Post by Brytain Montgomery on Sept 27, 2013 1:22:43 GMT -5
OOC: This would have been posted hours ago but I've been sick all week and had an accidental five hour nap after I took my meds. :/ I'm sorry this isn't my usual quality but on top of my laptop freezing and neglecting to autosave half of it last night, being sick, my computer still being wonky so I had to type it on my phone etc... well... I'm kind of creatively tapped out LOL. Thanks so much to James for the extension and I'm sorry it's so late.
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I don't know how long I sat in the car, engine ticking slowly as it cooled, in front of the two story home. The ocean crashed softly to my left as I stared up at the house with a soft, almost affectionate smile on my face. The home seemed to radiate Brytain from it's large, sunny windows down to the large pink and purple flowers blooming beside the brick walkway. I could easily see why they'd chosen it. The woman who had become my legacy and the man who would give her the world just to see her smile.
A soft breeze rustled through the jacaranda trees as I tapped softly at the door. When Syn answered it, his face was drawn and pale. I could see now that he hadn't taken calling me lightly and that whatever I would find within would be bad. On the phone his voice had retained that eerie calmness that it always did but I'd heard the pain and worry in his voice when he told me he hadn't left the house in days for fear of coming back to her body in a bathtub, slowly growing cold.
"She's in her studio..." he told me when I'd raised my eyebrow questioningly. "She hasn't left it in days."
I gave him a stiff nod as I made my way slowly in the direction he'd pointed me in. As I pushed open the French doors leading to the spacious, light filled studio, I saw her. Her back was to me, knees drawn up to her chest and a gaunt look on her face that spoke of days without sleeping or caring for herself.
"You Know You're Right" by Nirvana played on repeat, the needle traveling the well worn grooves of the vinyl record.
After some time spent with Brytain, it wasn't hard to gauge her moods based off of whatever soundtrack she was blaring at the moment. "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails told me she was locked in a deep, dark self-loathing where she systematically catalogued all of her failings and regrets. If she were playing the Johnny Cash version, it was time to hide all of the sharp objects.
This particular Nirvana song was only a half step up from the Cash version of "Hurt". It told me that Syn had been right in calling me when he did. It told me that she was reckless, trapped in the darkness of her own thoughts and that she'd given up trying to claw her way back out.
I sighed softly but she didn't hear me over Kurt Cobain's wailing refrain of "paaaaaainnnnnn".
I knew what she’d gone through. I had seen the tweets the night that Smith Jones had left with her in the trunk of his car and I’d seen the video that he’d posted, her body being broken and destroyed for everyone to see. He’d wanted to degrade her, disillusion her and he’d succeeded. Hopefully, he would never know just what kind of damage he’d done to her psyche.
“Should I hand you the rope already fashioned into a noose or would you prefer to do the honors yourself?” I sniped, coldly. This broken, defeated woman was not the legacy that I had created. The thing that I had sent out into the world to finish what I had started so many years before her.
She looked up then, her eyes rimmed red and heavy from lack of sleep. I could see the ridges of her cheekbones and I knew that she hadn’t eaten, either. The only thing that gave me hope was that her eyes weren’t clouded over from whatever substance she may have chosen to ease the pain this time.
“The fuck?” she muttered, her expression never changing from that same, empty, hollow look I hadn’t seen on her face before. Not like this. Not ever.
“Or would razorblades be more your style?” I demanded, arching an eyebrow at her as I put a hand on my hip. “Bloody in the bathtub as your fiance fears he may find you should he leave the house.”
I stared down into her unblinking, hollow eyes and scowled. There was only going to be one way to do this… the hard way. In one quick movement, I jammed my elbow into her face. She fell back, stumbled to her feet and I hit her with another stiff elbow.
This time, she crumpled and stayed that way.
Lifting her over my shoulders and carrying her out to the car, I dropped her in the backseat and got behind the wheel again.
Sighing, I realized that I had a lot of work to do and very little time to do it in.
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I don't know how long I sat in the car, engine ticking slowly as it cooled, in front of the two story home. The ocean crashed softly to my left as I stared up at the house with a soft, almost affectionate smile on my face. The home seemed to radiate Brytain from it's large, sunny windows down to the large pink and purple flowers blooming beside the brick walkway. I could easily see why they'd chosen it. The woman who had become my legacy and the man who would give her the world just to see her smile.
A soft breeze rustled through the jacaranda trees as I tapped softly at the door. When Syn answered it, his face was drawn and pale. I could see now that he hadn't taken calling me lightly and that whatever I would find within would be bad. On the phone his voice had retained that eerie calmness that it always did but I'd heard the pain and worry in his voice when he told me he hadn't left the house in days for fear of coming back to her body in a bathtub, slowly growing cold.
"She's in her studio..." he told me when I'd raised my eyebrow questioningly. "She hasn't left it in days."
I gave him a stiff nod as I made my way slowly in the direction he'd pointed me in. As I pushed open the French doors leading to the spacious, light filled studio, I saw her. Her back was to me, knees drawn up to her chest and a gaunt look on her face that spoke of days without sleeping or caring for herself.
"You Know You're Right" by Nirvana played on repeat, the needle traveling the well worn grooves of the vinyl record.
After some time spent with Brytain, it wasn't hard to gauge her moods based off of whatever soundtrack she was blaring at the moment. "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails told me she was locked in a deep, dark self-loathing where she systematically catalogued all of her failings and regrets. If she were playing the Johnny Cash version, it was time to hide all of the sharp objects.
This particular Nirvana song was only a half step up from the Cash version of "Hurt". It told me that Syn had been right in calling me when he did. It told me that she was reckless, trapped in the darkness of her own thoughts and that she'd given up trying to claw her way back out.
I sighed softly but she didn't hear me over Kurt Cobain's wailing refrain of "paaaaaainnnnnn".
I knew what she’d gone through. I had seen the tweets the night that Smith Jones had left with her in the trunk of his car and I’d seen the video that he’d posted, her body being broken and destroyed for everyone to see. He’d wanted to degrade her, disillusion her and he’d succeeded. Hopefully, he would never know just what kind of damage he’d done to her psyche.
“Should I hand you the rope already fashioned into a noose or would you prefer to do the honors yourself?” I sniped, coldly. This broken, defeated woman was not the legacy that I had created. The thing that I had sent out into the world to finish what I had started so many years before her.
She looked up then, her eyes rimmed red and heavy from lack of sleep. I could see the ridges of her cheekbones and I knew that she hadn’t eaten, either. The only thing that gave me hope was that her eyes weren’t clouded over from whatever substance she may have chosen to ease the pain this time.
“The fuck?” she muttered, her expression never changing from that same, empty, hollow look I hadn’t seen on her face before. Not like this. Not ever.
“Or would razorblades be more your style?” I demanded, arching an eyebrow at her as I put a hand on my hip. “Bloody in the bathtub as your fiance fears he may find you should he leave the house.”
I stared down into her unblinking, hollow eyes and scowled. There was only going to be one way to do this… the hard way. In one quick movement, I jammed my elbow into her face. She fell back, stumbled to her feet and I hit her with another stiff elbow.
This time, she crumpled and stayed that way.
Lifting her over my shoulders and carrying her out to the car, I dropped her in the backseat and got behind the wheel again.
Sighing, I realized that I had a lot of work to do and very little time to do it in.