ハッカー

She can’t exactly tell this girl what she needs therapy for. No one wants to hear things like that, right? Sure, this girl looks like her, but she probably doesn’t share the same views on things. Hayley probably shouldn’t tell her. but that doesn’t stop her from saying it. She’s casual, even offering a shrug. ❝I need therapy because I’m not the best person. In what ways? I like to hurt people.❞Hurt people how? She doesn’t say. She simply lets her words hang in tense air, brows raised, almost like she’s expecting a storm of questions to roll in.

( yinkali )

The ticking of the clock gets really annoying after a while.

2 AM. Another sleepless night— although Sora couldn't really ever afford sleep, anyway. Not when she had work to do, let alone when she failed a task— and, boy, this time around, she fucked up real bad. 

Sometimes it's not really a big deal, because you've got clients who aren't anything special so you can just slither away, head still very much in order, and that's that, no harm done. 

...And then, there's those people who are going to slit your throat because you failed to retrieve the needed info or failed to complete the task. Which was reasonable, really, in this line of work... that is, Sora considered it reasonable until she got the short end of stick. Maybe this time she bit off more than she could chew. No, not maybe— most definitely. If she was the only one mixed up in this whole thing, then worming her way out of it might have been easier... She'd bat her eyelashes, act coy, apologize and that'd be that. ...But no, she just had to be involved with him. 

3 AM. What was the point of staying in bed? All she did was beat herself up over the miserable job she'd done— or, rather, she didn't do at all. Because she failed. Failure. Failure. Failure. The word kept flashing behind her eyelids, like a huge neon sign. Not even an ice cold shower helped her shake off the looming (and very irritating) feeling of impending disaster. 

4 AM. The streets were dead. Funny, really, because she felt as though that mirrored both her current appearance and state of mind at the moment. The clacking of her heels felt intrusive because everything was so fucking quiet. Too quiet. And she never really liked silence. It made her feel exposed, insecure. She wondered why and how some people found solace in silence. 

4:30 AM. The building towered over her, it felt menacing and sinister and she suddenly felt like she shouldn't be here. As she approached the door, she threw anxious glances over her shoulder, as if hoping someone might come and save her. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. Don't do it. But  as she tried to open the door, it just doesn't budge. Right. Can't go in alone.

A sigh. She turned around— and she immediately regretted coming here in the first place. The silhouette standing in front of her was just barely illuminated by the street light but she could still see his features clearly. If looks could kill, she'd be dead ten times over. 

She was brave enough to open her mouth and speak. But she didn't really feel brave, she just felt stupid. Stupid and scared. 

❝You could go to all of my therapy appointments for me so I appear relatively normal or something. You don’t have any mental illnesses, right? Personality disorders, psychopathy? You’re clean?❞ Hayley questions her twin, actually thinking the idea over once, twice, or  five times. It would be a good way to get her therapist off of her back, and no one would suspect a thing. ❝You could come in handy if you’re normal…❞