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cecily test <373.96.164.127Posted On April 14, 2017 at 8:32 PM by sharpie

i know you're looking for salvation in the secular age, but girl i'm not your savior
”Welcome.” Well, obviously he didn’t plan to kill her. She’s not sure if she’s relieved or disappointed by the realization, though she knows what she should be. Her blue eyes rove over him, a more thorough inspection this time now that she’s got time to really assess the situation - him being the situation, of course. She’s a bit slow in her movements thanks to the lingering effects of whiskey, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that the man standing before her is dangerous.

The axe he carries is proof enough of that.

She’s caught up in observing him when he speaks again, his voice just as gruff as the first word he uttered, though she’d expect nothing left from a man of his sort. ”What torments me?” The words right out on a bark of harsh laughter as an almost maniacal expression wipes away her placid demeanor. It isn’t his fault, not really. He’s got his own problems - voices? She can imagine the affliction because it is so similar to her own. Not quite the same, though.

As if the flood of memories that assault her aren’t enough, the ghost boy still bounces that fucking ball, as if his only goal in life were to drive her to the brink of madness.

”The boy behind you. The woman on the street corner with a broken skull last week. Hushed whispers in a back alley right before the cold hits. A broken little girl that just wanted to get her toy from the street.” The words fade out and she looks away from him, twisting sideways to see around him to the child who’s suddenly turned his attention to her.

Not ignoring me now? She glowers at him, collapses back into the bench and closes her eyes. ”Who knew ghosts could be such a fucking nuisance? Dead people. Don’t they have anything better to do than bother me?”

No, of course not. Most of them wanted something from her, would even exchange information for it. Some of them were too gone to help, but wanted to be heard. Unfortunately for them, they picked the wrong girl to ask.

She wants another cigarette, another drink - something to dull the memories and the sound of the boy playing. Something to take the edge off. Instead, she’s got this hulk of a man, so she might as well make the best of it. ”Got a name, beefcake? I’m Cecily.”

wrestle to the ground, god help me now



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