01-08-2021, 03:02 AM
He doesn’t answer her right away, but he touches her again, and she can’t help but wonder if he has figured out that is the secret to her. That his touch – his illusion of kindness – is what she clings to. That she will replay it in her head more than she replays the violence. It was something carved into her, something so fully embedded into the very marrow of her that she bleeds it back out every time she is cut; the driving force that tells her to seek the smallest reward and forget the punishments.
She will remember the way his lips feel across her neck and not the way his teeth feel tearing her apart, and that is how she survives this twisted world she has entangled herself in.
He transports them, then, and she can’t see it, but she can feel where he takes her back to.
The same coolness to the air, the barest hint of what could be seawater, though she could be imagining it. The way his voice seems to shiver across the walls, and though she thinks she hears something else, sounds that had not been here last time, she does not ask.
“You did,” she answers him with atypical calmness for such a subject, but he has now killed her twice, and the drowning and the aftermath was not nearly as violent as what took place on the mountain. The drowning had been an odd kind of thrill, a slow build that culminated with the illusion of the valley – another memory that she keeps locked away to remind herself that it isn’t always all bad.
When he says that it won’t happen until he can trust Gail not to keep her as she did before, her face flickers with bemusement, but she (stupidly) believes him. “I won’t give you a reason to want to do it,” she promises – though she breaks her own promises frequently, no matter how well-intended they were.
Like the promise she had made Atrox to be better, and yet, here she is.
“You would show me?” she asks with a small smile, and maybe in a way that was a touch too eager for a lamb about to be led into the wolf’s den. The very mention of the last time they were here is enough to quicken her pulse, and she touches her nose to his shoulder again as she shifts closer to him, still and patient.
She will remember the way his lips feel across her neck and not the way his teeth feel tearing her apart, and that is how she survives this twisted world she has entangled herself in.
He transports them, then, and she can’t see it, but she can feel where he takes her back to.
The same coolness to the air, the barest hint of what could be seawater, though she could be imagining it. The way his voice seems to shiver across the walls, and though she thinks she hears something else, sounds that had not been here last time, she does not ask.
“You did,” she answers him with atypical calmness for such a subject, but he has now killed her twice, and the drowning and the aftermath was not nearly as violent as what took place on the mountain. The drowning had been an odd kind of thrill, a slow build that culminated with the illusion of the valley – another memory that she keeps locked away to remind herself that it isn’t always all bad.
When he says that it won’t happen until he can trust Gail not to keep her as she did before, her face flickers with bemusement, but she (stupidly) believes him. “I won’t give you a reason to want to do it,” she promises – though she breaks her own promises frequently, no matter how well-intended they were.
Like the promise she had made Atrox to be better, and yet, here she is.
“You would show me?” she asks with a small smile, and maybe in a way that was a touch too eager for a lamb about to be led into the wolf’s den. The very mention of the last time they were here is enough to quicken her pulse, and she touches her nose to his shoulder again as she shifts closer to him, still and patient.
R y A t A h
and you can aim for my heart, go for blood
but you would still miss me in your bones
but you would still miss me in your bones
@[Carnage]