i shot an angel

ᴡʜʏ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ᴛʀᴀɢᴇᴅʏ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ? ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʀᴀɢᴇ. ᴡʜʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʀᴀɢᴇ? ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ɢʀɪᴇꜰ.

𝕿𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐒𝐎  𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇  𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 ﹔  𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐈𝐓  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒.  She  was  standing  too  still,  steeped  fully  in  racing adrenaline.  Her  shoulders  drawn  tight  and  rigid,  holding  herself  together  by  the  sheer  force  of  will,  alone.  When  the  lights  flicker  and  blossom  into  fruition,  she  attempts  to  not  flinch,  and  fails  at  the  task,  quite  so.  It’s  not  Ronin  that  she’s  flinching  from.  But  rather,  from  seeing  herself  reflected  back  in  the  bright  illumination.  Her  hands  curl  into  claws,  slowly,  and  then  unfurl,  evenly  paced  and  measured.  She’d  only  then  just  register  what  they’re  covered  in.  Once  the  shock  began  to  wear  off,  she  pieced  together  the  remnants  of  her  night. 

❛❛ It’s  not  mine,  Ro. ❜❜  She  says  with  a  sterile  finality,  her  mind  separated  leagues  from  her  voice,  which  was  only  a  hairsbreadth  above  a  whisper.  The  voice  was  steady  but  frayed  around  the  edges.  She  takes  a  breath  that  she  doesn’t  really  need  to  take,  and  her  silver  eyes  droop  briefly  to  the  ruined  fabric  of  her  dress  before  lifting  to  him. 

The  crucifix  around  her  throat,  absolutely  wearable  to  her  kind,  was  damn  near  incongruous  with  the  display  in  the  middle  of  Ronin’s  kitchen,  and  his  tea  long  forgotten.  There’s  something  hollow  there;  no  fear  and  no  guilt,  but  a  sharp,  quiet  grief  that  she  was  uncertain  whether  she  should  be  hiding  or  not.  ❛❛ I’m  not  hurt,  just  caught  in  the  aftermath. ❜❜  Her  voice  comes  to,  reasoning  finally  intact,  her  senses  restored  with  full  animation. 

She  moves  at  last,  setting  her  bloodied  hands  on  the  edge  of  the  counter,  using  it  as  an  anchor  to  a  vestige  of  sanity,  gaze  unfocused  for  the  moment.  ❛❛ There  was  nothing  I  could  do,  you  know ?  Normally  I  wouldn’t  bother  getting  involved  in  human  affairs,  at  least  not  with  those  I  don’t  know.  I  taught  myself  long  ago  that  most  were  for  feeding  purposes,  or  for  business  matters  at  best.  Happy  little  worker  bees,  right ?  But  this  was…   a  helpless child.  And  I  do  have  a  code,  believe  it  or  not. ❜❜ 

She  pauses,  and  slowly  lifts  her  chin,  and  her  eyes  lock  on  his.  ❛❛ That’s  what’s  bothering  me.  This  child…  did  nothing.  And  now  he  is  nothing,  and  it  was  senseless. ❜❜  Her  long  fingers  tremble  once  before  she  stills  them.  ❛❛ I  need  a  place  to  clean  up, ❜❜  she  continues.  ❛❛ And  a  minute  to  adjust. ❜❜  Slowly  moving  down  the  hall,  her  boots  clicking  to  pace,  but  not  before  the  trailing  of  her  thoughts  bloomed  to  combat  the  resolute  stillness.  ❛❛ I  do  hope  I  didn’t  ruin  your  tea.  I’ll  be  back. ❜❜ 

she didn't know what the fuck she was doing. she went one direction,straight to ronin's place after what she had just done. she wasn't quite yet ready to tell him the details,accepting his sister's clothes gladly,quietly stepping into the bathroom and took the hottest shower she could.

after that,she stepped out,fully dry and not covered in blood. she felt relieved. she didn't know where else to go but she knew she had to go somewhere and fast before she'd get caught. she sighed,glancing up at him,now ready to talk.

❝ i-i couldn't stop myself. he kept pushing me and wouldn't stop. i killed him,ronin. i fucking killed him without thinking twice about it. ❞she didn't name any name's just yet. but she figured he could guess. the jocks at school were awful. constantly knocking her into lockers and getting in her face,calling her a bunch of names. all based off one rumor the big hancho jock started about her.

❝ i left him there. i tried putting branches on him to conceal him. i'm hoping some wild animal will have a go at him before anybody notices. ❞she's heartless,cold and calculated. she knew what she did was wrong but didn't feel anything. no remorse. as far as she was concerned he'd deserved it.

ronin was quick to look over her face and arms when she stepped out, but there didn't appear to be any cuts or bruises. nothing to say she'd been the one bleeding. and then she rushed out her words. about whoever she'd killed. and honestly, he was relieved. any other guy probably wouldn't have been but hell, he wasn't any other guy. no, he was a serial killer that worked hard to keep anything from leading back to him. but he knew, at least he assumed, she wouldn't know how to do that. so he pulls her face up to look at his with his hands.

“you're  gonna  need  stitches,”  there  is  concern  in  reggie's  voice,  “maybe  only  two  or  three.”  no  matter  how  much  she  prodded  the  cut,  blood  saturated  through.  “here,”  it's  a  bottle  of  honey  whiskey,  she  doesn't  serve  it  in  a  glass,  she  lets  him  grab  hold  of  the  neck.  he  can  drink  straight  if  he  likes,  at  his  joke,  a  gentle  smile  does  surmise,  but  then  she  frowns  at  him  again,  her  brows  furrowing  together,  like  she'd  been  caught  and  had  to  double  down  now  that  he  noticed. 

“what  happened  to  you,  ronin?”  her  voice  is  quiet,  she  can't  see  his  eyes,  he  can't  see  hers.  “who  did  this  to  you?”  he's  lying  on  his  stomach  so  he  can't  see  how  her  hands  shake  when  she  finds  needle  and  thread  -  she  knew  how  to  sew  fabric  together,  she  could  fix  a  shirt  or  add  a  patch  to  jeans,  but  she'd  never  used  her  kit  on  skin  before.  any  time  reggie  got  a  wound,  she  just  let  herself  bleed.  drip,  drip,  drip,  into  porcelain  sink,  running  the  faucet  over  the  cut  until  the  stinging  numbed  and  the  water  ran  clear. 

ronin lifts his head long enough to gulp down a good one third of the honey whiskey. it was actually pretty palatable. it warmed your throat, but the sweetness cut the edge just a bit. he does notice for a moment how she frowns at him. almost like she's a worried mother. only, his real mother would have never seen him in this state. he'd done his best to keep his extracurricular activities hidden from his parents. and that had made it easy. they were hardly ever home. plenty of space and privacy to do just about anything he could imagine. too bad his imagination had suggested murder. he laid his head down, face pointing away from her as he steadied himself for the stitches.

" jackass frat boy. the usual suspect. " the less he tells her, the better. she doesn't need to be added into his bullshit. and sometimes he curses himself for making the few friends he has in college. high school had been easy to pretend he liked people. make them think they were friends. it was just for looks honestly. he hadn't cared a bit about a single person in high school, but he needed character witnesses. people to back him up if anyone ever suspected anything. college however, well, he liked some of these people. two or three. they weren't so small minded, and they could hold a conversation that wasn't about who they'd fucked that week or how many touch downs the football team got last night.