Machine Gun Blues
a collaboration between edwardandbella4evah and strayphoenix
Ariel's Note: Heeey guys. Brand spanking new fanfiction here. But I'm afraid this isn't my baby, but Stray's. I'm just it's adoptive mother, WHO LOVES IT LIKE HER OWN. Short prologue is short, but don't fret my pretties. We have about 11 chapters already written up haha. SO NO YEAR LONG HIATUSES ANYTIME SOON. I would like to take time to thank Stray for being amazeballs and for giving ya'all this fantabulous idea. It's all her fault, pt. 2. I hope you all enjoy!
Stray's Note: Ariel is far too kind. I wouldn't have ever gotten up off my ass to write this fic, which I've had an outline of sitting on my computer for the last three years, if she hadn't agreed to help me write it. I wouldn't have gotten the idea if it wasn't for the wonderful art of the wonderfully talented Keytaro and TDI-Exile on deviantart, so thanks to them too! This story is going to be a hell of a ride and it's been a hell of a long time in the making, so I hope you all have as much fun reading it as we have writing it. Happy reading!
You've read the story of Jesse James
Of how he lived and died;
If you're still in need
Of something to read,
Here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.
-Bonnie Parker
The mass of bodies outside the institution is so massive, she needs the muscle from the hospital to make her way to the door. The reporters clamor around her car, the walkway to the entrance. They all want a statement, they all want to know who she is and what she's doing. She keeps her mouth shut like her husband told her to and lets the doctors and nurses escort her to the front desk.
They shut the front door on a reporter's outstretched pencil and notepad.
The woman takes off her hat, a wide brimmed thing that defended her against the Texas sun, and says to the front desk, "I'm here to pick up my sister."
"I wouldn't have guessed," the secretary behind the counter says. "Follow Noah down the hall. He'll take you to her."
The orderly named Noah appears, gestures that she follow him.
"I sure hope you have a safe way of getting yourself and your sister out of here," he says.
"Let's make sure she's ready to leave first," the woman says. Noah doesn't reply and instead leads her down the hall, past many doors and empty rooms. She welcomes the eerie silence.
Noah opens a door at the far end of the hallway, facing away from the windows.
"You have a visitor," Noah says into the room, his voice robotic. "See to it that you're on your best behavior." The door clicks behind the two women and they're alone, but the woman in the chair isn't the same girl her sister grew up with.
Bridgette sighs, looking at her sister. Her hair has been cut short, sticking up in many directions. One of the downsides to being locked up in a mental home was their lack of professional hair stylists. Her face is devoid of any color as well and, much more alarming, any emotion. Her sister's lost weight, and she notes that the first thing she'll do upon taking her back home is make her a good meal.
"Sweetie, it's time to go home now," she says slowly, as if talking to a baby rabbit instead of an adult woman. "Mama is waiting for us. She would have come herself, but.." she sighs and trails off.
Her sister doesn't answer. The clamour outside grows louder through the walls themselves.
"Dearest," she says softly, taking her sister's hand. "I know what's written in the papers can't be true. They have their own way of twisting the truth around. Tell me the truth. If you want me to believe you, I need you to tell me what happened"
Still her sister doesn't answer. She squeezes.
"Bonnie? Sweetie?"
No response.
"...Courtney?"
The patient turns to her sister, stiff from months without sunlight. She looks her sister in the eyes, her own betraying nothing, opens her mouth to say something…
Then changes her mind. She turns back to the wall, closing her lips tight.
Outside, someone smashes a bottle against the wall of the asylum.