Molly jumped back, hands both out to try and stop Aracelis from advancing, but just as much to stop Lúcio, because she’d never heard him angry like that before.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I was--”
She was what? ‘I was only aiming for your girlfriend’s throat?’ She had known Lúcio wouldn’t forgive her for that, but he wasn’t supposed to know until it was over.
She could hear steady dripping. It called to mind when she’d spilled her coffee on a counter, and while looking for a rag or something she’d heard it dripping off the edge and onto the floor, making a mess.
She couldn’t see the wound. Had hoped maybe it was shallow, but she could hear the dripping even over the shouting, and she knew it wasn’t.
“I’m away! I’m away, just… he’s bleeding, he needs help, I’m away, just—help him already!”
It’d be fine. It’d be fine it’d be fine it’d be fine. Lúcio would get patched up, and this would get smoothed over, and it’d all be fine.
My Brother's Keeper
Night of Day 7 (Private)
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ViolentMedic
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VoltTurtle
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- Location: Dreamland
"No-"
Lúcio couldn't react properly to Aracelis taking a swing at Molly. What was she talking about, acting like she was attacking in his defense? Molly had already dropped the sword, why would violence be necessary? Sure, he was madder than a hornet at her and he had very good reason to be, but that didn't mean he wanted her to get hurt. Mama had always taught him to turn the other cheek. He might not have the faintest idea why the fighting had started, but he wasn't about to let it continue.
When Molly dodged out of the way, he surged forward, grabbing the nail bat and yanking it out of Aracelis's hands before throwing it across the room.
"Stop," he wheezed from the exertion. "No... fighting..."
That one act left him reeling from the pain, and felt like it had taken everything he had left, so he stumbled over to the bed, sat back down on it, and slumped his back against the wall. He took a deep, labored breath, trying to steady his fraying nerves, but only felt another gush of warm blood staining his clothes, and more needles of pain shooting up his whole body.
"Not for nothing," he groaned, "but it feels like I'm actually dying."
Once those words left his mouth, an overwhelming sense of doom slammed into him all at once, obliterating any sense of composure he might've had. What was- what was he supposed to do? Never once had he considered that he was actually going to die here, but now it was happening, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. What was he supposed to say? Wasn't this the moment where he had to share his parting wisdom, establish his dying last words for the history books? What could a goober like him even meaningfully contribute?
Shit. For the first time in his life, he was completely lost. He was never gonna go pro in lacrosse, or become a stand-up comedian, or even have another slice of delicious, sweet-and-savory pineapple pizza. One mistake and he had lost everything. Mom and dad and all his little sisters were going to miss him. Molly was going to miss him the most of any of them.
Right. He still had them, Molly, and Ari. His own story might be reaching its denouement, but they still had to keep going after this. Shit, he was so mad at Molly for being such an idiot, for putting them all in this situation, but he couldn't leave it on that, could he? She was crying out for Ari to help him, and there he was about to let his last interaction with his own twin sister be nothing more than him yelling at her for the first time in his life. She'd probably never let go of the guilt and pain, never be able to actually live again if he left it at that, and she had to- she had to be able to live after this. For both of them.
He swallowed all his anger, took another deep, uneasy breath, and turned the other cheek.
"Molly," he rasped, every word taking its toll on him. "It's okay. Sorry for yelling. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I... I forgive you. Please try to forgive yourself, too."
Lúcio grimaced, feeling an alien coldness seeping into his bones. His clothes and the bed were absolutely soaked in his blood now, and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. The pain at least began to ebb away, and he looked back up at them, focusing on Ari. She somehow looked just as pretty as he remembered, even in the dim light, with half her face covered by bandages.
"Ari," he muttered, "could you- could you hold me?"
Lúcio couldn't react properly to Aracelis taking a swing at Molly. What was she talking about, acting like she was attacking in his defense? Molly had already dropped the sword, why would violence be necessary? Sure, he was madder than a hornet at her and he had very good reason to be, but that didn't mean he wanted her to get hurt. Mama had always taught him to turn the other cheek. He might not have the faintest idea why the fighting had started, but he wasn't about to let it continue.
When Molly dodged out of the way, he surged forward, grabbing the nail bat and yanking it out of Aracelis's hands before throwing it across the room.
"Stop," he wheezed from the exertion. "No... fighting..."
That one act left him reeling from the pain, and felt like it had taken everything he had left, so he stumbled over to the bed, sat back down on it, and slumped his back against the wall. He took a deep, labored breath, trying to steady his fraying nerves, but only felt another gush of warm blood staining his clothes, and more needles of pain shooting up his whole body.
"Not for nothing," he groaned, "but it feels like I'm actually dying."
Once those words left his mouth, an overwhelming sense of doom slammed into him all at once, obliterating any sense of composure he might've had. What was- what was he supposed to do? Never once had he considered that he was actually going to die here, but now it was happening, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. What was he supposed to say? Wasn't this the moment where he had to share his parting wisdom, establish his dying last words for the history books? What could a goober like him even meaningfully contribute?
Shit. For the first time in his life, he was completely lost. He was never gonna go pro in lacrosse, or become a stand-up comedian, or even have another slice of delicious, sweet-and-savory pineapple pizza. One mistake and he had lost everything. Mom and dad and all his little sisters were going to miss him. Molly was going to miss him the most of any of them.
Right. He still had them, Molly, and Ari. His own story might be reaching its denouement, but they still had to keep going after this. Shit, he was so mad at Molly for being such an idiot, for putting them all in this situation, but he couldn't leave it on that, could he? She was crying out for Ari to help him, and there he was about to let his last interaction with his own twin sister be nothing more than him yelling at her for the first time in his life. She'd probably never let go of the guilt and pain, never be able to actually live again if he left it at that, and she had to- she had to be able to live after this. For both of them.
He swallowed all his anger, took another deep, uneasy breath, and turned the other cheek.
"Molly," he rasped, every word taking its toll on him. "It's okay. Sorry for yelling. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I... I forgive you. Please try to forgive yourself, too."
Lúcio grimaced, feeling an alien coldness seeping into his bones. His clothes and the bed were absolutely soaked in his blood now, and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. The pain at least began to ebb away, and he looked back up at them, focusing on Ari. She somehow looked just as pretty as he remembered, even in the dim light, with half her face covered by bandages.
"Ari," he muttered, "could you- could you hold me?"
Molly evaded her first swing but she was going to run out of space in the room eventually. Aracelis drew back again with the bay but found it pulled violently from her grip, making her stumble back.
Lúcio still had some strength left. The force and strength he put into the act made Aracelis pause. Then he spoke and announced he was dying. Her mouth flapped open and close like a fish stranded on dry land. They’d only just found each other, they’d spent a day together. He couldn’t have been dying already. It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t fair. They should have had more time, they were supposed to be safe with allies around them.
But Molly had to ruin it. Molly turned out to be no better than Bethany. No better than all the other girls that talked behind her back, no better than the others who always assumed the worst of her.
Lúcio was saying how he forgave his sister. Aracelis didn’t say anything but shot daggers at her silhouette through the darkness. Lúcio sank further onto the bed, his blood beginning to slowly drip onto the floor, the mattress so saturated it had sprung a leak.
He asked her to hold him. Aracelis sniffed and took a step back.
She didn’t want to. She shook her head, unsure if it would be visible in the darkness. But then she thought about all the times Lúcio had stood by her, he’d always speak out on her behalf. Telling people that they didn’t know her like he did.
With a loud sob she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him.
Lúcio still had some strength left. The force and strength he put into the act made Aracelis pause. Then he spoke and announced he was dying. Her mouth flapped open and close like a fish stranded on dry land. They’d only just found each other, they’d spent a day together. He couldn’t have been dying already. It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t fair. They should have had more time, they were supposed to be safe with allies around them.
But Molly had to ruin it. Molly turned out to be no better than Bethany. No better than all the other girls that talked behind her back, no better than the others who always assumed the worst of her.
Lúcio was saying how he forgave his sister. Aracelis didn’t say anything but shot daggers at her silhouette through the darkness. Lúcio sank further onto the bed, his blood beginning to slowly drip onto the floor, the mattress so saturated it had sprung a leak.
He asked her to hold him. Aracelis sniffed and took a step back.
She didn’t want to. She shook her head, unsure if it would be visible in the darkness. But then she thought about all the times Lúcio had stood by her, he’d always speak out on her behalf. Telling people that they didn’t know her like he did.
With a loud sob she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him.
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ViolentMedic
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Lúcio forgave her. Forgave her for stabbing him while Aracelis glared at her, the hate in her eyes obvious in what little light there was.
He was always too nice, too genuinely nice. It was why she’d chosen to play, she was right, she’d been right to do so, because if he could say ‘I forgive you’ now…
“You… asshole,” she whispered, her hands clenching.
She wanted him to be angry again. Because the only reason to forgive her was that there wouldn’t be another chance, and she couldn’t accept that.
“Don’t just give up. Don’t just forgive me! You’re meant to live! You’re meant to have time to hate me!” Tears were trickling down her face, and the words were distorted by sobs. “That’s… not what your anime muscle boy club does, they don’t quit, so get up. Get up. Get up and hate me!”
Let Lúcio be fine.
Let her be unforgivable, as long as he was fine.
He was always too nice, too genuinely nice. It was why she’d chosen to play, she was right, she’d been right to do so, because if he could say ‘I forgive you’ now…
“You… asshole,” she whispered, her hands clenching.
She wanted him to be angry again. Because the only reason to forgive her was that there wouldn’t be another chance, and she couldn’t accept that.
“Don’t just give up. Don’t just forgive me! You’re meant to live! You’re meant to have time to hate me!” Tears were trickling down her face, and the words were distorted by sobs. “That’s… not what your anime muscle boy club does, they don’t quit, so get up. Get up. Get up and hate me!”
Let Lúcio be fine.
Let her be unforgivable, as long as he was fine.
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VoltTurtle
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- Location: Dreamland
Ari throwing herself onto Lúcio had never bothered him before, no matter how sore he was from hitting the gym or how badly he had gotten beat up in lacrosse. She was so small compared to him, there was no way she could hurt him. This time, though, when she hit him, he felt the smallest flash of dull pain going up his side, and that's when he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was dying. At least her arms wrapped around him gave him some small amount of warmth as the cold wormed its way into his veins.
Molly wanted him to live, to get angry her, to not quit. He wasn't quitting, but he also wasn't going to deny reality, either, and reality was that blood was gushing out of him like a crimson Niagara Falls. His clothes, the bed, and even Ari herself were absolutely soaked in it already. What was he gonna do? Shrug off losing a gallon of blood?
"Nah, I'm... I'm good," he said to her, his eyelids drifting closed, already so, so tired.
Ashamed as he was to admit it, he was still just as mad at her. Scared too, absolutely terrified out of his gourd, but he wasn't letting himself show it. Those were feelings he was going to take to his rapidly approaching grave, to give them both the illusion that he died peacefully. Would he end up going to heaven after all? He supposed he was about to find out.
He felt dizzy, his vision blurring, rendering it impossible to make anything out. He was sweating, despite the chill in the air and how cold he felt. He heard his heart hammering faster than ever before in his ears, until white noise overtook it and everything else. He could barely bring himself to make the barest movement. Everything continued to slow down, as all the anger, fear, and pain gradually ebbed away into nothing at all.
This was it.
He rested his head on Ari's own, taking in the last whiffs of her scent.
"Be kind... to each other," he struggled to say, slurring his speech. "Don't hurt anyone else... and, don't die... both of you..."
Those last words took everything he had left.
As his last dregs of his consciousness faded away, he saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and swore for a moment that he smelled seawater.
After a few more minutes, his heart finally stopped.
Molly wanted him to live, to get angry her, to not quit. He wasn't quitting, but he also wasn't going to deny reality, either, and reality was that blood was gushing out of him like a crimson Niagara Falls. His clothes, the bed, and even Ari herself were absolutely soaked in it already. What was he gonna do? Shrug off losing a gallon of blood?
"Nah, I'm... I'm good," he said to her, his eyelids drifting closed, already so, so tired.
Ashamed as he was to admit it, he was still just as mad at her. Scared too, absolutely terrified out of his gourd, but he wasn't letting himself show it. Those were feelings he was going to take to his rapidly approaching grave, to give them both the illusion that he died peacefully. Would he end up going to heaven after all? He supposed he was about to find out.
He felt dizzy, his vision blurring, rendering it impossible to make anything out. He was sweating, despite the chill in the air and how cold he felt. He heard his heart hammering faster than ever before in his ears, until white noise overtook it and everything else. He could barely bring himself to make the barest movement. Everything continued to slow down, as all the anger, fear, and pain gradually ebbed away into nothing at all.
This was it.
He rested his head on Ari's own, taking in the last whiffs of her scent.
"Be kind... to each other," he struggled to say, slurring his speech. "Don't hurt anyone else... and, don't die... both of you..."
Those last words took everything he had left.
As his last dregs of his consciousness faded away, he saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and swore for a moment that he smelled seawater.
After a few more minutes, his heart finally stopped.
She held him until she felt his heartbeat slow and stop, until the warmth of his breath vanished from her face, until he became silent and still. She could hear Molly mewling and whining behind her, Aracelis' lip twitched and she sniffed as she steadied her breathing. After a short delay she released Lúcio, the body that had been Lúcio.
Silently she rubbed her eye and then stepped into the shadows of the room, looking for her bat. As she did so she absentmindedly scratched at her bandages. Her clothes were once again soaked with blood but unlike previously it wasn't hers. She wished that it had been harder to make a decision about Molly, if only because they'd been friends for so long. But the truth was her mind had been made up from the first swing of the sword, even before Lúcio had been hit.
Her hand grasped the baseball bat once again, the weight familiar and comforting. She stood up but didn't turn around.
"You have five seconds to leave." She hissed from the shadows. "I don't want to see you when I turn around."
Silently she rubbed her eye and then stepped into the shadows of the room, looking for her bat. As she did so she absentmindedly scratched at her bandages. Her clothes were once again soaked with blood but unlike previously it wasn't hers. She wished that it had been harder to make a decision about Molly, if only because they'd been friends for so long. But the truth was her mind had been made up from the first swing of the sword, even before Lúcio had been hit.
Her hand grasped the baseball bat once again, the weight familiar and comforting. She stood up but didn't turn around.
"You have five seconds to leave." She hissed from the shadows. "I don't want to see you when I turn around."
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ViolentMedic
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He was gone.
Gone after leaving an impossible request.
Molly couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. Could only stare. Everything in her stomach felt tight, and there was this sickly warmth crawling up her throat like she was going to puke, but nothing was there.
If Aracelis had attacked her in that moment, Molly probably couldn’t have done a thing about it.
But she chose to follow Lúcio’s last words as well as she reasonably could. Chose to be the kindest she could, more than Molly deserved, but it wasn’t about either of them.
Molly’s first coherent thought, when Aracelis told her to go and turned away, was that she could kill Aracelis right there and then. She wasn’t looking. She was so still. Why couldn’t she have been that way when it mattered?
She couldn’t raise the sword now. Because if she did… it would just be for her.
Molly took too long to move. Just shy of the five seconds, she finally grabbed her sword and her bag, and she fled the room. She couldn’t look at Lúcio as she went, even in the shadowy state he was in.
Her sight was blurry with tears. She burst into the hallway, and immediately ran into a figure covered in snow.
Gone after leaving an impossible request.
Molly couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. Could only stare. Everything in her stomach felt tight, and there was this sickly warmth crawling up her throat like she was going to puke, but nothing was there.
If Aracelis had attacked her in that moment, Molly probably couldn’t have done a thing about it.
But she chose to follow Lúcio’s last words as well as she reasonably could. Chose to be the kindest she could, more than Molly deserved, but it wasn’t about either of them.
Molly’s first coherent thought, when Aracelis told her to go and turned away, was that she could kill Aracelis right there and then. She wasn’t looking. She was so still. Why couldn’t she have been that way when it mattered?
She couldn’t raise the sword now. Because if she did… it would just be for her.
Molly took too long to move. Just shy of the five seconds, she finally grabbed her sword and her bag, and she fled the room. She couldn’t look at Lúcio as she went, even in the shadowy state he was in.
Her sight was blurry with tears. She burst into the hallway, and immediately ran into a figure covered in snow.
"Hey- hey!" Leslie, covered in the fresh fallen snow that gradually shook off with each motion but looked like a yeti regardless, reached his arms towards a hysterically crying Molly to grab her and get her attention, but she narrowly avoided his grip before the two traded orientations in the hallway.
"Wait- calm down- wait! Where are you going?" He said, stepping forward, trying everything to get her to stop.
What the hell happened while he was gone? Everything was peachy five minutes ago, but clearly something happened for someone who was laughing with him talking about Ninja Turtles to suddenly be red in the face and sobbing like crazy running away with a bag and a sword.
What the hell happened?
"Wait- calm down- wait! Where are you going?" He said, stepping forward, trying everything to get her to stop.
What the hell happened while he was gone? Everything was peachy five minutes ago, but clearly something happened for someone who was laughing with him talking about Ninja Turtles to suddenly be red in the face and sobbing like crazy running away with a bag and a sword.
What the hell happened?
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ViolentMedic
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She ducked back, avoiding his grip like it meant her life to do so.
But she did stop. Just briefly.
She knew she should say something, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember how to string together a coherent sentence, even if she knew what she wanted to say.
“I… it...”
Torn between ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘it’s not my fault’ and ‘what am I supposed to do’ and ‘it is my fault’ and ‘how can I be kind and live and not die in this hellscape’ and ‘he’s gone he’s gone he’s gone he’s gone’ underlying the whole jumble, tangled in with the nausea and the panic and the grief--
So she just stared at Leslie for a moment longer, then ran off.
((Molly Oliveira continued in Persist In The Doomed World You Have Created.))
But she did stop. Just briefly.
She knew she should say something, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember how to string together a coherent sentence, even if she knew what she wanted to say.
“I… it...”
Torn between ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘it’s not my fault’ and ‘what am I supposed to do’ and ‘it is my fault’ and ‘how can I be kind and live and not die in this hellscape’ and ‘he’s gone he’s gone he’s gone he’s gone’ underlying the whole jumble, tangled in with the nausea and the panic and the grief--
So she just stared at Leslie for a moment longer, then ran off.
((Molly Oliveira continued in Persist In The Doomed World You Have Created.))
She heard the footsteps and scraping of the sword, it was followed by the sound of running and then Molly was gone.
Aracelis wondered if she had done the wrong thing. She’d followed Lúcio’s instructions, at least the letter of them. But she’d taken away Molly’s chance to say goodbye to her brother. They were siblings after all and Aracelis had been able to hold him and say goodbye while he passed. Meanwhile, Molly had to stand and watch the result of her actions, any chance or opportunity for closure being denied by Aracelis evicting her from the room under threat of death.
Maybe she was wrong for doing it. But Aracelis would have been lying if she claimed she didn’t get a bitter satisfaction from the action. When sure turned around and the room was empty she only had one thought.
“Good.”
But it was a short-lived and ultimately pyrrhic victory. For Lúcio was still dead and she had only survived due to pure luck.
She sunk down the wall until she was sat on the floor with her knees up. The roaring fire of anger that erupted from within smothered and suffocated by what had happened. The bat dropped out of her hand and rolled a short distance away. Aracelis looked up at Lúcio sitting on the bed. A steady drip of blood fell off the metal frame at regular intervals and was the only other sound besides her sniffling.
Unable to look at him any longer Aracelis’ head dropped into her arms and she began to sob.
Aracelis wondered if she had done the wrong thing. She’d followed Lúcio’s instructions, at least the letter of them. But she’d taken away Molly’s chance to say goodbye to her brother. They were siblings after all and Aracelis had been able to hold him and say goodbye while he passed. Meanwhile, Molly had to stand and watch the result of her actions, any chance or opportunity for closure being denied by Aracelis evicting her from the room under threat of death.
Maybe she was wrong for doing it. But Aracelis would have been lying if she claimed she didn’t get a bitter satisfaction from the action. When sure turned around and the room was empty she only had one thought.
“Good.”
But it was a short-lived and ultimately pyrrhic victory. For Lúcio was still dead and she had only survived due to pure luck.
She sunk down the wall until she was sat on the floor with her knees up. The roaring fire of anger that erupted from within smothered and suffocated by what had happened. The bat dropped out of her hand and rolled a short distance away. Aracelis looked up at Lúcio sitting on the bed. A steady drip of blood fell off the metal frame at regular intervals and was the only other sound besides her sniffling.
Unable to look at him any longer Aracelis’ head dropped into her arms and she began to sob.
Words choked Leslie's throat as he also couldn't string another coherent sentence together. All he could do was stare at Molly as she mirrored back, until she was the one to break the mutual gaze and ran down the hall Leslie emerged from.
"Molly! Wait!" He echoed again, giving chase against her fading footsteps as he ran as fast as he could. As he rounded the stairs he could just make her out at the bottom, like a shadow. He sped up faster as he descended the stairs.
But just as he reached the last few steps, his left foot slipped on drops of melted snow. Down Leslie went as his foot sailed over and his back crashed into the stairs. He grabbed the railing and righted himself as quick as he could, but the exterior door at the end of the hall opening and slamming shut was already a distant memory.
A scowl etched on his face as he caressed his lower back with the back of his hand. "Dios mío," he seethed under his breath, moreso at anger at his own injury than the confusion of, well, whatever spooked her bad. Aracelis probably just said something to upset her; that seemed pretty in character. Though if that was the case, why did she run off with her stuff? Unless she wasn't intending to come back...
But then why wouldn't she, with Lúcio here? Unless they got into a fight, but something about that line of thinking seemed impossible. Then again, after a week of running around and trying to not get murdered, maybe even the strongest of bonds could rot.
Regardless, standing here wasn't gonna give him any more context. So with a huff and the hand still rubbing his back, he returned towards the room Lúcio and Aracelis had been sleeping in. He listened to the door left ajar for a few seconds. Someone was crying, the muted kind of crying someone did when they thought only God was listening in. It was the same crying Aracelis did back at the house. He didn't hear anything else.
His stomach curled. The anxiety crushed him like he was a kid again showing his dad the first report card he ever got a D on. He really didn't want to go in, but he had to. It was suicide if he ran away without his supplies.
"Everything okay? I'm coming in."
One hand pulled on the handle and dragged it open. The metal scraped against the floor as he stepped inside.
"Just saw Molly and-"
He froze into the ground at the copper stench and the sight of blood dripping off the bed frame.
"Molly! Wait!" He echoed again, giving chase against her fading footsteps as he ran as fast as he could. As he rounded the stairs he could just make her out at the bottom, like a shadow. He sped up faster as he descended the stairs.
But just as he reached the last few steps, his left foot slipped on drops of melted snow. Down Leslie went as his foot sailed over and his back crashed into the stairs. He grabbed the railing and righted himself as quick as he could, but the exterior door at the end of the hall opening and slamming shut was already a distant memory.
A scowl etched on his face as he caressed his lower back with the back of his hand. "Dios mío," he seethed under his breath, moreso at anger at his own injury than the confusion of, well, whatever spooked her bad. Aracelis probably just said something to upset her; that seemed pretty in character. Though if that was the case, why did she run off with her stuff? Unless she wasn't intending to come back...
But then why wouldn't she, with Lúcio here? Unless they got into a fight, but something about that line of thinking seemed impossible. Then again, after a week of running around and trying to not get murdered, maybe even the strongest of bonds could rot.
Regardless, standing here wasn't gonna give him any more context. So with a huff and the hand still rubbing his back, he returned towards the room Lúcio and Aracelis had been sleeping in. He listened to the door left ajar for a few seconds. Someone was crying, the muted kind of crying someone did when they thought only God was listening in. It was the same crying Aracelis did back at the house. He didn't hear anything else.
His stomach curled. The anxiety crushed him like he was a kid again showing his dad the first report card he ever got a D on. He really didn't want to go in, but he had to. It was suicide if he ran away without his supplies.
"Everything okay? I'm coming in."
One hand pulled on the handle and dragged it open. The metal scraped against the floor as he stepped inside.
"Just saw Molly and-"
He froze into the ground at the copper stench and the sight of blood dripping off the bed frame.
Aracelis heard Leslie enter but didn’t immediately react. Only when he went quiet did she rub at her eye and choke her sobs down. She needed to stay strong and keep any weakness held down.
“It was Molly,” She grumbled, listlessly pointing at Lúcio. The blood continued to steadily drip onto the floor, a tap that wouldn’t turn off.
“She attacked me and hit him.” Aracelis shrugged weakly and looked away from the body of her boyfriend. There was a pregnant pause before she exhaled and stood up. One of her hands rested against the wall for support as her legs were shaking from a combination of shock and anger.
Bending over she scooped up her bag and as she did she saw the bottom had become stained with blood and it added to the drops falling from the bed frame. Aracelis grimaced but didn’t do anything about it.
She merely watched the ripples slowly expand across the pool by her feet.
“We can split his supplies and then go.” She said softly.
“It was Molly,” She grumbled, listlessly pointing at Lúcio. The blood continued to steadily drip onto the floor, a tap that wouldn’t turn off.
“She attacked me and hit him.” Aracelis shrugged weakly and looked away from the body of her boyfriend. There was a pregnant pause before she exhaled and stood up. One of her hands rested against the wall for support as her legs were shaking from a combination of shock and anger.
Bending over she scooped up her bag and as she did she saw the bottom had become stained with blood and it added to the drops falling from the bed frame. Aracelis grimaced but didn’t do anything about it.
She merely watched the ripples slowly expand across the pool by her feet.
“We can split his supplies and then go.” She said softly.
He couldn't take his eyes off the blood slowly pooling on the floor like a red rain puddle. Aracelis was saying something as she stood, but it might've as well had been in Esperanto for all Leslie could hear.
Something broke through and compelled him to look away from the corpse. His hand covered his mouth, the edge of his forefinger pressing against his upper lip as his brain screamed at him to hide.
Several more seconds trudged through silence before he replied to Aracelis with a few shakes of the head, and he wordlessly walked out of the room with a driving pace and no eye contact.
Something broke through and compelled him to look away from the corpse. His hand covered his mouth, the edge of his forefinger pressing against his upper lip as his brain screamed at him to hide.
Several more seconds trudged through silence before he replied to Aracelis with a few shakes of the head, and he wordlessly walked out of the room with a driving pace and no eye contact.
Leslie walked in, took a long silent look around and then walked out again. It left Aracelis to pick up the pieces. Something that she didn’t want to do but knew they needed to.
Regardless of it being Lúcio they couldn’t turn down free supplies. It was their entire strategy. But something about the scene was too much for Leslie.
It didn’t seem fair to Aracelis, she had been forced to live through it but Leslie couldn’t even look at it without being overwhelmed. He’d been able to walk away, whereas she’d been trapped with a former friend swinging a sword around and trying to stab her while she slept.
And where exactly had Leslie been away?
Aracelis didn’t say anything to Leslie’s departing form, she didn’t have the energy or appetite to start a fight. Instead she just turned around and got to work. She made no attempt to avoid the pool of blood and stepped through it to get to the bed. Her shoes had already been ruined by her own blood so adding her boyfriend’s wasn’t going to make a difference. There was a soft sloshing sound as she stepped through the pool and she could feel the soles of her shoes sticking when she stood still. That combined with the overwhelming smell of the blood made her gag, but she forced herself forward.
Avoiding looking at Lúcio directly, Aracelis picked up his bag and started to root through it for supplies or anything of value. She was greeted by exactly what she expected, her man had made a sizeable dent in his food stock, which she had expected because that was what he did. But he’d also left behind three grenades. They were round black orbs with the words ‘STING-BALL GRENADE’ in white block capitals. Aracelis wasn’t one hundred percent sure what that meant but she shoved them in her bag anyway. Leslie didn’t need to know about them. For the food she put half of what was left, some bottles of water, a quarter of a loaf of bread and some assorted carbs, into her bag and left half in Lúcio’s, then she turned around and pulled her feet free of the blood puddles grip, leaving bloody footprints behind as she left the room.
Leslie was sat on the top stair when she emerged, staring down into the darkness. She approached, self-consciously aware of the wet noise her shoes made with every step, and placed the bag next to him.
“That’s your half,” She said, before she stepped past him and started down the stairs. “If you don’t want it I’ll take it.”
Halfway down the dark steps and aware that Leslie hadn’t made a move to follow her, she turned back around and looked up at him. He’d continued to just stare out into the darkness of the building, his body seeming to shrink in on itself. She wasn’t sure if he was sulking or shellshocked but either way she needed him to move.
“Come on, I don’t want to stay here.”
((Aracelis Fuentes continued in Dead Body))
Regardless of it being Lúcio they couldn’t turn down free supplies. It was their entire strategy. But something about the scene was too much for Leslie.
It didn’t seem fair to Aracelis, she had been forced to live through it but Leslie couldn’t even look at it without being overwhelmed. He’d been able to walk away, whereas she’d been trapped with a former friend swinging a sword around and trying to stab her while she slept.
And where exactly had Leslie been away?
Aracelis didn’t say anything to Leslie’s departing form, she didn’t have the energy or appetite to start a fight. Instead she just turned around and got to work. She made no attempt to avoid the pool of blood and stepped through it to get to the bed. Her shoes had already been ruined by her own blood so adding her boyfriend’s wasn’t going to make a difference. There was a soft sloshing sound as she stepped through the pool and she could feel the soles of her shoes sticking when she stood still. That combined with the overwhelming smell of the blood made her gag, but she forced herself forward.
Avoiding looking at Lúcio directly, Aracelis picked up his bag and started to root through it for supplies or anything of value. She was greeted by exactly what she expected, her man had made a sizeable dent in his food stock, which she had expected because that was what he did. But he’d also left behind three grenades. They were round black orbs with the words ‘STING-BALL GRENADE’ in white block capitals. Aracelis wasn’t one hundred percent sure what that meant but she shoved them in her bag anyway. Leslie didn’t need to know about them. For the food she put half of what was left, some bottles of water, a quarter of a loaf of bread and some assorted carbs, into her bag and left half in Lúcio’s, then she turned around and pulled her feet free of the blood puddles grip, leaving bloody footprints behind as she left the room.
Leslie was sat on the top stair when she emerged, staring down into the darkness. She approached, self-consciously aware of the wet noise her shoes made with every step, and placed the bag next to him.
“That’s your half,” She said, before she stepped past him and started down the stairs. “If you don’t want it I’ll take it.”
Halfway down the dark steps and aware that Leslie hadn’t made a move to follow her, she turned back around and looked up at him. He’d continued to just stare out into the darkness of the building, his body seeming to shrink in on itself. She wasn’t sure if he was sulking or shellshocked but either way she needed him to move.
“Come on, I don’t want to stay here.”
((Aracelis Fuentes continued in Dead Body))
Leslie didn't say anything or even flinch at the bag tossed into his side.
After Aracelis descended the stairs and beckoned for him to come, he wordlessly grabbed the bag and followed her, his eyes glued to the ground as he didn't have the strength to keep his head up.
He didn't know what he wanted anymore, but he didn't want to stay here, either.
((to be continued))
After Aracelis descended the stairs and beckoned for him to come, he wordlessly grabbed the bag and followed her, his eyes glued to the ground as he didn't have the strength to keep his head up.
He didn't know what he wanted anymore, but he didn't want to stay here, either.
((to be continued))