#puzzleboxed

*    ⊰    @puzzleboxed​    ⊱    𝔯𝔢𝔡𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡  . ↳    i  want  to  walk  through  flowers ,  be  mistaken  for  one .

SHE  IS  SURROUNDED  BY  PEONIES  ,   BLOOD  -  RED  AND  SHINING  .   they’re  like  satin  in  the  half - light  ,   the  blazing  sun  lowers  its  head  and  nods  off  as  readily  as  a  tired  infant  .   lucy  is  sad  to  see  it  go  .   kirsty  becomes  quite  candid  after  daylight  hours  ,   however  ,   the  inside  of  this  girl’s  head  is  horrific  .

lucy  cannot  blame  kirsty  for  such  thoughts  ,   they’re  twin  in  her  own  mind  .   she  reaches  for  a  peony  and  is  shocked  when  her  fingers  don’t  come  away  sticky  and  crimson  .   the  stem  breaks  with  a  soft  ,   snapping  sound  .   she  holds  the  flower  out  to  her  friend  ,   a  sad  smile  on  her  face  .   the  smile  of  a  woman  who  knows  not  the  answer  to  ease  this  sort  of  pain  .

It’s the drive to and between that drives him mad. Back and forth, day and night, always going from his home to the institute and never anywhere else. Still, there’s a calm to it, the drive. A soothing silence provided by the purr of his car’s engine and the gravel beneath his tires-- very neutral tones that do good to sooth the storm. Almost like sleeping.

And then, in the distance, Barry see someone. Very odd for these old backroads, especially this one as it leads directly to and from the Institute. Foot presses into the break, and it causes his jaw to clench in the anticipation of an early stop.

“Oh yeah. Judgment. Totally what I’m concerned about.”

She’s been curled up on this floor in the fetal position for what feels like days. Laying here, she can barely feel anything anymore. She’s surprised she has a concept of time. She just knows that she’s freezing and then hot and she’s got a fever and it’s pulsing in her temples, absolutely burning in her whole body. She thinks she’s had a seizure, but she doesn’t really know-- she hasn’t been able to get off the ground.

There are bloodied little crescent nail marks pressed into her sides where she’s bitten into her flesh as hard as she can with her hands. Blood, blood, left to dry under the curve of her touch. The Arc keeps flickering and dimming, her heart-rate dipping up, down, up.

She presses her cheek against the feel of the cold floor more securely and shuts her eyes. Shivers, shivers, hard and harder, sound of her father’s voice. Stop being so sensitive. She feels her stomach roil again, clench almost too hard. She rolls over, then, restlessly trying the other side of her body to see if that one might be more comfortable.

Shocker, it isn’t.

Mermaid: Tag someone who is a positive influence on you.              

IM CRYIN. this is perfect