@PT4479
her presence was a knife , her presence was nails on a chalkboard ---- something sudden / 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 , something that came from the peculiarity of nothingness . she was the sensation of shivers down your spine , of a chill so cold it sent convulsions through your body / a haywire nervous system all from her entrance alone ( and how she would use this to her advantage , how she could use her angelic face & her voice like a story - teller’s 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 ) her smile bled like roses crushed under her tongue , a curiosity that lunged & hungered & clawed its way slowly up her throat TWO PREDATORS SIT IN A ROOM / A LION & A LIONESS LOCKING EYES and yet she feels the volatile nature of him , like a storm / 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨 / something hovering on the precipice , but not daring to break itself free ❝ i’m a journalist , amy elliott . ❞
and what a fucking piss - poor excuse for journalism this was , the harvard & yale graduate ---- sat in a mental asylum & told to work magic . men demanding that she pry open the jaws of insanity until it poured out blackened ichor / men that saw the rage in her eyes & told her to weaponize it . 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 ❝ you can talk or you can not , i’ll write a story either way . ❞











