𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙻𝚈, 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺𝚂 𝙷𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙲; burnt flesh covers her, most prominent on her neck and shoulders, and you can almost smell smoke trailing behind her, as if you’d been present for whatever killed her. she’s covered in blood, as well, but you would be a hypocrite to judge her for something like that –––– a glance down at your own wispy frame shows glass still embedded in your cheekbones and a white shirt that’s now stained red, red, red. you know what she is, because you’re one of the same.
𝙶𝙷𝙾𝚂𝚃𝚂 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙲 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷𝚂 𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁. one look at her shows that hers was just as, if not more, traumatic as yours. how long has she been wandering, looking for closure, unable to get it within grasp? you breathe in deep, unnecessary, but comforting all the same. you’ve seen others of your kind, of course, but most had been spaced out, completely disassociated from reality and their own sense of being. but she, she is alert, eyes scanning as if she’s trying to figure out a puzzle you can’t even see.
𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚁𝙴 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚂𝚄𝙱𝚃𝙻𝙴. you never had to be, you made your way around life being loud and out there and proud. you didn’t get this far in life by biting your tongue and holding back every intrusive and impulsive thought you’ve had. then again, maybe if you had, you might still be alive.
❝ been dead very long, or... ? ❞
