#gunsliiinger

          he thought about it-- in whatever what a spirit can think. to visit. contemplating within the astral plane, time moving and not moving. he can’t shake the simple fact that he feels an unfamiliar sense of peace. like the boredom he’d learned to love in the stadium, but... better. freer. but there was still so much tethering him to chaos ridden earth. well. four people, to be exact. but even in this peaceful nothingness, that number loomed mighty and overwhelming. what could be possibly say... to any of them? 

         he needs a practice round. someone who can relay in case it’s a one off thing. he thinks maybe it is. he thinks this timeless place maybe finite, after all. the thought has no sooner manifested than he has within some world, not real, but not of his own making either.

         “ you’re, uh, john, right? ”

´ I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN TO WAKE YOU ´  broken porcelain.   Fragile but never weak,   the shadow of a young girl you wouldn’t recognize in front of the mirror,   This is not who you are.   a scary gazelle afraid of everything and everyone.       ´     it’s hard you know     ´       The old polaroid you have been holding is quickly folded and put to safety between your thigh and the wooden floor       ´     ----this ...    ´      to feel safe you mean.        ´       good things never last ...      ´      a deep sigh.   Eyes finally meet his own.   

there’s an elephant in the room when it comes to the reason  why  she reacts the way she does.  it’s fairly obvious ; her brother died in her arms, she immediately responded with  anger  and the need for revenge... god, her mind is twisted up in hundreds of ways. while she barely  knows  john, he kind of reminds her of travis, maybe even her father. her father by looks, and travis by  heart.  loud breaths escape pursed lips, and she attempts to calm herself with the whole  ‘breath in through the nose, out the mouth’  technique. 

what she   needs   is that bit of human contact, that bit of  humanity. john is able to give that to her. he has a calming aura, undeniably, and when he asks her to look at him, she does. focus on him, she distracts the cyclone of thoughts with the tone of his voice, the  meaning  of his words. he gives her one thing to focus on. the girl nods at his words, beads of sweat mixing with tears that run down her cheeks.  ❝  i shouldn’t have left him alone with him. ❞  if she had stayed with him instead of going with everyone else, she would have been able to keep his head on straight. she would have been able to keep him from running to that building, getting himself killed by that.. child.

she’s  stubborn  ,        but  the  pain  is  slowly  starting  to  get  unbearable  ,        the  wound  only  continuing  to  burn  and  ache  .        she grunt , head rolling as she almost glares at the other  .               ❝      fine  ,        i’ll  allow  you  to  stitch  me  up  .      ❞               her  chest  rises  ,        a  lump  forming  in  the  middle  of  her  throat  .               ❝      so  long  as  we  open  that  bottle  of  vodka  .        because  there’s  no  way  i’m  letting  you  touch  me  sober  .      ❞