2010-03-03: Reversal



Date: March 3, 2010


Jo gets another letter.


Jo's Apartment — NYC

The apartment is empty other than the marine. And Jo, alone with nothing more than her thoughts — and the voices in her head — sits on the kitchen floor once again. She opens one of the cupboards and a small smile spreads over her lips at the bottle of Jack sitting there, urging her to open it. Josie, it's not worth it, a new voice presses into Jo's mind. Don't do it Katie, another agrees. Rolling her eyes, Jo unscrews the cap, "I'm going to drink you all away. And then you'll be gone and I'll be alone. With my thoughts."

Lazily she stands to her feet as she brings the amber fluid to her lips. Nectar of the gods. Placing the bottle on the countertop, something catches her attention. The unopened, unaddressed letter. Open it, Katie. Just open it, the woman's voice urges. She closes her eyes a moment as she tries to focus. And finally it comes to her, "Mom?" the voice had been all too familiar. "Oh Mom, it's been so long! I thought you were dead!" tears well in Jo's eyes.

The woman’s image flickers in Jo’s sight — almost tangible, yet still foggy, near-distant. Katie, a good marine doesn't break down, her mother's voice reprimands gently. Open the letter, dear. See what Teddy has to say to you now. Jo's lips purse. "I don't want to mom. I want to talk and tell you about my life! I… I quit the SEALs. I'm pursuing Teddy now… he needs to stop hurting people. I have to stop him… AND there's this guy that I …" Is a person supposed to tell their dead mother they're sleeping with a coworker? "…I may or may not be seeing. Dating is overrated though." Her red skin is rubbed at again. "And I'm changing colour and being a good marine most of the time. And… " she rubs at her skin again.

Katie, open the letter. "But mom!" Katie. With a sigh, Jo picks up the envelope and slices it open with her pointer finger in one fluid motion once again. She frowns as she draws it from the blank envelope and unfolds it. Picking up the bottle of Jack, she takes another swig before she reads:

Hey, Jo.

The hunter becomes the hunted.

Poetic, isn't it?


She drops the letter and the bottle causing whiskey to spill across her poorly kept linoleum floor. She frowns as she peers down at her red skin. Something isn't adding up.

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