meaning well doesn't mean much when it leaves her skin crawling. puts a new clench at an already over-worked jaw and turns chris into one more shadow cast behind her. out of sight but never out of mind, his expectations, spoken or otherwise, sit a spectator here between them and one more note what's crisp folds and embossed footer have only ever evoked distaste and disinterest. school had always been a farse. sat beside peers no more hers than they were his, even their company would have been preferred to that boring stare lobbed at the base of her neck.

" i didn't start it. " nor had she finished it. sat on her hands like a good girl, rose spared the most recent trio of mean girls what would have come with far more ramifications than a note home and threat of expulsion. of course he's shown up for this though. all the cologne of disappointment and an added timbre to his voice, she's prepared to let him come to his own conclusions when another pang hits wrong and the typical tinnitus steals her breath.

she'll apologize for how she intends to storm off, later. once an irritated palm slams atop the letter, long, thin fingers bunching it as it settles. " i said i didn't want to go in the first place ! this is your fault for sending me back there ! " if she thinks about it, she'll pick up what is tossed to roll under the cabinet, tomorrow. what good that would do.

nothin' good showed up unannounced in these parts. fireflies went quiet hours ago and, even before he'd heard the first of the shots fired, he'd known something was off. let the pieces fall into place over a can open and ignored — dinner could wait. the contents would be as cold later as they were now, shoved to the far side of a table that also scooted back as he stood. retrieved the machete from beside the dying stove.. his brother got up to some stupid shit from time to time, but at this hour ?

it's the headlights that do it at first. a wide, yawning beam that bleeds through the cattails and the river moss in an eerie glow while the fog sits thick. joe's to his waist in his waders, quiet while the croak of bullfrogs begins fading off and boots on the ground turn what had been a mostly peaceful evening into a scene.

they come. they go. dark get-ups, their faces covered and their helmets low, they need better training. reporting to the same figure again and again and again, they've sold their leader to a wolf whose narrowed gaze takes roster of his arsenal. submachine gun.. grenade belt. the walkie on his chest lights up and in the bustle, the other vehicles loading up, leaving him to bring in the rear, joe'd moved.

and now..

now he thinks he should've gagged him.