𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌　𝗍𝗁𝖾　𝗿𝗼𝘁,

“      𝗂   𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍   𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄   𝗌𝗈.      ”         nose   crinkled      +      grin   etching   far   into   half   -   lidded   hues,   their   head   rests   against   his   thigh         ;         wouldn’t   be   a      stretch      to   say   that   it’s   become   a   favourite   spot,   sprawled   across   his   lap      +      gangly   legs   hooked   over   sofa’s   armrest.         “      i   reckon   he’d   be,   like,   thrilled   about   it,   though.   the      novelty,      i   mean.      ”

𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗄𝗒   𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄   𝖺𝗍   𝗍𝗁𝖾   𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒   𝗍𝗂𝗉   𝗈𝖿   𝗁𝗂𝗌   𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾,      the   colour   of   premature   besottal         —         his   gaze   has   been   focused,   almost   solely,   on   her   frame   from   the   moment   he      collapsed      in   bean   bag         /         when   prompted,   his   smile   turns   something   impossibly   eager.         “      so,   so   good         —         like,   seriously.   incredible.      ”

𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽,   𝗇𝗈𝗍   𝖺   𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖾   𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌   𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇   𝗁𝖾   𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌      down         ;         genuine   spark   of   surprise   that   she’s   not   tapping   a   patent   -   leather   toe   at   him.         “      your   face’ll   get      stuck      like   that   if   you’re   not   careful.      ”         gnashing   teeth   will   only   get   her   so   far,      +      he’s   weathered   far   worse.

𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗄   𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐   𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌,   𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾      +      painstakingly   judgmental.   for   all   the   posturing   in   the   world,   he’s   easy   to   read         /         thoughts,   now,   are   splashed   in   the   curl   of   a   lower   lip,   the   vicious   divertment   that   twinges   at   his   features.      fuckin’   wanker.         “      sounds   like   a      you      problem,   princess.      ”

𝗂𝗍'𝗌   𝖺𝗇   𝗈𝗅𝖽   𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇,   𝖻𝗎𝗍   𝗂𝗍   𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌   𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁   𝖺   𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽   -   𝗇𝖾𝗐   𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖻:      he   can   still   taste   it,   soured   lukewarm   coffee   coating   the   backs   of   his   teeth.   hadn’t   seen   anything   quite   as   brutal   until   caroline   jenkins,   matted   blonde      +      claret   awash,   innermost   viscera   on   gruesome   display.      (      first   gag   had   took   him   by   surprise         —         ducked   far   away   before   it      really      set   in,   before   he’d   doubled   over      +      pitiful   contents   of   his   stomach   had   decorated   a   sparse   flowerbed.      )      miserable,   unfurling   scene   is   a   haunting   double   feature   to   that   of   a   decade   ago,   with   an   added   complication.   the   nausea   that   roils,   uneasy,   is      less      about   the   scene   now,      +      far   more   for   the   bleak   distress   that   has   devoured   penelope   entirely.         “      honey,   i   know   you   want   to   be   with   her.   i’m   so,   so   sorry.      ”         her   tears   yank   at      fraught   heartstrings         —         selfish,   awful   thought:   at   least   eloise   will   never   lose   a   sibling,   won’t   feel   herself   fracture   into   two   like   this.         “      like   i   said,   i’ll   get   you   a   coffee.   just         …         come   with   me,   please.   away   from   all   of   this.      ”

𝗂𝗍'𝗌   𝖺𝗅𝗅   𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒   𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍      +      𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇   𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗉𝗌,      the   press   of   incautious   fingertips   against   skin   that   sears         ;         alchemy,   the   way   they   draw   together.      (      do   all   lovers   feel   like   they’re   inventing   something      ?      )      holy   communion   is   first   discovered   in   the   hollow   juncture   between   sacred   collarbone      +      profane   drag   of   bitten   mouth,   garlands   of   dark,   flowering   marks         —   -      some   kind   of   cosmic   joke,   that      preacher’s   daughter      coaxes   some   kind   of   understanding   of   religion   from   the   godless.         “      pretty   when   you   say   my   name.      ”         lowly   purr,   he’ll   wind   strands   of   inky   black   around   his   fingers,   tug   at   it      softly      enough   to   provide   access   to   the   column   of   her   throat.   kiss   dropped   to   that   delicate   space   at   the   very   base      —   -         “      pretty   when   you   sleep   in      my      bed.   prettiest   when   you’re   all   over   me,   though.      ”

𝗌𝗁𝖾   𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍   𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍   𝗂𝗍,   𝗁𝗈𝗐   𝖼𝗒𝖺𝗇   𝗁𝖺𝗌   𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽      her   bobbing   head.      (      unconscious   study   made,   she’s   found   herself   adapting   to   the   coy   cut   of   her   smile      /      pitter   -   patter   of   her   pulse   trips   over   itself   when   she’s   painted   in   sunset   watercolour,      +      it   feels   like   being   doomed   all   over   again.   like   a   sugar   rush   in   your   back   molars,   a   maddening   vibration   that      starts      +      ends      with   sweetness   melting   all   over   your   tongue.      )      her   smile   grows,   stretches   well   into   widened   eyes   when   assent   comes      +      she   sits.         “      thank   you.   do   you   want   a   sip      ?      it’s   a   bit   sweet,   but         —      ”         cora   nudges   her   mug   forward,      +      she’ll   say   it’s      unconscious      when   the   rim   that   glimmers   with   the   faded   print   of   lip   balm   ends   up   facing   the   other.      (      for   what   it’s   worth,   it   mostly   is.      divine   thrill   is   all   hers.         )         “      i   bet   you’ve   had   a   day   as   long   as   i   have.         —         oh,   i’m   alright.   just         …         big   day.   grim,   really.   you’d   think   it’d   wear   off,   but   it   never   does.      ”         monologue   punctuated   by   self   -   aggravandizing   shake   of   her   head,   something      rueful      playing   at   the   corners   of   countenance.         “      don’t   mind   me   being   morbid.   how’s   your   day   been      ?      ”

𝗂𝗍'𝗌   𝖺   𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅   𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾,   𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌   𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽   𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽         ;         she’s   learnt   it   well.         “      take   a   look.      ”         spine   twists,   an   elegant   side   -   step   to   clear   the   bonnet   of   her   car.         “      it   needs   a      bit      of   attention,   don’t   you   think      ?      ”         mascara   is   a   sooty   smudge,   lower   petal   catches   on   one   sharp   canine.      lesson   one,   in   shameless   seduction.

something　still　nocturnal　resides　within,　whether　or　not　it's　the　station　as　a　body　or　andie's　seclusion.　inhabits　four　walls　(　a　ticking　clock　where　time　doesn't　change　),　hours　pass　through　to　the　second　where　she　doesn't　know　when　dusk　turned　to　dawn.　it　flattens　against　building,　suffocates　it,　while　andie　lives　inside.　　note:　would　claw　her　way　out,　if　she　was　able.　　“　──　mornin',　sleep　well?　”　　hoarse,　rasp　against　jugular.　knows　she　didn't,　but　that's　besides　the　point.　hasn't　spoke　in　some　hours,　where　words　drip　as　if　they're　foreign.　makes　a　mental　note　to　look　forth,　smile　on　lips;　again,　newly　placed,　hands　finding　comfort　round　cup,　scent　filling　nostrils.　takes　one,　two,　then　three　sips,　narrow　of　eyes　in　other's　direction　before　head　shakes.　　“　unfortunately,　i　know　as　much　as　you　do,　cora.　”　　nickname　rolls　from　tip　of　tongue,　some　ease　to　informality,　　“　speakin'　of,　anything　come　from　your　end?　y'know　…　”　　ivories　find　residency　within　lesser　brim,　as　if　to　search　for　right　words.　hot　topic　of　conversation　throughout　whole　town,　but　she　still　finds　it　hard.　　“　──　medically,　i　guess.　”

𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾   𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽   𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅   𝗍𝗈   𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽.      secular   world,   begins      +      ends   in   sterile   white,   murmured   apologies   that   ring   uncomfortably   hollow   to   anyone      who   just   doesn’t   fuckin’   get   it.      only   so   many   scenes,   so   many   bodies,   that   you   can   cast   appraisingly,   funereally   critical   eye   over   before   flesh   becomes   flesh      +      a   wound   is   a   goddamned   wound         /         special   circumstances   exist,   of   course.      this   is   one.      “      not   particularly.      ”         what’s   the   point,   in   nectarous   pretense      ?      theirs   is   a   grim   universe.   manila   files      +      multitudes   of   unimaginable   horror,   nausea   has   stopped   settling   like   a   stone   into   the   base   of   her   belly   when   faced   with   mangled   flesh.      would   it   make   a   difference,   if   it   did      ?      “      she   was,   uh.      a   mess,      medically   speaking.      what   i   can   say,   though         —      ”         +      she’ll   lean   forward,   almost   conspiratorial.      isn’t   it,   to   speculate      ?      “      it   wasn’t   the   asphyxia   that   killed   her.      ”      sips   at   coffee,   relishing   in   the   inferno   burn   down   the   line   of   her   throat.   easy   to   shut   up,   when   there’s   fire   scorching   all   the   way   down.

the amount she had heard her mom's voice fill the quiet of the house, nova launched herself off the couch in their living room and to the front door and immediately into evangeline, wrapping her arms around the older. " mom, " her tone was one of relief as she sought comfort from the adult. " where have you been ? "

𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍   𝗈𝖿   𝗁𝖾𝗋   𝗉𝖺𝗅𝗆   𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌   𝗍𝗁𝖾   𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗏𝖾   𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇   𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖺'𝗌   𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌,      reassuring   circles   traced         ;         forgive   her   if   she   clutches   her   daughter   a   little   closer.      (      clearly,   terror   hasn’t      just      weighed   heavily   on   her.      )         “      work   ran   late,   sweetheart,   i’m   sorry.   i   should’ve   called.      ”            kiss   stamped   to   the   crown   of   nova’s   head,   she’ll   pull   back   just   enough   to   tuck      stray   strand      behind   her   ear,   offer   softest   of   smiles.         “      i’m   home   now,   though,      +      i’m   not   going   anywhere.   in   fact,   i   was   thinking         …         how   does      pizza      +      a   movie   marathon   sound      ?      your   picks,   all   night.      ”