She called it restlessness. That’s not true, exactly.

It’s a part of it, to be certain. She can’t sleep. She paces the roof of the sheriff’s office, watching the barricades, eyes searching out the pinprick glimmers in the darkness beyond that signify friend and foe. Her breath catches, her muscles tense, at each new chance of danger. It’s not fear, ( Read more... )

I should be back in a few hours, barring any obstacles. I found good soap, at last.

Good. I’ll be waiting.

She dropped the phone back into her pocket and straightened up, looking around the room. Now would be a good time to leave.
( Read more... )

[image]

You’re never alone.

There are eyes upon her, and they’re not His. She wants to scream, to hide, to hurl the inferno that curls invisibly around her at them.

She doesn’t.

She’s getting better, learning to hide it. Subtlety. Stealth. The others think she’s still an idiot with the computers- well, she’s learning. She won’t show them, though.

In the ( Read more... )

SAT 09:51

The smarter you feel, the dumber you are. I think I’m getting dumber every day.

Fucking stupid bitch. How could I forget?

We’re not here to make friends. Every day I spend making friends and guarding the barricades is another day people are dying. Need to get my head out of my ass and think. Do something.

( Read more... )

SAT 05:39

Well.

Uh.

So that was kind of awkward.

( Read more... )

It's a doll. Pink dress, chubby legs, screws for arms and a lightbulb head.

She looks up. Laurence is smirking over his cup of Tang, something smug and cunning in those pale eyes. She drops the thing into a coat pocket, not giving it a second glance.

He's still smiling. Can he sense it? she wonders.

She carries her own hellfire with her. It wraps ( Read more... )

Further muttered recordings.

TUE 22:10

Better today.

( Read more... )

A series of muttered recordings.

MON 09:01

I don’t want to be right.

I’m the stupid one. Muscle and tits and a hammer, right? But even I can put a puzzle together if you stick the pieces in front of me. Can try, at least.

Really don’t want to be right.

( Read more... )

I just want to make friends. Is that so wrong?

( Read more... )

[Music: click here]

Silence echoes off the vaulted ceilings, today’s quiet breathing and the rustle of soft pages mingling with the remnants of last week’s, last month’s, last year’s hymns. Here and there she can make out a note. Mostly it sounds like buzzing.

The hymnal rests heavy on her lap, pressing down on damp denim. The blood came out, for the ( Read more... )