#@chase

J’adore les vieilles camionnettes <3

Please don’t freak out. 

Her text had been sent hours earlier after she had stepped from a shower that burned her skin, a strange memory of years earlier replaced with a new one, of a decaying body beneath her and a scent that was still trapped in her lungs. It hadn’t broken her. She wasn’t broken. Not like she had been then. Rather, this seemed like just another unfortunate twist in the tale and her skin had paled further, her arm out of it’s sling, now bendable and shallow marks under her eyes from lack of sleep. It had been surprisingly hard to sleep in the darkness of a coffin but she had tried. Everything had been blocked out mentally but physically she had wilted slightly, her hair glossy and clean now, her lips slightly chapped and a half eaten muffin laying on a nearby chair. She felt too sick to eat even if she had consumed nothing for five days, she knew she’d get over it and back to normal soon, that was life. The footsteps of the boy she had invited behind her caused her gaze to drift emptily into the portal in front of her that herself and Millie had spent all this time creating, her arms crossed, damaged one on top. He had been so happy when she’d said it was a success, “I told you it works,” she watched the blue light, the tiny football sized hole, “I have to keep it running, by Saturday it’ll be ready.”