#cultb0rn

[narrativeobsession]

@cultb0rn // continued

"honestly and truly they put a limit on the amount of samples you can have now. i'm not saying that's my fault BUT." Splenda grins. "there's also this local corner shop near where my apartment is. i'm only allowed to buy two energy drinks at a time now. there's a sign on the cooler door that just says 'limit, two energy drinks per customer per day.'"

He giggles, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"i'm not saying it's because i bought four one day and drank them all and literally destroyed their bathroom an hour later but then again..."

[stagsong]

“can I tell you a secret?” for colter

HE   TUGS   ON   HIS   LEATHER   VEST,   TRYING   TO   READJUST   IT.   the   colorful   sponsor   patches   sewn   into   the   material   would   be   an   eyesore   anywhere   else   but   here   it's   common   practice,   a   single   hand   sliding   over   a   monster   logo   on   his   shoulder   as   he   tries   to   rub   the   pain   there.   he   shuffles   to   the   bleachers   and   sits   back   onto   the   uncomfortable   metal,   playful   eyes   looking   up   at   cora   as   he   reaches   into   a   little   bag   of   popcorn.            “   well   now   you have to.   ”            he   smiles   at   her,   tossing   a   piece   back   into   his   mouth   and   chewing.   normally   he'd   be   gone   after   a   ride   like   that,   soaking   in   some   epsom   salt   and   shooting   back   a   bottle   of   jim   beam   but   despite   how   sore   and   achy   he   felt   a   part   of   him   didn't   want   to   leave,   the   smell   of   horse   shit   and   concession   snacks   an   odd   comfort.   truth   was   he   didn't   want   to   go   home   yet.   he   needed   this   moment   to   unwind   before   being   a   responsible   adult   again.   he   patted   the   metal   seat   beside   himself,   leather   booted   feet   kicking   up   to   rest   on   the   railing   in   front   of   him.            “   ‘m   all   ears.   ”

/ @cultb0rn

[stagsong]

“why didn’t you tell me?” for andrew

HE   FIDGETS   WITH   THE   RIM   OF   HIS   SHERIFFS   HAT,   taking   it   off   his   head   and   slinking   down   into   the   creaky   wooden   dining   chair   in   his   small   kitchen.   truth   was   he   didn't   get   close   enough   to   anyone   these   days   to   bring   them   in,   to   show   them   what's   been   consuming   his   every   waking   thoughts.   he   turns   his   attention   to   the   cork   board   hung   on   the   wall,   filled   with   various   newspaper   clippings   regarding   the   abigail worth   case,   autopsy   reports,   witness   accounts.   then   his   attention   turned   back   to   cora,   a   sort   of   ghost   of   an   embarrassed   smile   tugs   on   tired   lips.            “   i'd   figure   you'd   think   i's   crazy.   ”            he   let   out   a   weary   sigh,   long   legs   spread   as   he   leaned   back   to   take   up   more   space   in   the   small   area.            “   ain't   really   an   easy   thing   to   talk   about—   ain't   something   most   folks   wanna   hear.   dead   little   girls   tend   to   be   an   uneasy   topic,   can't   blame   me   for   sparing   you   least   that   much.   ”

/ @cultb0rn

[stagsong]

“do you forgive them?” for west

THE   QUESTION   DRAWS   DARK   BLUE   EYES   TO   NARROW   SLIGHTLY,   brows   furrowing   after.   large   hand   grips   the   width   of   the   amber-filled   glass,   a   single   finger   working   the   rim   before   he   brings   it   to   his   lips.   it   was   a   loaded   question   it   seemed,   a   personal   one   that   if   he   had   been   more   sober   maybe   he   would   have   just   grunted   and   moved   onto   a   different   subject.   but   the   warmth   of   his   whiskey   travels   down   his   throat   and   he   decides   to   humor   her,   a   shrug   lifting   from   broad   shoulders.   how   the   topic   of   shitty   families   came   up   he   wasn't   sure,   but   she   seemed   sincere   enough,   pretty   in   a   way   that   turned   his   drunk   brain   to   caveman—   sure   why   not?   when   else   did   he   talk   about   his   disappointing   childhood.                  “   old   man's   still   'round   but   he's   older   and   sicker   now…   he's   not   the   same   man   he   was   but   he's   also   not   exactly   apologetic.   hard   to   hate   a   man   who's   rotting   in   a   wheelchair—   even   harder   to   forget   all   the   things   he's   done.   ”         he   winces   at   his   own   oversharing,   shooting   back   the   rest   of   his   drink   before   turning   to   face   her.         “   so   guess   maybe   no.   ”

/ @cultb0rn