Getting Too Old For This

indie Silent Hill OC blog for Ruth Archbolt, sister of Victim Fourteen. Potentially triggering material. Sideblog to thundersflower.

[theotherarchbolt]

“That sort of thing never did sit well with you. The world going on and continuing to turn without you. Only time I think I really saw you afraid-- genuinely afraid-- was when they put you under for surgery, and you woke up, and everything was still there...”

Her lips twitch in a tiny, cat-like smile. It runs in the family.

“You’re dead, and the people you hurt are healing. There are some days when they don’t think of you at all. One day I’ll die, and Gideon and Dolly will die, and you’ll just be another name in a history book, sharing the paragraph with Jim Stone and George Rosten.”

[deadmenstown]

“Ruth,” he whines. “I could be here for–well, for eternity. Forgotten. Nobody.”

His tone rises almost imperceptibly.

[theotherarchbolt]

She sets her jaw and meets his eyes .

“Good.”

[deadmenstown]

“How many years do you have left, Ruth? Five? Six?”

No reason to be coy about it.

“Then when Gideon and Dolly go, that’s it. The last people who really remember who I was.”

[theotherarchbolt]

“Thanks.”

She rolls her eyes. She’s more-or-less made her peace with her own mortality, but it’s still rude to say it.

“Little late to be worrying about the kind of legacy you’ll leave, isn’t it?”

See? She can do it, too.

[deadmenstown]

“Stone’s grave. Some little punks vandalized it again.”

He speaks in a sullen monotone.

“Silent Hill remembers him. Sure, as a monster–but they know his name.”

[theotherarchbolt]

“Do you--”

She blinks, baffled by-- everything coming out of her brother’s mouth, really.

“Do you want children to vandalize your grave? I don’t understand what the issue is, here.”

[skoggybear]

[deadmenstown]

@theotherarchbolt

His tone’s blank. Dead.

“They don’t remember me at all, do they?”

There’s no swagger in his stance.

[theotherarchbolt]

“What?”

She looks up from her crossword, eyes narrowed with genuine confusion.

“Who doesn’t remember you?”

[theotherarchbolt]

😂

“Jim Stone’s a bully, plain and simple. The rest of the order, they seem to at least have belief behind all the awful crap they do. Stone... Well, maybe he believes, but that’s not why he acts the way he does. He just likes that he’s bigger and meaner than anyone else in town.”

[deadmenstown]

@theotherarchbolt

“You’re afraid of me,” he purrs, nails digging into her forearm, “aren’t you, Ruthie?”

[theotherarchbolt]

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Yes. She is. Scowling, she tries to wrench her arm from his grip.

“That hurts, let go.”

[theotherarchbolt]

“I know, I saw the body after the fact. Just terrible.”

It had been terrible, but she doesn’t need to add to the pity party he has apparently decided to throw himself.

[deadmenstown]

@theotherarchbolt

Forty pounds of bone and gristle and metal were returned to Maine. One femur missing, his spine smashed in four places, his bones bleached and pitted with toothmarks, her brother was laid to rest in the family plot.

Enough of his face survived the wild dogs and the elements. Toby died with a snarl of near-delirium.

Now he’s calm, the old cunning playing around almost-living lips.

“I don’t blame you for not looking for me, Ruth.”

[theotherarchbolt]

“You’d been disappearing a lot. First couple times you turned up okay, figured that was that.”

She’s still not used to the whole ghost thing. It’s one thing to get brief flickers of premonitions. It’s another to have prepared a closed-casket funeral, grieved as best she could, and then-- surprise! He’s back to needle her like he always did.

“You’d better not be blaming me. Doubt I would have found you if I had looked.”

[jessitumbls]

cat: *purposefully climbs up my leg*

cat: *stands tall and proud on my lap*

cat: *stares steadily into middle distance*

me: would you like to sit or you know, lie down

cat: no i’m good

me: may i hug you

cat: do not hug me

[theotherarchbolt]

“Yeah, that’d be pretty cool, huh.”

She sits back with a chuckle. It’s only a little strained.

“Illegal, but hey, we’re a smart family. Could probably figure something out.”

[theotherarchbolt]

“Very dimly. I remember the next morning pretty well, though.”

She hadn’t nursed a hangover like that since college.

[theotherarchbolt]

“You want pity? I can just do pity right now, if that’s what you’re after.”

Her tone is only mostly snark.

And then, her tone softens.

“Given the option, I’d really rather not bury you. I’ll be a wreck at the funeral. All weepy. I look like a damn pug when I get weepy.”

[theotherarchbolt]

“You asked, kid.” She manages a smile. “Time off could be a good idea, yeah-- if you’ve got something else to do, of course. Sitting around and moping won’t help any, either. Take the kids out somewhere, maybe.”

[theotherarchbolt]

“Lying never works with kids, so you can throw that out the window.” She grabs the box of kleenex, pulls out a few squares to clean up the spill.

“You’re not dying just yet, Gideon. Tell them that you’re going to have to be very careful about your health from now on. And-- if you want to start being more careful about your health, well, I’m not gonna complain about it.”

[theotherarchbolt]

She gives his hand a squeeze. They’ve both known this was coming, in some form or another.

“You know I’m here for you, Gideon. No matter what happens.”