#roachscripts

[An image ID. The image was captured at ██:██PM, on the side of a backroad. The image is shaky, taken with an unsteady hand, but one thing is obviously visible.]

[A dead body.]

[Just sitting on the side of the road. Mutilated and bloated, flies all around. The hoodie that the person was wearing is torn in tons of spots, revealing deep purple bruising to the ribs and chest, and an obvious concave hole where the impact immediately landed. Broken glass lays everywhere, and deep black tire marks are just barely visible in the corner of the image. A hit and run.]

[Very little is discernible about the corpse's features. The most obvious is ripped out pieces of deep black hair coating the ground, with vague curls and waves to it. The skin, while bruised and bloodied, is the colour of the rust staining the impact spots on the hoodie he was wearing. The eyes are sealed shut, from caked on dirt weighting the eyelids down.]

[Roach's, or rather, Nymph's, shadow is visible holding the phone over the body, shaking.]

[The transcript to a 14 minute long video. The time and location are missing.]

[The world is hazy. Smoke. Thick grey clouds of smoke. A figure is wading through it, obviously struggling. Faint crackling can be heard, like you'd hear in a fireplace. The figure coughs. Practically hacking from the amount of smoke in its lungs. Roach.]

[It moves through the smoke carefully, feeling around with its foot on the ground to ensure it's safe to continue walking. Its breathing is heavy, hard, as if it ran a marathon when all its done is walk.]

[The smoke eventually clears. Roach discovers the reason for the smoke. A fire. The loud, bright fire from the trees in its town, far away. It stands there, unimpressed.]

[The scene morphs. Where the trees once stood, now lies the church of Roach's childhood. The tall, dirtied structure, with missing roof tiles and stained glass that Roach remembers staring through during particularly boring sermons. It walks inside with ease. Everything inside is the same. The same pews that lacked any cushioning. The same pens and tissue boxes on the seats. The same set of stairs leading to where the priest always stood.]

[Roach reaches halfway through the church before the bells begin. It's loud. Louder than anything imaginable. They ring through Roach's skull, rattling everything up there. It covers its ears, but that doesn't stop it. Nothing will.]

[It kneels to something unseen. The bells or God himself, its unsure. But it knows that it is something Roach feels watching it every moment of its existence, something it knows to be watching at this very second.]

[Insects nip at its hands, causing a morbidly beautiful array of purple and red spots coating its hands. When did its hands come together? It tries opening its eyes, tries prying its hands apart. Both are utterly hopeless attempts at escape.]

[The bells don't stop. Won't stop. Roach is frozen in place, unable to move, to think, to speak. It feels like its brain is being shaken around its skull, but also feels numb.]

[Is this dying? It's surprisingly peaceful, if so. If you ignore the bells tolling.]

[Roach's boots are visible in the bottom of the image. Boxes upon boxes of things surround it, clearly preparing to move. Most are empty, but a few have been taped up. A mirror is also in the background, however, it is broken and reflects in shards. It is unclear where the impact that broke the glass was.]

[A few items are visible. Papers and broken pens are in trash bags, along with energy drink cans and microwave food containers. One box is labelled "Camera necessities" with a fragile sticker. A broom and dustpan lay on the ground, clearly having fallen just before the picture.]

[End ID.]

I forgot the wallet in my bag. Apologies for being gone, but I'm now preparing to move.

[A figure enters the cafe. A dark-skinned woman, with curly hair styled in small puffs. She seems to look for someone, spotting them within seconds and moving towards them.]

[The person she was looking for was sitting with a cup of black tea that it got for politeness rather than out of thirst. The striking red hair is immediately recognized as Roach's.]

[It sits with terrible posture, scrolling on its phone while waiting. It jumps when the other woman sits across from it.]

"Oh- uh, hi Vivian."

"Roach! Hi! You look different!"

"... A good kind of different, I hope?"

"Of course it is! Your hair looks great!"

[Its dry humour and monotonous voice contrast Vivian's cheerful demeanor and compliments. Vivian calls over a waitress and orders an iced latte. Once the waitress is gone, she speaks up again.]

"So! A couple things have changed since you left, huh?"

"Ah, yeah... Had a bit of an identity crisis and chopped it all off. My hair, I mean. I like it better."

"Yeah, it looks great! Whatcha been up to?"

"Uh... The usual, y'know. Getting work where I can. It's been a bit difficult, but I have a few clients I'll see soon enough."

"Oh, good!"

[The woman, Vivian, seems happy for Roach. It offers a small smile that doesn't quite reach its eyes.]

"Uh, yeah... How about you? Where do you work now?"

"Oh, I work at a little thrift store just out of town! You probably passed it when driving in!"

"I think I know where you mean, yeah... That makes sense. It fits you.”

[The woman makes a jokingly offended face, to which Roach offers a small, raspy chuckle.]

[The pair talk for a while after that. Both seem to enjoy the conversation, with Vivian talking more than Roach.]

[Eventually, they separate, with Vivian giving Roach a hug as she disappears.]

[Silence for a moment, from both parties. Then, one speaks up.]

> ... Hello?

[Roach. The other person perks up at the word.]

> Luc- er, Roach! Ohmigosh, it's been a while! How are you?

[The other woman is noticeably more chipper than Roach. Her voice is light and cheerful, rather contrasted to Roach's more... Exhausted sound.]

> Yeah, uh... Yeah, I've been pretty good. Not much to say. How about you?

[Roach is obviously tired, and its voice is a bit raspy on account of being sick. Some app beeps at it in the background, likely Tumblr, and it curses under its breath.]

> Aha... Yeah, I've been great! Yknow, got a boyfriend I've been with for a year, working a job I don't hate, gonna have our own place soon too!

> Oh, um... Yeah, that's great to hear. Happy for you.

[Even with its monotonous voice, you can tell its being genuine in its happiness for the woman on the other end.]

> Aw, thanks! You don't sound great, are you sure you're all good?

[Roach audibly shifts a bit, coughs quietly, and replies,]

> Yeah, yeah, all good. Just a bit of a cold. Must've caught it while moving or something.

> You moved? How exciting! Where to?

> Uh... Remember that thing I said before I switched colleges? That I was never coming back to Ness Anne? Well, um... I lied, I guess.

> Oh wow, that's great! For me, at least, aha... We should meet up some time, maybe get coffee or something?

[Roach doesn't talk for a second. Stunned. Then it finally stutters out a response.]

> Uh- oh, yeah, um- sure, yeah, ah- when would you- want to meet?

[The woman on the other line chuckles a bit at Roach's stuttering.]

> You really didn't change much after leaving. How about this Monday, yeah? It's my day off.

> Mhm, uh- sounds perfect-! I'll be there, for sure.

[The two agree where to meet and what time. After that, the call switches back to them talking.]

[The transcript switches to be about a video once the call ends. No words are spoken, but Roach is seen at the small desk it fit in the trailer, its phone next to its computer, both screens darkened from not being used. It sits there, a bit stunned. Staring at the phone screen like that couldn't have been real.]

[It was going to see Vivian again.]

[Bells. Bells toll loudly, unstopping and harsh. A noise that gives anyone who hears it a splitting headache.]

[A single lantern is lit. The flame within the metal and glass flickers wildly, lashing at the glass, as if trying to leave.]

[A hand picks up the lantern. The face holding it is obscured. The figure walks forward, its stride confident in its destination.]

[It reaches the same church as always. With the dirt coated stairs, the railings with chipped paint. The stone of the stairs seems to have soaked up much water. Rain, perhaps? Regardless, the figure walks in. The bells have no effect, even as their sound grows unbearable.]

[The inside of the church has changed a little. The pews and walkway have remained, yet there is something that was not there previously. A confessional booth. The curtains conceal the inside, but the figure pushes one aside and walks in.]

[It's cramped. There's hardly room for its legs, let alone the lantern. But it kneels anyway, as is expected of it.]

[No words are exchanged. Just breaths that are clearly measured and specific. 5 seconds in, hold, 5 seconds out. It's obvious that even if nothing was said, something has changed.]

[The figure stands, grabs the lantern, and leaves. When outside the building, it casts the top off the lantern, and drops it inside.]

[The walls catch first. The figure walks away from its destruction while the church flies up into flames. Though its visible that the figure is crying while walking, small droplets hitting the ground.]

[Very little is visible. The image was taken while Roach was sitting outside, its boots visible in the bottom corners of the image. A simple mat lay underneath it, and a dirt road is visible. A trash can is cut off from the right, nearly completely empty aside from around 3 cans of energy drinks. Boxes are also cut off, completely emptied.]

[Its hand in the corner holds a fourth can of the same energy drink, half finished.]

[End ID. ]

Finally here and unpacked. I'm not doing a thing until tomorrow. My goodness.

[Breathing. Laboured, heavy breathing is the loudest noise. Loud waves crash onto the beach's shore, birds crow to signal their goodnight. Crickets chirp everywhere, people talk. But the loudest noise is still the breathing.]

[The camera moves closer to our favourite figure. Roach. Sitting on a bench, its bag and phone lay beside it, hastily discarded. Its hand clutches at its necklace. Between breaths, it rasps out a prayer. A desperate plead.]

> P-please, O Lord, if you're listening to me, help me- make it go away- I'm sorry-

[It chokes out a small sob. For a fraction of a second, something shadowy appears behind it, reaching around it, encircling it. However, just as quickly, the shadow is gone.]

[Roach freezes. A few blinks. Did God really listen to it? Was it just lucky? It doesn't care. The pain is gone. The throbbing in its head, the sharp, stinging pain in its chest, the guilt and fear that weighed like an anvil on its heart. All gone.]

[Faint footsteps are heard approaching Roach.]