#atticusgroupa

[wtylerf-blog]

What had he done? No, better, question. What had he almost done? He had lost control plenty of times in the past. Whenever he’d have to pull the trigger, he’d lose control. But they were all just faces, nothing more. Unlike her. She was more than just a face. She was someone he knew. Friends? He wasn’t entirely sure if they were friends. But he knew her, if even just remotely. And now he was stuck in a tent, with no where to go or hide than a corner of the place. At least for now, people were too stuck into wondering what was happening than to pay attention to the boy curled up in a ball in a corner, staring right infront of him. Maybe if no one came to disturb him, he’d be able to sort out his thoughts and get a grip of himself.

[milliganmemories]

Bradley tore away another petal, grinding it into dust between her fingers. In her mind, she was imagining it was the wing of a butterfly. “Let’s make a toast,” she began, tearing her flask from its place on the table. “To drunk driving. To being shot in the leg. To attempted murder on the Ferris wheel. To us. Atticus, the place where everybody rots and pretends they don’t fucking smell it. Cheers!” She sloshed it in the face of a passing freshman and smiled blankly when he screamed about it burning. “Cheers, everyone!”