“I think it is too late.” { HELLO THERE! 8') }
body tenses, lips sneer, and mind, well her mind PREPARES, and thoughts fire off one by one, as though they were coming from her own BLASTER and though eyes are said to be the windows of the souls, hers are GLASSED over, and god, she can’t even REMEMBER the last time she let herself FEEL something, something that was G O O D, something that was worth it. something that wasn’t PAINFUL, wasn’t something that would FUEL her skills. she can’t remember the last time she felt good ENOUGH, and her ribs feel as though they are going to crack, SPLINTER down into pieces, grind to DUST under the weight of her heart, as she breathes DEEPLY, feeling as though each breath she takes makes her lungs SMALLER. because how could she be so stupid?
HOW COULD SHE LET HERSELF THINK SHE COULD BE WORTH IT?
for she is a bounty hunter, she is EVIL, unsalvageable. she is meant to be as cold as SNOW, she is not meant to let people close, so WHY has she? why has she thought this man could SAVE her? they called him the negotiator, but to her, he seemed FAR from it. she wanted to be good, she wanted to do something RIGHT, but this, this was the FINAL straw. it was too late, he was RIGHT. it was too late for her, too late to be someone that she could be PROUD of. someone that was RESPECTED, but not feared, someone people actually wanted to spend TIME with, instead of fearing that she would simply get RID of them if they didn’t. she wanted to make younglings smile, she didn’t want to SCARE anymore.
but how do you STOP scaring when it’s the only thing you can do? how do you stop FIGHTING when it’s the only thing you’re good at? she was told that it was the DEVIL that held her down, but maybe it was HERSELF. she had been trained to be a WEAPON since she could fight, and now, now she was a MONSTER. she made herself act like she was a GOD, but she was nothing more than a mere MORTAL. she was weak. she tried her hardest to pretend she was a queen, but in reality, she was broken down by her OWN actions like a pestel and mortar.
so many bounty hunters BRAGGED about their ledgers dripping red, but hers, hers was GUSHING, it was spilling and FLOODING, it stained everything she TOUCHED, and some days it felt as though it stained her very SKIN, as though it was FILLING her lungs and she was drowning in the BLOOD of every single person whose life she had cut short. because it was what she had believed was RIGHT, because she believed that it was a WRONG that she had to right. because that was what she had been RAISED to believe. that was NOTHING to brag about.
now, now it takes EVERYTHING she has to keep her hands steady when she thinks about it, now she cannot look at her own WEAPONS without feeling DISGUSTED with herself, now she wears her war paint out of SHAME, to show what she has become. she had thought she could trust him enough that she did not HAVE to wear it. she should not have been so FOOLISH.
how could she do this? how could she let her guard down? how could she believe that she was worth more than a life filled with murder, a timeline drowned in blood and tragedy?
shoulders roll back, FIRE crackles inside her mouth as she SPITS her words like SPARKS, because WORDS are something that can leave DEEPER scars than knives, words can change you, TWIST you into something you never thought you would become, and she knows exactly what to SAY, exactly how to get him to leave, because they ALL left, that was why she was better off ALONE. how do you cope with being alone? how do you LIVE when all you have are your own thoughts, when your body is not a body, but a weapon, made to DESTROY everything good you find?
❝ i understand, you’re just like the rest of them. i don’t know why i bothered. leave, jedi, i have no interest in your companionship anymore, unless you have an interest in your throat meeting with my knife. ❞
yousharknotpass
theartofmadeline
ellievsbear
vaporwave
stormborns
prguitarman
gracieabrams
