Out of Control (Jim Moriarty)

Prologue

She couldn't remember when she had picked up her first cigarette. Judging by the ashtray filled to the edge, it must have been quite a few days ago. Or was she smoking that much? She didn't know. She didn't notice anything anymore these days. She couldn't hear the overly loud music blasting from her speakers, neither could she see the low-hanging smoke in her flat nor feel the hands on her shoulders, trying to make her relax. She couldn't relax. Caffeine, nicotine and possibly other stimulating substances had opened her eyes wide and made her unable to sleep, the lack of sleep making her paranoid. What sparked the paranoia more was that she'd done things she didn't remember; she'd had sex she didn't remember. Sometimes she found Joey in her house and she was never sure whether she invited him or he invited himself. The life in her eyes was lost and the bounce in her hair had long disappeared.

And all of this was Moriarty's fault.

It had been months (?) since she'd last seen him. She'd tried to go back to her 'normal' life of planning and executing murders, but none of it did anything for her anymore. How could a simple murder of someone ordinary excite her now that she knew her true capability? She'd defeated the King of Crime himself and now there was nothing left to do. She was left with emptiness and utter, inescapable boredom. Every time she got drunk or high she had to remind herself not to get in contact with him; almost as if he was an ex-boyfriend. It would be so easy just to text him and pick another fight, but she shouldn't. She couldn't show him this weakness. She couldn't show him he had been right when he said he was the most exciting thing she could get. So here she was. Alone.

She rose from her chair, vaguely noticing a stiffness in her barely used limbs. Unable to lift her feet properly, she shuffled her way to the bathroom sink and used way too much energy to let the faucet run. With both hands, she splashed some freezing cold water in her face to get to her senses. What had become of her? She'd fallen into neglect. She couldn't remember eating nor properly hydrating and that showed in her caved in cheeks and cracking lips. The reflection in the bathroom mirror was unrecognisable. Her glowing skin had turned grey and her eyes red, while her usually red hair had grown out and faded to a vague image of her own light brown hair. This had to stop. Something had pulled both her feet to the ground at once. She had to get back into the game, because Moriarty was winning like this. It must've been his plan all along, to let her win and then slowly watch her descend into insanity, but she wasn't letting him get her that easily. Oh no, she was looking right through him. A smile stretched out her lips and soon following was the dancing of her laughter. Moriarty couldn't win. Now where was her goddamn phone, she needed to make a call to the hairdresser's.