Britt: Classes are kicking some ass right now. I know Paula is working on her next chapter, and that Krissy got bogged down with a massive group project in her analytics class. Corbin is in a writers rut with his project, and Jake is off watching JJR in mass quantities for something he's planning. I guess that leaves me free and clear to post something up.
Hopefully you won't hate this.
Clack
She turned to me, saying that she loved me. I stood silently, my heart beating, face to face with the wild-eyed monster. The tear stricken face of a woman that I could not mend, tattered bits of broken promises laying before us. It was a threshold, one that fate decided all because of a gun.
Tap, tap, tap, tap,
the resounding sound like a drum.
Breath, breath, breath, breath,
air was not enough.
What could I say to this fleeting moment of animosity? Hate had become more, had somehow softened the person before me, and had gentled those killer-like eyes that gazed at me with heat. Longing turned desire, rage melted into sorrow. She loved me...she, a woman without a concept of the feeling, she spat the word from her mouth. Like a drug addict in need of a fix, she shook, unsure of herself, positive that killing me would solve the entire problem of hers. She would not win this, not by my death, nor by my life. She would never understand her own mind, and the twisted place it had become, harboring the fugitive child's soul and murderous adult's rage.
Clink, clink, clink, clink,
steps I could not stop.
Put it down, put it down, put it down, put it down,
my murmurs echoed soft.
Reaching for me, her fingers gripped my neck, pulling memories away from blood covered remnants of a time I'd not soon forget. I dreamed of it, toiled in the day, and agonized, fretted while losing sleep and sanity. There she was beyond the shadow, fear lacing her eyes, her words warm to my chilled body and completely frozen soul. I knew what she said, the words upon her lips vexed, confused, and poisonous to the core.
Clack, clack, clack, clack,
the chamber was empty.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,
her curses like prayers once more.
It was not the first time her rage clashed with desire. I was no more a saint than the she-devil before me, caked equally in the bloodshed left behind from that raw, embittered fury, a child raised into madness. The hells of this world a battleground unlike any other, and I, I was nothing more than a ghost. This was a war I'd fought before, laying to rest the demons among the seas of blood drained by my command.
Tut, tut, tut, tut,
I put out my cigar.
Sob, sob, sob, sob,
I could not settle her unrest.
Just like many nights before, I refused her the comfort of words. Instead I put her in my bed, and held her in my arms. It was the nearest and furthest thing we'd ever see to victory. Two war torn women, hardened by crime, there was nothing to gain.
No, not by this, but a stalemate was no loss.