noahcollns:
He was trying his best to keep his eyes from drifting towards the weapon held tightly in Layla’s hand. It was acting as a distraction from everything else. As much as Noah wanted to say he fully trusted her, there was still a part of him that wanted to tiptoe around her in fear of setting something off. She was still unpredictable to say the least, evidently only looking out for whatever was in her best interest. There was no predicting what she’d done with the gun or what she was planning to use it for, but any outcome couldn’t be very pleasant. It was just the two of them here, and she was the only one of them who possessed a gun and actually knew how to use one. This sounded like the perfect beginning to a perfect horror film. His wild imagination was cut off as she interrupted with a fairly simple answer to his question. A simple answer that came with too many complications. There wasn’t much of a likelihood that she would have run into her mother without the meeting having been planned. From what he knew, it wasn’t like her mom was an active member of society nor had she been a good enough parent for Layla to seek her out. No, it wasn’t just that she hadn’t been good enough. Only from the small amount of details Layla shared with Noah, he could easily conclude that she was barely met the minimum standards of a mom at all. What reason could she have to want to meet her mom? Wasn’t being homeless torturous enough? He was having difficult putting all the pieces together. Layla’s inability to speak properly, a gun, and apparently a recent meeting between mother and daughter. Deep down, however, there was a part of him that knew what all of these things could be adding up to, he just didn’t want to resort to that guess just yet. But where were they supposed to start? He didn’t know what questions to ask; he still wasn’t even entirely aware of what was going on. “What- why? Since when did seeing her become a good idea? You do remember what she did to you, right?” Noah finally looked away from what was held in her hand, looking directly into her eyes as if she were a crazy person (which was partly true). The male was growing a little frustrated, although that wasn’t anything new when it came to conversations between these two. Layla was actually talking in proper sentences at this point, which was a sign of progress. She obviously had no issue with opening up to him, the night at the alley made that evident. All it took was a little bit of coaxing, time, and patience. “Okay, so you saw your mom. What happened?”
There wasn’t any part of Layla that wanted to harm Noah, and she hadn’t brought the gun with such intent. She didn’t plan on killing the one person in Southport she actually trusted – she’d simply brought the gun to remove it from the scene of the crime (if there would be a ‘scene of the crime’), seeing as she hadn’t exactly had time to put on gloves before shooting it. Layla recalled how they’d decided to go over what a bad idea it’d be to return to her mother when she talked to him in the alleyway, and she had to wonder what she’d be doing at that moment in time – July 21st, 11:17 PM (?) – had she not made the mistake of returning to her ‘home.’ Probably sitting in an alley or trying to get money, but that was better than trying to figure out whether or not she killed her mother and – even worse – whether or not she wanted to know. Although the Mary in her didn’t want to, she understood Noah’s initial frustration towards her visiting her mother; however, neither part... no parts... whatever she was compromised of could grasp his next sentence in its entirety. “Do you remember what she did to me?” she asked, both accusatory and calm in tone (a strange mix), before she remembered why she was there. It was a nice, brief break from the stress, but the reality was that she wasn’t there to have a trivial argument over her childhood. She was there to tell him what happened and get his two cents, and that was exactly what he opened the floor for with his question. “I – she convinced me to stay the night, y’know? I was – I am – homeless, so a night didn’t, y’know, seem that bad or, uh, threatening,” she began, partially using fluff words because of her feelings on the topic, partially because she didn’t want to talk about the topic. Either way, she had to get to the endgame to get Noah’s advice. “A, uh – a night turned into a week, and, y’know, so on. My ma - mother hadn’t changed in, uh, in her... ruthlessness, y’know?” Layla skipped past the details – stories behind marred flesh – and decided to tell him only if he asked, only if he deemed it necessary to help her out... or something of the sort. She paused for a second, running her fingers through her hair, then continued, “Y’know how I told you about her wanting to recreate the Crucifixion, or something along the lines? She wanted to recreate the Burning Bush. I’m, uh, I’m not sure if you know Christianity up to that point, but basically there’s a bush that burns and stays in... it stays in shape.” Layla refused to show anymore weakness than she already had. “I had a gun that someone from Detroit owned in a bag that I could reach, it had a bullet in it.” She held up the empty gun that she was gripping onto to showcase to Noah, just in case he was wondering what gun she was talking about (because she clearly had multiple), then finished, “I don’t know if I should’ve... I don’t know if she’s alive, I don’t know if that was fucking moral, I don’t know if that was okay – fuck! I just – I came here because you’re probably the most moral person I know.”













