#callslgns

[gibsonder]

@callslgns: ❛  what  am  i  supposed  to  do ?  ❜

        “end my whole life.” your voice is muffled against the pillows you’ve sandwiched your head between. you’re sure you look stupid, but that is beyond the point right now. it feels like your brain is trying to leak out of your tear ducts. (this one is just light, not sound. why are they never the same? absolutely ridiculous.) but death is the only solution you can use your limited brain power to find at the moment. is it melodramatic? debatably. to an outside observer, probably. 

       “i think my brain’s comin’ out of my eyes right now, so it’d be a mercy.”

accepting.

[gibsonder]

@callslgns:  “are you sure you’re okay?”

         it’s nothing too bad, really. you turned your ankle (well, fuck, you didn’t dress for horror movie shit) & had a few scratches, but you weren’t going to die. the three of you still had a lot to deal with -- you don’t really think he means anything other than physical. you are, admittedly, scared out of your mind. but you know that river isn’t. or at least, if he is, he’s way better at hiding it than you could ever be. “ yeah, riv -- i’m good t’go, c’mon. i-i mean, this is way fucked, right, but i’m -- i’m good. ”

[gibsonder]

@callslgns: “I’m starting to re-evaluate my definition of crazy.”

         “ starting? ” you’ve elected to throw out whatever idea you’d had about what crazy was & take everything as on the chin as you can. all right, so killers are coming back from the dead. cool. they are, for some unknown reason, after you & riv & d.j. maybe you just by association & presence, but that’s close enough. you also know that they went through something similar but different a few years ago. “ i’m thinking about erasing it from my vocab entirely. ”

accepting.

[edithmaslow]

@callslgns​:  “that’s why i was so afraid. do you understand?”

         “ yeah. i do, actually. ” it’s been long enough that she doesn’t need some overly large bandage to keep the side of her face from splitting back open where daniel’s blade had traced. every day since the night it happened, she’s scrubbed her hands chapped & raw thinking she can lady macbeth his blood off her hands. teeth clamp down on her lower lip, trying to stop the threat of losing it. edith was the only person who survived making contact with him that night. she was questioned by the sheriff, barely able to talk for shock & fear of her wound reopening. he wasn’t there, behind his eyes. there was no recognition, like he was braindead. “ i, um. the -- you heard about daniel? like. floyd? h-he. he was one of the ... yeah. ” breathe, wring her hands like she’s still washing them. “ he was my boyfriend. i moved here, with him. over the summer. ”

         she’s quiet for a moment, still feeling like his blood is on her hands & face, mingling with the blood from her own wounds. she remembers wrestling the knife from him after a knock to the head, stabbing & stabbing until he stopped moving, crying & screaming. she remembers fumbling the phone, still panicked, but sounding calm over the phone. more than anything else, she remembers seeing him afterward. though she’s not sure if that was real. “ i killed him. i know ... i know what you’re talking about. it’s hell. it ... s’just hell. ”

accepting.