#nightrot

Happy happy joy joy

Bonus slop below

Her eyebrows jump — not like the words scare her, although to an outside observer that would perhaps be the sensible response. Young girl, alone and a stranger to this town, at the edge of those very woods.

Her mouth purses, fingers stuffing another handful of barberry into her bag. There are horrible things in the woods. The woods are for all of the wild and dark and true things which civil men wish to forget. She lives in the house of the oldest of them, and cannot forget to be grateful for it.

Oh, he stopped talking.

Janet looks up from the gears she's been fussing with to raise a wry eyebrow at him. There's oil and transmission fluid all over her hands, which unfortunately for everyone only makes leaning over the table to ruffle his stupid hair more funny for her. "You'll be fine, you big baby. I'm gonna be gone for a week, I'm more worried about my poor house than you."

"Ah?" She doesn't quite look up from the needle she's pushing through the thin skin of her wrist; cold languid relief from the constant knowledge of bones which continue to move, day after day. "Za čo?"

Her eyes go comically wide, and for a second she looks like she's going to cry, or at least apologize.

Then he snaps at her, and her jaw sets in rigid stubbornness. Fucker. She considers throwing something at him as he goes to leave. Serve him right, probably.

Janet stomps across her bedroom to the door, looming over the stairs, to scowl after him. "Don't yourself! Enjoy sulking, you clingy asshole."

— — spongebob several hours later... card — —

It's not freezing out, exactly, but it is way too cold to be out in flimsy leggings and a spaghetti strap tank top. But she lost her jacket at the party, and Janet is stubborner than the wind is chilly. "Conrad!"

She rubs her hands over her arms with another shudder and scrubs at her face, ignoring the stark smudges of mascara that leaves over her knuckles.

Poppy spits out another mouthful of blood. She knows what it looks like. Knows what it sounds like when she screams, the sound getting warbled by the blood pooling in her throat when the force tears it open.

Hands still shaking, she pulls out her notebook to pen a single word - handwriting wonky and disappointing.