• Ziva's Journal June 2ed.

    I have no idea what has possessed me to write this, I just feel like I want to leave something behind I guess. Or maybe the loneliness is finally getting to me. Whatever reason, maybe it will get rid of this growing discontent inside of me.

    I don't remember much of the days before I became what I am, everything runs together and all that is left is the feeling of a not quite remembered dream, only feelings and non linear whips of memory.

    God, I'm waxing poetic.

    I remember I was 23 years old, and a college student....

    Ziva made a startled slash of ink across the composition notebook's paper as the double doors to the travelers hostel burst open with enough force that they hit the walls on either side of the entrance with a resounding clang.

    She heard some startled gasps as the few others in the hostel were suddenly wakened, as she quickly stuffed the notebook into the worse-for-wear green messenger's bag sitting on the floor near the cot the young woman herself was reclining on.

    Ziva watched, with a trickle of unease, as an obviously important military man strode purposely through the motley assortment of cots and small beds, not sparing a glace for any of the inhabitants, heading for the office of the 'landlord.' He didn't even bother knocking before going in a slamming the door closed.

    The young woman knew no good would come of this, something was telling her it get out, she followed her gut and hastily flung herself off the cot, scooped up the messenger bag, and was out the doors before it was over her shoulder.

    They closed silently, and Ziva blinked into the early morning sun. The sky was a pretty pink, but she didn't stop to admire the simple beauty before setting off. Ziva looked at her watch and silently cursed, she had to be on the next bus out of the town and the only bus running left in exactly 20 minutes.

    Ziva paid little attention to the interest she garnered from a few early rising mom-and-pop shop owners watching her hurry by. 'Why can't the bus depot be in a less obvious place?!' The small down town area she jogging through was the busiest place for miles.

    'I need to get back to the mid-west, it's too dangerous in the east...'


    Four months later...

    Ziva cautiously crept into the public showers of the travelers hostel, she slowly pushed open the swinging door, and peeked in. Blue eyes scanned an empty room. Ziva sighed in relief and hurried in.

    She stripped and put the clothes in her handy green bag, tossed the bag near the towel area and turned on one of the shower heads. The layout of the place left no privacy, so she wanted to be a brief as possible.

    Finally cleansed to an agreeable degree, the young woman wasted no time drying off and getting dressed in a pair of worn jeans and light blue camisole.

    Ziva slowly walked to the 'bathroom' side of the huge female rest area, rummaging in the green bag as she did so. She made a triumphant noise and pulled out a make-up compact, just as she reached a row of sinks. She dropped the bag and moved to look into the mirror.

    The young woman sighed and looked at her reflection. Think brown hair haphazardly cut short framed the pretty, but unremarkable, face of a young woman in her early 20's. Unremarkable except for two curious purple oval markings, just under each eye. She sighed again and flipped open the compact to begin the process of concealing the very obvious indicators of her affliction.