She didn't seem to be affected by this, the whole situation very familiar to her. She instead stepped inside, closing the door behind her and leaving it slightly ajar as she lay down next to her sister and curled beside her. Erica didn't react, her euphoria continuing to wrap her in a world of dreams. Quinn sniffled a little, laying her head on her sister's stomach and feeling it rise and fall with every breath. Erica moved a hand to Quinn's head of black curls, moving her fingers in them slowly like a mother would do. She passed out a moment later, sleeping soundly on the floor as her sister curled closer to her lifeline and closed her eyes, not stopping the tears the hit her sibling's black shirt.
Something cold was on her forehead, and small droplets of liquid were moving over her cheeks, cutting through the thin layer of sweat and making her shiver. Trinity reached for it lifelessly annoyed with it, as a hand gently took hers and placed it back on the hard mattress.
"Trinity?" Someone asked her gently, kindly. Like a father summoning a child from slumber. She moaned softly, her throat dry and scratched raw from the bacteria in her lungs. Her eyelids parted, the glossy surfaces reflecting the light and having to close again in some frivolous attempt to soothe her aching head. The dull pound became a steady ache as she came back to life. "Trinity?" They asked again, not sure if she was conscious or not. She coughed in response, sitting up in pain and weakness as a comforting hand landed on her shoulder and another behind her head, supporting it as she was laid back down. Trinity blinked, leaving her eyes open enough that they were not blurry, but not enough to let enough light in. Morpheus pressed the cold rag against her forehead again.
"Morpheus?" She croaked, and it didn't come out as full as she had expected. The captain nodded, moving a hand over hers as she fought against the clouds in her mind. "What happened?" Her voice was quiet, barely audible, but Morpheus heard her.
"You fainted." Morpheus replied quietly. "Just after we were got back. Do you remember anything?" Trinity shook her head frantically, trying to clear it and allow her to remember. Everything was so blurry, fading together into a big mass of memory. Morpheus didn't expect her to remember much. She had been complaining of stomach pains earlier that day, coughing on and off, and Morpheus had no idea where it could have come from. Exhaustion, her immune system being lowered after being unplugged, he'd seen it happen a couple of times. He'd never seen it as badly as with the woman before him, but he'd seen it happen.
"I remember being inside." She answered quietly, almost ashamed that she couldn't verbalize the events after the plug was removed from the back of her neck. She shifted uncomfortably, the whole room confining her. "Nothing after that."
"You have a fever of 101. I don't doubt that you can't remember getting back here." She shivered under the blankets, breathing heavily as he removed the cloth and dipped it in the small cup he'd brought it before pressing it back to her head. She quivered, her stomach aching and doing flip flops. She held a hand to it, biting on her lip to keep herself from heaving. Trinity hurled herself forward, leaning over the edge of the bed and finally vomiting on the floor. Morpheus supported her, running a hand over her back and smoothing his hand over her hair. The vomit sank under the grate, moving itself into the systems. It would get cleaned eventually by one of them.
Trinity relaxed over his knee, trying to push herself back into the bed. With care, he lay her back down, straightening out the IV tube in the plug on her forearm. Trinity whimpered softly, her mouth still tasting like vomit. He was worried she couldn't keep any liquids down, but he lifted her head anyways and pilled some clean water into her mouth, allowing it to slide easily down her throat before giving her an additional sip. The woman breathed heavily, swallowing hard as the liquid soothed her throat. The vomit taste was still there, though not as heavily as before.
Morpheus glanced at the IV bag on the wall. It was dwindling, and he would have to refill it if Trinity continued to vomit. She turned over, moaning softly in some form of delirium. The captain sighed deeply.
"Rest Trinity." He said quietly, as the black haired woman visibly relaxed and fell into a restless slumber.
I realize sickness would be virtually impossible aboard the Neb. This is a little AU, since I wanted to show flashbacks of her life in an original way.
Please R&R and constructive criticism makes my day!