Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

@rxpperofhearts

Covered in blood. This wasn’t something that Salem was usually opposed to, but this time was different. This time it left an emptiness in her eyes, a stiffness in her step. She had ghosted to the attic, not knowing where else to turn. God knows she couldn’t go to her mother. Dropping the knife she’d used to butcher her brother, the sound of it clinking to the floor was her first clue of being present. Soon followed a hesitant, lost voice —- “D-dad…?” 

Pouring a glass of bourbon, Sawyer was about to sharpen one of his knives when he heard something clatter behind him. Confused--and a little annoyed that someone was able to sneak in behind him--the sociopath turned. Eyes traveling from the knife that was on the ground to the young ghost standing above it, Sawyer’s eyes narrowed in on the blood that covered her. 

Opening his mouth to say something about her entrance, Sawyer was caught off guard by the word that came from Salem’s lips. Eyebrows lifting, the ghost took a few steps closer to Samantha’s daughter--carefully pushing the knife away, just in case she got a little stab happy. Taking her by the shoulders, Sawyer lead her to his bed. “Tell me what happened.” 

No man could ever tame Harley. No one could ever own her, for she was her own and demanded to be so with a fiery passion. No man could ever pull her away from her path or lead her down a road she didn’t want to go down. No man —- a sudden voice reached the blonde and tore her from her thoughts, she’d been laying on her bed twirling a knife against her finger just to the point where it wouldn’t mutilate her. One man, maybe. But Sawyer didn’t count like that. Harley saw them as equals, and he could never make her do something she didn’t want to do. But how she did come running like a puppy. Ghosting to the hallway Sawyer was lingering in, knife still in hand and spinning in the same manner as before, the sociopath grinned and cocked her head. “You rang?” she sang back. 

The familiar tingle of someone ghosting around him, Sawyer allowed a lazy grin to spread across his face. If he was telling the truth, he had known from the start that Harley would show up. She always did. It was almost sad, but over the years he had grown comfortable with the thought that whenever he snapped his fingers--she’d come running. Eyes drifting to the knife that she had twisting around between her fingers, something feral came into his smile. 

The sudden presence of Sawyer had barely effected the poltergeist. She flickered in and out of sight, though remained in her spot by the window. There were times, much like this, where she lost all of her humanity. She did not perceive herself as anything but a dead girl, something beyond human, but lacking that solid ground the living seemed to possess. She was not human. She was what they were afraid of, unsure of. Samantha was that unknown fear most everyone had in the back of their minds, she was the answer to an ageless question.

There was a long —- if not uncomfortably long —- moment before the girl turned stiffly to look in Sawyer’s direction. Gray eyes like static meeting his without emotion. And as another moment passed, the window continued to crack, breaking the silences she left in between.

An uneasy feeling slithered down Sawyer’s back. The sociopath had never experienced fear as the people he murdered had. Of course, up until the curse Ria had put on him, he had always enjoyed the sweet smell that his victims would give off during their final moments. 

Is that what she is doing in this exact moment? 

It wasn’t the fear of death that had caused his unease. Sawyer had experienced reoccurring deaths plenty of times before it was the question of what set her off. Especially when he had made it so clear it was him. 

Taking a cautious step forward, Sawyer scanned Samantha closely. Eyeing the window as it continued to crack, he was ready to ghost away in case it shattered. 

( @rxpperofhearts )

Civilization didn’t interest Sam much. Holding down a building or dealing with other survivors was never on her list of things she enjoyed either, and so the petite brunette kept to the woods mostly. Lounging up in a tree with her newly found bag of supplies, she dug through what she thought would be worth keeping. She’d picked it from a camp not too far away as that group let their guard down, though it seemed as though she’d picked a nearly worthless bag. Some fresh apples, a half drunken bottle of water, a chipped pocket knife. A thin blanket. Some food wrappers. Nothing to get too excited about. Dropping the wrappers to the ground, her senses were alerted as she heard rustling down below, a few yards off, and from there she ducked down and peaked out to see what was causing the noise. Eyes narrowed as she caught sight of a decent sized group of walkers making their way from the direction of the camp she’d just visited, and by the looks of it, they’d just recently fed.

It wasn’t unusual for Sawyer to find himself out in the woods these days--especially alone. The group he had stitched together with only the worthiest of survivors were fun in their own right; however, he grew bored quite a bit with the tedious nature that came with a leader. Usually when he got like this, it meant that the sociopath would throw one of his minions in with the number of walkers he had in his possession--often ending with his minions demise. This time he figured it would be best if he kept the people he surrounded himself with, if only for a little bit longer. 

                                       Survival Mode: Task 005

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