“ anything in there that i don’t know ? ” there , a hardcover novel of him and james march and their crusades ; a story in two parts , john had heard , that chronicled the lives and deaths of both killers , and gave every gory detail of the ten commandment killings . he is almost appreciative of the author , an unbiased woman , who took the time to tell nothing but the facts . ( at least , as far as he had understood . ) @diorbled.
❝ i shouldn’tthink so. ❞ index that had lingered at the corner of the page in preparedness to turn( the light weight of it almost enough to crease the parchment ) moves instead to act as a temporary bookmark, finger sliding to rest between paper as the novel comes to a gentle close. it wouldn’t be the first biography she’s read on a serial killer, but this particular number does have a personal connection to her –– & she’d be a bold - faced liar if she said she wasn’t even the least bit curious. ❝ but –– if you would like to critique the author’s accuracy –– ❞ grasp now grips the book in its entirety, her place lost, as she gives it a little shake at the end of her extended palm, ❝ –– be my guest. ❞
hamilton ( cut songs/workshop versions ) sentence starters !!
❝ the reality is not a pretty picture. ❞ ❝ tell him to stay home! ❞ ❝ you have invented a new kind of stupid. ❞ ❝ i begged you to take a break, you refused to. ❞ ❝ you’re the only enemy you ever seem to lose to! ❞ ❝ i look at you and think ‘god what have we done with our lives, and what did it get us?’ ❞ ❝ i’m not here for you. ❞ ❝ i will choose her happiness over mine every time. ❞ ❝ she died. she’s gone. ❞ ❝ she changed my life. she made my life worthwhile. ❞ ❝ sometimes it seems that’s all we do. ❞ ❝ you and i will build a strong foundation. ❞ ❝ you’ll blow us all away, someday. ❞ ❝ just apologize, we have worthier pursuits! ❞ ❝ that’s when i realized this was not a game. ❞ ❝ i want the world to know what i intended to do. ❞ ❝ he must have been so scared. ❞ ❝ i never had his instinct for self preservation. ❞ ❝ it’s not in his political interest to kill me. ❞ ❝ god, i can’t wait to see her again. ❞ ❝ bitch, please! you wouldn’t know what i’m doing! ❞ ❝ the line’s behind me, i crossed it again. ❞ ❝ you fat mother f– ! ❞ ❝ we in the shit now, somebody’s gotta shovel it. ❞ ❝ if you knock me down i get the fuck back up again. ❞ ❝ you swing at my family, you better not miss. you better have another punch to throw. ❞ ❝ you could let it go. ❞ ❝ people will always be critical. ❞ ❝ let other people be cynical. ❞ ❝ you’re smiling because you know i’m right. ❞ ❝ you didn’t kill him, did you? ❞ ❝ were you here this whole time? ❞ ❝ you don’t have to bring a gun to a knife fight. ❞ ❝ you know you really ought to listen to your wife, right? ❞ ❝ i hope you’re happy. ❞ ❝ you could have given me a word of warning. ❞ ❝ shhh. haven’t you talked enough? ❞ ❝ i need you by my side. ❞ ❝ i have a plan, but it’s risky. ❞ ❝ but i couldn’t turn my back on a nation in need. ❞ ❝ PAY YOUR FUCKING TAXES! ❞ ❝ teach them how to say goodbye. ❞ ❝ the enemies i’ve made won’t have anything on me now. ❞
EXT . )a thursday night drive on sunset boulevard( because only the 9 to 5-ers go out on the weekend ) . you have been stalled at the light for five long minutes , only to make it onto the next block to be stalled on another light for five more minutes . neon lights beckoning like temptation’s crooked finger calling for you to pull over , come in , indulge in whatever it is the haloed sign is selling . you don’t stop . not until you find the sign you’ve been in search of . blinking . not much different than the rest . maybe it’s the color scheme of the neon , maybe it’s the local band on the marquee , maybe it’s the wild look of the patrons being admitted in . somehow , that particular watering hole draws you in .
INT .) warm flood lights stain the dance floor with crimson . loud rock music from the local band bleeds through the speakers , practically dripping over the dancers , causing them to look like vampires drinking it in . on your left ; a group of men sitting at a booth , some gesturing to the back of the room - all taking a peek in that direction on different occasions , making mention of their desire for either a dance or a blow job and maybe a little more. to your right ; a squad of women standing at the bar , wearing apathy like it’s in vogue - one leaning into the rest , nodding toward that same wall in the back of the room . the rest side-eyeing before simultaneously smirking in approval and a ravenous hunger to sit on that sweet face .
that’s when you realize , no one is here for the band or the specialty drinks . they all want to consume something that the club can’t provide but only harbor - THAT BOY , chilling with a pack of freaks , on the back wall with sunglasses on.
a faithful companion rendered intransigently mute, the countess watches with thinly veiled levity as drink is prepared —— moreso routine than courtesy amidst recent times. index finger delivers its incessant taunt as she waits, felonious claw offering the occasional tap against bar’s surface at her discretion. contrary to all too popular belief, intentionally harming a dear friend was not, and never would be her primary goal ; but the feline dares not share the food she toys with, will devour him whole if he attempts to flee. and she had done so at her own liberty, leaving her with the irretrievable shards of a once consolidated attachment, and little remorse to show for it.
❛ i’ve always thoroughly enjoyed the works of oscar wilde. ❜ her musings precede a delicate lapse of her drink, making no endeavour to sheathe a serpentine motive ; liz taylor knows her best of all for that quality, has rarely condemned her for it as vigorously as she does now, for good reason. ❛ not that it’s characteristic of his usual prose ——— moreso frivolous than his earlier years, wouldn’t you say ? ❜
at first, head hardly turns, ear hardly bends, at the countess’s empty attempt at conversation. while effort is wholly concentrated on avoiding the gift of satisfaction through recognition to the other (ignoranceisbliss), the overwhelming temptation to do just the opposite is too heavy, too crushing, of a weight to resist. briefly, for the span of a meager few seconds, eyes flick upwards from beneath coated lashes & rims of eyeglasses in a flurry of lavender shimmer –– if only to gauge the other’s intentions.
but momentary seconds accidentally morph into a longer - lasting, dumbfounded stare, painted brow furrowed in slight, until she catches herself &forces her gaze back to the expression of nonchalance& to the printed words on the musty, aged pages. she gives it but a breath before she retorts, speaking from behind her novel: scalding with obvious vexation, but dulled with a tone of disinterest. ❛ –––– you’re not really trying to talk literature to me right now, are you ? ❜
His head shakes as he grasps the glass in front of him, taking a hearty sip before setting it down less gracefully than she had with a thud. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the silver case that holds one lonely cigarette that’s quickly lit, the case discarded as the hand that held it moves quickly to run through his hair. He takes a hurried drag and lets his head hit the bar briefly before looking back up at the woman who has become more of a mother to him than Iris. “I just hoped that this time would be different, you know? I thought– I don’t know. I just thought it could be different with her, but apparently not. All she knows how to do is fucking hurt me.”
There’s a long, drawn out pause during which his lips part, words on the tip of his tongue, but they close, head shaking. He can’t admit that he shouldn’t stick around. He knows he’s lucky. He knows he’s special, but special doesn’t seem like enough any longer.
a lone palm is left lingering on the bar top as she takes a step back, any complacency lacing powdered features waning to a nulled chagrin. listening to donovan’s venting with a tight - lipped mouth in an effort to not interrupt becomes a mounting challenge with every new rant the boy has to offer ; even lending her ear for such situations has grown tiresome. while she does pity the fool, it’s difficult to hear out a boy who doesn’t seem to learn.
another exaggerated drag is taken on her smoke before it’s promptly ashed out in the nearest tray, lips pursed in a sure display of detachment. ❛ –– we’re all creatures of habit. did you honestly think she was going to change her ways for little ‘ole you ? ❜
