I say who, I say when, I say how.
Insanity had become reality. His voice, Frost's voice inside her head was no longer the twisted nightmare of a delusional woman who had been broken. Pepper had confirmed that at the hospital. The laughter in Pepper's taunts, when she referred to the baby as Deacon's so mockingly, was the voice that echoed and stung inside her mind right now. The bile rose from her stomach violently at the thought of what lay ahead and the baby pushed its legs up hard into her ribcage, as if it too were convulsing with anger and desperate emotion as she stretched to escape its painful pushes.
The thin veneer of normality that she wore for her husband was cracking and peeling like week old nail enamel. The pills no longer able to retain that polished exterior that he demanded of her. Vivian had held on to this for too long as it was, but now it was a real threat. More than merely the fear that she had finally lost any grasp on reality, more than her own machinations of terror. Deacon Frost was laying claim to the baby inside her and when Top found out, she knew he'd blame her. Blade had taken so much him from all that time ago, and now even from beyond the grave, his actions would take his baby. Top forgave her many things, but the life of his child couldn't possibly be one of them, of this she was sure. Vivian was no longer on the brink, no pill, no drink, no drug could quell this anymore. This hadn't pushed her over the edge she had fought to balance on for so long, the edge had crumbled away beneath her feet like arid sandstone.
Reaching over to the glove compartment, quivering fingers curled around the Smith and Wesson handgun, the ten rounds of silver bullets already loaded, and tucked it into her purse hastily. She had no plan, no forethought even, and least of all any semblance of rational or realistic aim as she slammed the car door shut and clicked the fob to lock and alarm it.
'After Dark' was two blocks away from where she'd parked and the heavily pregnant woman strode towards it forcefully, despite the extra fifteen pounds she was carrying in her final month. Only one thought lingered in her mind. This was over, and it would be over on her schedule, not Deacon Frost's. Regardless of how it ended, it was over, and she would be the instigator, not him, not her husband, not anyone.
"I say who, I say when, I say how. Nothing's changed. I make the decisions. I say who, I say when, I say how. I say who, I say when, I say how." Over and over she chanted hers and Kit's mantra, inducing an almost trance like state as she made her way down the dark street, oblivious to the world around her.
((Posted and continued at Tenebrae Nostro. ))
The thin veneer of normality that she wore for her husband was cracking and peeling like week old nail enamel. The pills no longer able to retain that polished exterior that he demanded of her. Vivian had held on to this for too long as it was, but now it was a real threat. More than merely the fear that she had finally lost any grasp on reality, more than her own machinations of terror. Deacon Frost was laying claim to the baby inside her and when Top found out, she knew he'd blame her. Blade had taken so much him from all that time ago, and now even from beyond the grave, his actions would take his baby. Top forgave her many things, but the life of his child couldn't possibly be one of them, of this she was sure. Vivian was no longer on the brink, no pill, no drink, no drug could quell this anymore. This hadn't pushed her over the edge she had fought to balance on for so long, the edge had crumbled away beneath her feet like arid sandstone.
Reaching over to the glove compartment, quivering fingers curled around the Smith and Wesson handgun, the ten rounds of silver bullets already loaded, and tucked it into her purse hastily. She had no plan, no forethought even, and least of all any semblance of rational or realistic aim as she slammed the car door shut and clicked the fob to lock and alarm it.
'After Dark' was two blocks away from where she'd parked and the heavily pregnant woman strode towards it forcefully, despite the extra fifteen pounds she was carrying in her final month. Only one thought lingered in her mind. This was over, and it would be over on her schedule, not Deacon Frost's. Regardless of how it ended, it was over, and she would be the instigator, not him, not her husband, not anyone.
"I say who, I say when, I say how. Nothing's changed. I make the decisions. I say who, I say when, I say how. I say who, I say when, I say how." Over and over she chanted hers and Kit's mantra, inducing an almost trance like state as she made her way down the dark street, oblivious to the world around her.
((Posted and continued at Tenebrae Nostro. ))