Jul 18, 2015
closed ;; massxtt
“Morning, Dylan!”
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closed ;; massxtt
“Morning, Dylan!”
massxtt
What could have only been a couple of minutes felt like eternity. It was only moments ago that she got the phone call, the confirmation that her deepest fear right now was becoming a part of her dark reality - that she would be bringing a child into the chaos that surrounded her.
Norma sat at the kitchen table, remaining stoic as she waited for her oldest son to finally join her. Her hands were flat on the surface, her widened eyes just staring out before her as she tried to think of anything other than her current situation. As calm as she remained on the outside, she could feel her heart racing. She was stuck and there was nothing that she could do. It made her feel so helpless. There was a pretty good chance that she wouldn't even keep the baby, but she still felt awful about the whole thing.
As soon as she saw him making his way to the doorway, she stood and quickly rushed over to meet him. A shaky hand reached out, grabbing his to lead him back to the table. Although she was trying to move this whole thing along as quickly as possible, part of her needed some sort of physical contact. She needed to be reminded that she wasn't completely alone.
"Before I say anything, I need you to know that I'm already mad at myself. The last thing I need is for you to tell me how stupid I am," she explained as she sat back down in her seat. Looking up to him, she took a deep breath. "I did something that I should not have done. I just need to know that I can trust you not to tell anyone about it. Okay? I need you to tell me that what I'm telling you will stay between us."
Caleb hobbled through the woods, through the farm, hoping that Dylan had ignored his request and had stayed there, or maybe Gunner was around. His recent run-in with Bob Paris, hot on the trail of more dirt on Norma and willing to do whatever it took to get it, had left him with about as much strength as it had taken to get the hell out of there and not much else. How the hell he was managing to bleed from most of these places was still a mystery.
He clasped his hand over his ear as something rang in his head.
He was here. He made it to the door, knocked, and hit the ground hard.
massxtt
It’s dark.
That’s the first thing that registers as Norman cracks his eyes open; it almost reminds him of the box, in a way, with how he strains his eyes to see, his limbs feeling heavy from earlier fighting. At least whatever they’d drugged him with has worn off, but now he’s more aware of the cold, the damp in the air -- they’re somewhere near the shore, probably.
The floor is concrete and cold through his clothes, and he can hear someone coming from outside the room, footsteps and then clicks to indicate the unlocking of an intricately padlocked system. The door opens with a creak of the hinge, and a nearly blinding light pours in from atop a flight of stairs.
Once his eyesight adjusts, he sees a man -- tall, brunette, but ultimately fairly average looking, much like Norman himself -- walking in with expensive shoes. The man reaches for the wall and clicks on the light. The sudden brightness makes him wince and turn his head away, at which point he catches sight of Dylan in a similar position as himself; on a dirty concrete floor, bruises on his face.
“Hello,” comes the man’s voice in a silky but smug timbre, as he stands above Norman now, impossibly tall from where Norman’s laying flat on the floor like this, his hands tied too tightly behind his back. “You must be Norman. I’ve heard so much about you.”
This must be the man Mother was talking about. The ‘bad man’ that James Finnegan had told everything to. Norman feels a deep flash of contempt but otherwise keeps silent, gaze flicking to Dylan, unconscious on the floor.
“Oh, right. Why don’t we wake up your brother, huh?” The man walks a few strides to a few plastic chairs stacked by the wall, and he grabs one, dragging it across the floor with a screech to set Norman’s teeth on edge. And then he takes a water bottle from the same area, returns, sits in the chair, and dumps the entire bottle out onto Dylan’s face to wake him up.
massxtt replied to your post “mignon19001 replied to your post “You know what Norma should do to...”
HELL YES!
Meth buddies!!!! You’ll have to show her what to do though. Honestly Norma and chemicals is probably a really bad idea.
mignon19001 replied to your post “You know what Norma should do to pay for Norman’s medical bills? Make...”
Yes! And Dylan could be the Jesse to her Walter!! ��✨��
Yes!!!! massxtt, you wanna be my Jesse?
Okay, hopefully this works...
(OOC: I’m such a n00b...)
“Dylan... I have to take off. Let me leave you the van.”
♒
SEND ME ‘♒’ FOR MY MUSE TO HAVE A MENTAL BREAKDOWN IN FRONT OF YOURS.
massxtt Her son was missing. Norman was out there somewhere and she had no idea where. Before he had left, he locked her down in the basement. He had locked her away as though she were nothing. He tossed her aside just like everyone else in her life. He was gone and someone would find him and he would be taken away from her. Norma just sat there on the steps leading down to the basement. Her back rested against the wall as she stared down to her bloody knuckles. She had spent a good twenty minutes trying to break down the door. Eventually Dylan came home and opened the door. At that point though, it was too late. She was defeated. It was time to face the fact that there was something wrong with Norman and he was going to get caught. She didn't move, she didn't speak. There were tears running down her cheeks, but she wasn't sure that she was even crying. This whole thing felt as though it wasn't even real. Not even like a nightmare, just some random event that she was witnessing. And it numbed her. There was this loss, this emptiness that she couldn't even feel but she knew it was there nagging at her. "We're not okay," she muttered, finally admitting to herself that she was losing everything she had worked so hard to keep.