nothing. you think nothing as your mind goes blank, the events of the past night merely a blur ; his voice loud and clear deafened by that white noise as your world goes white.
you know what's going to happen ⸻ what is happening already. choking on air. shaking. breathing in &&. being unable to breathe out.
𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?
stupid. you feel stupid for believing, not questioning prayers whispered and then shouted by your ear until you knew nothing but his confession. strong - willed, aren't you, as you stumble out of bed &&. barricade yourself in the bathroom, its floor suddenly welcoming. your only way of dealing with it — silent, bloody. it takes several slashes to finally calm you down — to easen the panic. that lets the anger arise.
you're mad. at yourself, at him, at her — for simply existing, yet knowing it's not her fault. she should've died. you should've killed her when you had the chance — can't say you didn't know how it'll end, can you? predictability &&. probability, your field of specialization. it was bound to happen. silly you, for believing.
the dizzyness &&. nausea. is it the loss of blood or is it the rage? is it because you can't scream even if you tried? because you did. nothing came out of your mouth. your throat hurts from all the pretty mewls &&. moans and whines &&. whimpers you gratified him with. you hate him. you hate yourself.
𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿?
if these fuckers from work didn't him, you would never know, so you're grateful for the first time thay they always bother him with every little thing they can't deal by themselves. they give him too much credit. if he was smarter, he would've deleted the evidence, but you always knew he's an idiot, meat for brains. gave him the benefit of a doubt every once in a while. if the sensation wasn't that new and unexpected ; if you still weren't high on that tooth rotting sweet words of his you would've slept like a baby. that phone call woke you up, and then the text message from his supervisor appeared on screen. you wanted to estimate the urgency, decided to read it. and there it was. yellow markers all across the crime scene, the prime suspect &&. guilty by your side in the bed you got for him, in the house you bought for him, in the sheets you washed for him. there's food you made for him in the fridge and there's the mess he did yesterday that you would've cleaned for him today.
it would be easier, so, so, so much easier if you could cry — but you can't. there are no tears flowing down your cheeks. the buzz of the fury you felt a second ago gone. there's nothing, not anymore. he took it from you — your heart — and now you don't even exist. no feelings, no emotions. emptiness like the one behind your eyes he despises so much.
the blade in your hand ; crimson dripping onto silk white sheets. your soft weight atop him, warm breath tickling the skin of his cheek as you reprimand him ; your lips caressing his. ❝ good morning. ❞
𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗲 𝗱𝗼?
leon kennedy killed you. let the punishment fit the crime.
