spectro
dayman
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Q U A I L . C R E E K
sa | pop;3796 | usa
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Q U A I L . C R E E K
sa | pop;3796 | usa
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Realistic or Modern the colour of envy
- Thread starter spectro
- Start date
spectro
dayman
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August 21st, 2016
“No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face."
It's the first day of school. Nine days after Bernie's suicide. Her funeral was just four days ago. The whole town is still reeling. St. Ambrose has decided to have a memorial assembly, in her honour, so don't be late for school. Straight after homeroom, you will be expected in the main hall.
Goals:
- Get to school.
- Go to homeroom.
- Go to the main hall.
- Watch as people lie about Bernie in the assembly.
- Go to class.
Homeroom:
Room 22 - Mr Beaudelair
Jake, Asher, Morgan, Clover
Room 43 - Mrs Marquez
Lucian, Rich, Kirsten, Emilia
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August 21st, 2016
“No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face."
It's the first day of school. Nine days after Bernie's suicide. Her funeral was just four days ago. The whole town is still reeling. St. Ambrose has decided to have a memorial assembly, in her honour, so don't be late for school. Straight after homeroom, you will be expected in the main hall.
Goals:
- Get to school.
- Go to homeroom.
- Go to the main hall.
- Watch as people lie about Bernie in the assembly.
- Go to class.
Homeroom:
Room 22 - Mr Beaudelair
Jake, Asher, Morgan, Clover
Room 43 - Mrs Marquez
Lucian, Rich, Kirsten, Emilia
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L U C I A N . W A T T S
L U C I A N . W A T T S
For and hour and a half, Lucian had been sitting on his porch, looking out into Quail Creek. Looking out at the dirty brown leaves that had been swept onto the sidewalk. Looking out at the forests that were so thick that you could only see a few inches into them. Looking out at the puddles in the holes in the road. But most importantly, he was looking out at the graveyard, just a few houses down from where he lived. Even from where he was sitting, he could see the upturned grass and soil of where she was buried. It freaked him out, that she was so close to his home; so close to where he slept. He knew that Bernie's suicide was not fault of his own, but that didn't stop him from staying up all night, thinking about her cold body laying under the ground, the rope marks on her neck-
"Lucian, Mom made breakfast." Olivia, Lucian's sister called from behind him.
"Okay, Liv." He called back. He picked up his coffee mug from beside him and walked over his deck to the door. Inside he could hear his Mother telling Olivia off. As a thirteen year old, she assumed that she was old enough to sneak out to parties, but Lucian's Mother was not in the slightest bit happy about her behaviour. These lectures had been going on for days.
"Olivia- for the last time, drinking is bad for you!" Marie's voice was loving but stern, "You know what it did to- Oh, hi honey, do you want sunny side up?" The one tradition that Marie had to keep was eating breakfast as a family. It was a rule she had. Every morning, they had to sit for at least ten minutes, talking and simply being together. Lucian didn't mind it, but Olivia was clearly getting tired of the tradition.
"Yes please, ma." Lucian sat at the head of the table. No matter how many times he sat there, he would always remember that that had been his Dad's seat. He could never take his place. To lighten the mood a little, Lucian made small talk with his sister, asking about her new found hobbies and habits. In the usual pre-teen manner, she shrugged it off and acted as if she knew everything about the world. Lucian remembered when he was like that, but surely he wasn't that cocky.
* * *
After the three had managed to guzzle down eight pieces of toast, six sausages, three eggs and God knows how many pieces of bacon, Lucian took his plate to the sink and washed it all down with a glass of water. He secretly thanked his Mother for her breakfast. They were so filling that he would have to eat for the rest of the day. "Well, I gotta go, are you coming with me?" Lucian looked at his little sister, who was staring at her phone.
"Yeah, in a second." She didn't even lift her eyes from the infernal machine.
"Well, I'm not waiting." Lucian patted his Mother on the shoulder and picked up his bag that was slung over the back of her chair. "Bye, Mom." He kissed Marie on the cheek before making his way outside. As he opened the door, the familiar sound of rain pattering on the thin metal of the porch roof made him sigh. Turning around, he picked up his coat and threw it on, grumpily. He was getting tired of the rain. Walking back outside for a second try, he heard his sister grabbing her own coat, but he knew she'd be another five minutes. He wasn't waiting.
When he was halfway down the end of his street, he heard his sister's voice calling. She was distant, but she was a fast walker. Again, Lucian carried on, ignoring the calls of Olivia. St Ambrose High was not far from Lucian's house. A fifteen minute walk; if he was fast, and he usually was. It wasn't too awful living so close to school, but it did haunt him that even after graduation, he'd still have to walk past the place. Either way, he was just glad that he didn't have to take the bus. He hated those things.
"Thanks for waiting." Olivia whined as she finally caught up with her brother. "It's Bernie's memorial today." Olivia reminded Lucian of the awful ritual that always happened when something bad happened in Quail Creek. Which was, admittedly, rare, but still annoying.
"I know." Lucian sounded cold. It wasn't that he was necessarily sad about Bernie's death; he was as sad as you might be when you heard about long, long, long distance relative dying. He was upset, but more than anything, he was angry. Lucian had tried to snap the girl out of her stupor on numerous occasions. The last thing he wanted was to listen to a bunch of people cry about how amazing and generous and kind Bernie was, because she really wasn't all that. She was normal. She was selfish and ignorant and ambitious. Frankly, the assembly would be disrespectful because it would be a total bunch of lies.
"Okay. No need to get pissed." Olivia spoke, her other newfound talent was mild swearing. Up ahead, Lucian could see the first sign for St. Ambrose's.
* * *
The rest of the journey was quiet. Olivia had stuck her headphones in which was a clear sign saying 'do not talk to me'. When they stepped onto the school premises, they went their separate ways; Olivia to her friends and Lucian to library. That was where he waited for Asher before homeroom. Lucian needed to see if he was okay. Bernie had meant a lot to him, and over the past few days, the two hadn't seen much of each other. He knew that he was distraught on the day of her death, but mourning period is long and drawn out, he needed to be there for him, in a way that didn't reveal that he was being emotional. It was a real dilemma.
Tags: Asher Witmore @CloudyBlueDay
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CloudyBlueDay
made up of opposites
His parents weren't very stern. They didn't need to be with him; he never caused any trouble, told the truth halfway through telling a lie. But as much as they weren't stern, they weren't very understanding either. So that's why when Asher had locked himself in his room almost the entire week after Bernie's death, they hadn't bothered him. For the first days of it, he was grateful that they respected his space. Allowed him to mourn. But when it dragged on further and further, they never made an attempt to pull him out of his stupor. Well, they did try. They just gave up pretty quickly, the same way Asher gave up telling lies three words in.
"Asher, They're doing an assembly in Bernie's honor today and I think it would be best if you--"
"No."
His mother paused, startled by the way Asher had cut her off.
"Asher, I really think you should--"
"No."
"Asher, please. Bernie would--"
"Don't say her name."
Now he wasn't shouting, now his voice wasn't angry. Now he was begging. He was tired and broken and he didn't want to hear her name ever, ever again. "Asher, you're going to school."
Asher opened the door. His mother was taken aback by how terrible he looked; the dark rings under his eyes, his skin ten shades paler then it already was. He could've easily been considered one of Rich's "clients". "Why?" He deadpanned.
His mother blinked. "Because your education is important."
"Bullshit."
Now his mother's eyes widened. Asher had never swore; not once. At least, not under her roof. "Asher Jackson Witmore, you are out of line."
"That's not my name." He muttered.
If he was out of line before, he'd sprinted past it now. "Asher. Jackson. Witmore!" His mother screeched. "You will get ready for school right this instant and be out of the house in five minutes. I expect to hear back from your teachers that you were well-behaved and made no notion of this nonsense!"
He begrudgingly complied. Pulled on some clothes, assembled his backpack, all the while he could practically see the steam coming out of her mother's ears all the way in the kitchen. There was a big breakfast laid out on the table, his father's plate already wiped clean. Eggs, bacon, orange juice, everything. He looked at the plate that had clearly been meant for him, with the bacon-egg smiley face. Then he glanced at his mother, took the toast, and left.
He clambered on to the bus and took a seat farthest in the back, keeping his nose glued to the window, refusing to look at anyone or anything else. He was thankful Lucian walked to school, because he could hardly deal with any conversation with him right now. Unfortunately, Asher knew his friend would be waiting for him in the library, and Asher wasn't the type to leave his friend hanging, no matter how shitty he felt.
When he arrived at school, he could feel some eyes on him, probably for the fact of how terrible he looked. Or maybe because he was "Bernie's friend", what seemed like so long ago. When he got to the library and sat at one of the tables, a book had been left at the edge. Pride and Prejudice.
Bernie's favorite.
Holding back tears, Asher reached for the book and laid his head on it like a pillow. And then he fell asleep.
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Rinsette
pizza-connoisseur
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H O M E
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In the fragile moment of dreaming and sudden reality, sun rays leak through the blinds, slicing the room into shades of sunlight and darkness.
Formless murmurs utter from her mouth as she stirs awake, sheets and covers wrapped tightly around her; warm and inviting. All the more making her want to stay in bed for however long forever is today.
Emilia blinks her eyes a few times before unraveling from her sheets and moving herself into an upward position in the bed. It's been eight days. 8 days. Emilia counts them one by one as they disappear into a concept called time. She slung her arm around to reach her phone on her nightstand. She plucked the charger from it and squinted at the screen that was way too bright for 6 in the morning:
no slide
no slide
no slide
no slide
Normally she was excited about the first day of school. She'd be able to wear new clothes she collected over the summer, she'd get to scope out the new freshmen cheerleaders who would replace the seniors who graduated and moved onto better things.
But really, all she got was nothing. Eight days since she heard from him.
Well, barely.
It was only yesterday and today that he started to ignore her.
He's taking this so much harder than she thought he was. Emilia chewed on her bottom lip as she pulled her legs to her chest and sighed.
It wasn't your fault, Jake.
Part of her wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe that just so she could have her boyfriend back. But part of her also knew that we all played a part in this tragedy. And that weighed on her heart more than anything ever did.
With another sigh, she pulled herself out of the bed and took the little energy she had at the moment to slide out of bed and go brush her teeth and wash away her thoughts into the shower. She got out and wrapped a white towel around her body, wringing out her wet hair with her hands as she began to get ready for the day. Her whole routine took about an hour -- and while most of her family complained about how long it took her, she really needed that hour to herself. An hour to focus, to put things into perspective, to get her mind prepared for the day. Foundation. Blush. Mascara. Eyeshadow. Smile. Blow dry. Curl. Done.
By the time she had gotten out out of the bathroom, she was a different person. More confident. More smiley. More of the Emilia everyone knew and loved. She closed the door to her bathroom and dressed herself.
She could already hear her brothers' sleepy bickering when she closed the door to her bedroom.
"Christov, you take so long in the bathroom on fucking purpose." Andrei muttered angrily as the door swung open, Christov's face adorned with a smile.
"It takes time to be this beautiful." Christov ran his hands through his hair, and though he was talking to Andrei, he stared right at me.
"Shut up, Christov. And Andrei, stop cursing at him." She rolled her eyes as she pushed past them both. She made her way down their staircase, the smell of fried eggs with kolbasa and dill and blinis, or Russian pancakes, filling the house with a sweet aroma.
She walked into the kitchen to find her mother scurrying away while her dad attempted to set the table and help her along. A huge breakfast on the first day of school was seen as good luck in their house. Though they only had 30 minutes before they needed to be at school, she would still make them sit down and eat as a family before they left.
Her mother wiped her hands on her apron and smiled when she saw her daughter. "Oh, morning, kiska.. Sleep well?" She picked up the cast-iron pan and placed it on the table, along with toast and the rest of the food. She made her way over to her and gave Emilia a quick peck on the cheek.
Emilia smiled and nodded. "Good enough," she returned the kiss and made her way over to her father. "Papa," she kissed him as well. "Andrei and Christov'll be down here in a little."
"They better be!" She yelled, loud enough for them to hear upstairs.
Emilia shook her head and made her way over to the drawer, pulling it out and setting the table with forks and knives.
She could care less about the breakfast, but she knew it made her mother happy. So they all complied.
20 minutes later and they each clambered out of the door, with a full stomach and enough kisses to last a lifetime. Emilia was the last one out of the door. Her mother grabbed her arm and pulled her into a suffocatingly tight hug. "Kiska, have a good day today." Her mother's Russian accent and the constant smell of food seemed to never fade away. "It will be hard, but you will be strong."
Emilia nodded. They both knew what she meant. Emilia squirmed from her mothers death grip and waved. "I will, Mama. I'll see you later."
Andrei decided to drive them to school today since he didn't have work until 9. They were dropped off in the front of the school, with a goodbye that said "I-dont-want-to-be-seen-here."
Truth be told, neither did Emilia.
Christov and Emilia parted ways.
Usually she met up with cheer.. But first, she needed to find Jake. She needed to know he was okay. Today wouldn't be so hard with that small piece of mind. And after all, she had a promise to keep.
Normally she was excited about the first day of school. She'd be able to wear new clothes she collected over the summer, she'd get to scope out the new freshmen cheerleaders who would replace the seniors who graduated and moved onto better things.
But really, all she got was nothing. Eight days since she heard from him.
Well, barely.
It was only yesterday and today that he started to ignore her.
He's taking this so much harder than she thought he was. Emilia chewed on her bottom lip as she pulled her legs to her chest and sighed.
It wasn't your fault, Jake.
Part of her wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe that just so she could have her boyfriend back. But part of her also knew that we all played a part in this tragedy. And that weighed on her heart more than anything ever did.
With another sigh, she pulled herself out of the bed and took the little energy she had at the moment to slide out of bed and go brush her teeth and wash away her thoughts into the shower. She got out and wrapped a white towel around her body, wringing out her wet hair with her hands as she began to get ready for the day. Her whole routine took about an hour -- and while most of her family complained about how long it took her, she really needed that hour to herself. An hour to focus, to put things into perspective, to get her mind prepared for the day. Foundation. Blush. Mascara. Eyeshadow. Smile. Blow dry. Curl. Done.
By the time she had gotten out out of the bathroom, she was a different person. More confident. More smiley. More of the Emilia everyone knew and loved. She closed the door to her bathroom and dressed herself.
_________________________________________
She could already hear her brothers' sleepy bickering when she closed the door to her bedroom.
"Christov, you take so long in the bathroom on fucking purpose." Andrei muttered angrily as the door swung open, Christov's face adorned with a smile.
"It takes time to be this beautiful." Christov ran his hands through his hair, and though he was talking to Andrei, he stared right at me.
"Shut up, Christov. And Andrei, stop cursing at him." She rolled her eyes as she pushed past them both. She made her way down their staircase, the smell of fried eggs with kolbasa and dill and blinis, or Russian pancakes, filling the house with a sweet aroma.
She walked into the kitchen to find her mother scurrying away while her dad attempted to set the table and help her along. A huge breakfast on the first day of school was seen as good luck in their house. Though they only had 30 minutes before they needed to be at school, she would still make them sit down and eat as a family before they left.
Her mother wiped her hands on her apron and smiled when she saw her daughter. "Oh, morning, kiska.. Sleep well?" She picked up the cast-iron pan and placed it on the table, along with toast and the rest of the food. She made her way over to her and gave Emilia a quick peck on the cheek.
Emilia smiled and nodded. "Good enough," she returned the kiss and made her way over to her father. "Papa," she kissed him as well. "Andrei and Christov'll be down here in a little."
"They better be!" She yelled, loud enough for them to hear upstairs.
Emilia shook her head and made her way over to the drawer, pulling it out and setting the table with forks and knives.
She could care less about the breakfast, but she knew it made her mother happy. So they all complied.
20 minutes later and they each clambered out of the door, with a full stomach and enough kisses to last a lifetime. Emilia was the last one out of the door. Her mother grabbed her arm and pulled her into a suffocatingly tight hug. "Kiska, have a good day today." Her mother's Russian accent and the constant smell of food seemed to never fade away. "It will be hard, but you will be strong."
Emilia nodded. They both knew what she meant. Emilia squirmed from her mothers death grip and waved. "I will, Mama. I'll see you later."
___________________________________
Andrei decided to drive them to school today since he didn't have work until 9. They were dropped off in the front of the school, with a goodbye that said "I-dont-want-to-be-seen-here."
Truth be told, neither did Emilia.
Christov and Emilia parted ways.
Usually she met up with cheer.. But first, she needed to find Jake. She needed to know he was okay. Today wouldn't be so hard with that small piece of mind. And after all, she had a promise to keep.
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RadGalBri
story weaver
Kirsten's eyes flung open within the first couple of chimes of her alarm clock. As she reached her hand out, sleepily searching for the snooze button, she pressed it and groaned, curling back into her warm white sheets. She used her blankets to shield her eyes from the sunlight shining through her window. She wasn't ready for this day to start. Not by a long shot. She wanted to sleep the whole day and let all of her problems solve themselves, but unfortunately that's not how it works.
After a few minutes she finally woke up for good, sighing in the process. She grabbed her iPhone off of her bedside table where she left it to charge overnight and checked her notifications. A couple texts from her friends, some unimportant emails, nothing that couldn't wait until later. She opened up the weather app.
Rain, great... Just what we need to lighten the mood today.
It was the day of Bernie's memorial and honestly, she didn't know how to feel. Her emotions have been brewing for the past couple days making a nasty mixture of anger and sadness. The bad thing was she didn't feel sorry for Bernie not one little bit, but she'd never tell anyone that. Instead she was more concerned about her brother and what would happen to him. The administrators aren't really going to make him go to the assembly, right? He shouldn't have to deal with that. That would just be wrong.
The past couple of days had been nothing but a blur for Kirsten. She had barely even seen Jake around and when she did, he was so aloof and distant. She didn't know what to do to make him feel better and she was at a loss, so she gave him space. She was growing impatient though - it's been more than a week and her brother had only said a total of about ten words to her. She desperately wanted to know what he was thinking and feeling.
She snapped out of her own head and realized if she wanted to make it to school on time she better start getting ready. Again, she sighed, thinking of all that was ahead of her today. She could tell it was already putting her in a bad mood, but she swept it to the side for the moment and made herself look presentable. Cute, but comfortable and practical for the rainy day ahead.
---
Kirsten could already hear Rosa humming in the kitchen from the top of the stairs in the living room, just like always. Rosa, the family's maid, was here by 4AM every morning to start cleaning and preparing way before anyone in the house was actually awake. This had been her routine for the past fifteen years and though she grew older, she didn't have plans of leaving any time soon.
"Hi Rosa." she greeted, barely even looking at her and moving straight to the refrigerator to find some sustenance before school.
"Hola mija, how are you doing this morning? There is pineapple already cut up for you in the fridge. I know today is going to be a long day for you and your brother." Rosa replied with concern, pouring a fresh cup of coffee into a to-go thermos. She took two small scoops of sugar and added them to the strong black liquid before closing the lid, just how Kirsten liked.
"Oh, you didn't have to do that... Thank you." Kirsten attempted her best smile for the woman and took the fruit out, popping a couple slices into her mouth. Rosa pushed the coffee in front of her and beckoned her to drink. "I think I might need something a little stronger than this if I want to get through this day." she said half joking, half serious. Rosa smirked and rolled her eyes. She had always been taking care of Kirsten since she was a little girl, going above and beyond in her duties. Truthfully she has been more of a parent to her than her actual parents. She was practically a part of the family.
"You better get a move on if you're going to make it to school. Don't be late!" she warned. Kirsten nodded in agreement.
"I'm going, I'm going." She grabbed her backpack from the floor and slung it over her shoulder, taking the fruit and coffee with her. "Hey, by the way, has any mail come for me today?" she asked, suddenly anxious. Ever since she found out Yale was sending out early acceptance letters she had been on edge, making her mood even worse.
"No, nothing yet. But I'm sure it will come soon, don't even worry about it." Rosa reassured. Kirsten's face turned disappointed and she nodded once more. "I know. It just sucks waiting for it." she added before turning to leave. She waved goodbye and jumped in her Jeep, the reality of everything setting in. It was about to be an interesting day.
---
As Kirsten pulled into the school parking lot she could already tell that things weren't good. The looks that some people gave her while she entered the school were borderline terrifying. One girl even had the audacity to confront her while Kirsten wandered the halls, looking for any familiar face.
"Hey, why did you let your brother kill Bernie?!" the random girl shouted, making heads turn. Kirsten stopped in her tracks, shocked by what just actually came out of her mouth. Are you kidding me? she thought to herself. This has got to be a joke...
Instead of egging the girl on she quickly shoved pass her and hustled to homeroom. She didn't care if she was early, she just wanted to be out of this situation.
Tags: N/A
pulpfiction
can i get a fucken uhhhhhhhhh
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clover's house
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info
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tagged: Rich Osmanovik
@boyguro
location: Outside house, waiting for Rich in the driveway
mood: Vaguely pissed off
She wasn't too sure when exactly she'd woken up. Early, probably, because she knew she must have been sitting in front of her dresser for about a lifetime now, all movements languid and careful - as if the world would collapse at her feet if she did something too abruptly. This was how her mornings had gone by in the past week. Slow and molasses-like, with the sun only rising after Clover had already showered. She couldn't even remember what time she had slept. Maybe, not at all?
Clove's wet hair littered her shoulders as she sat, still as a statue, watching her face make little to no movement at all through the mirror. Then she scowled, and it almost felt like dropping a stone in a still lake. She never had been too expressive - her default face was one of boredom, and then there was a variation of facial expressions to suit her four other states of mind - Sober Clover, Drunk Clover, High Clover, and Shitfaced Clover (a sordid combination of the two). She often preferred to be the latter.
God, she needed a drink.
It had been like this when Stevie died - an almost regular hankering for intoxication and an equally irregular body clock, with the addition of the urge to punch something every time she so much as thought about anything related to Bernie and the prank. In fact, it was scarily close to when Stevie died, and she didn't even know or like Bernie. It was almost as if Clover was becoming hypersensitised to deaths, that she would freak out and cry over a complete stranger simply because sonder would have her falling at her feet and feeling empathy, of all things. And that was practically what Bernie was to her: a stranger. It was as if no matter who it was, she'd break down over the gloomy reality that everyone was going to die in the end, and goddamn it, all she could think about was what Stevie would say - probably something unecessary and snotty, like: You're getting soft, Coco, with her lips pressed into that understanding smile of hers she hated so much.
But the thing was, Clover knew the taste of mourning. Not that she could claim she was mourning Bernie, not necessarily, because it was common knowledge that Bernie was never her friend. And what right did she have to spill tears over a girl who was dead because of her? No, she really wasn't her friend. She hadn't even bothered to look at Bernie when she'd been alive, and when she had, she'd only looked at her with eyes full of distaste and condescending smiles. Looks that inflicted pain. A mouth that twisted in delight when it found horror in its victims eyes. A girl that spit venom. A girl who now mourned.
She wasn't sure if that was what she was supposed to call it though. She hadn't figured out yet if she had cried when Bernie died because Bernie killed herself and she couldn't bring herself to even remember what she was really like, or because she went through with a stupid prank to please a girl who didn't love her back, or because Clover had lost someone else to suicide before and now she was the cause of one. She didn't know, but then again tears were just tears and in the end, she didn't even want to know why tears had fallen for fear of the possibility that she might not even be feeling guilty at all, and that she might just be mourning herself instead of Bernie.
Classic Clover, she thought, someone dies and you think about yourself.
But she couldn't help it. The truth was, she was the most selfish person she knew. She hadn't really known Bernie, and like with most of her other "victims", Clover hadn't really bothered to get to know her. Why should she have? She made a generalization, like she usually did. Bernie was religious, and religious often meant hopeful, and hopeful meant naive. That was what Bernie was, and she didn't associate herself with people who didn't know any better not to fall in love with someone like Jake - Jake, who was so obviously a trap. Maybe he was the reason Clove participated in it in the first place. Alongside wanting to please Emilia, a small part of her wanted Jake to fall in love with Bernie, just so she could hit two birds with one stone. What then, though? What if he had loved Bernie and left Emilia for her? Her irrationality had clouded her judgment, and she realized a little too late that it wasn't like Emilia would have dropped her entire life - her boyfriend, her popularity, her title - just to be with Clover that way. And Jake might have been stupid, but not stupid enough to let someone like Emilia go. She knew all this and didn't do a thing about it. This was how selfish she was.
For a moment, as time stood at a standstill - Clove considered picking up her phone. Maybe she could afford another selfish moment? Emilia was obviously the only person she'd call right then and there, but as her name paved its way into her mind yet again, Clover found herself dropping the phone as soon as she touched it.
"Yikes." Clove muttered to herself as she realized what she had been so ready to do. Not that she was the kind of person who regulated the number of texts they sent someone out of sheer self consciousness - in fact, she was the kind of friend who either bombarded you with messages or left you hanging with a Seen receipt - but right now it felt too dangerously like she was doting on her best friend, and doting was the worst possible thing she could be doing right now.
Resisting the thought of sending Em something as little as a "how are you" text, Clover instead placed her hand on the handle of her dresser drawer (a compartment rarely touched by its owner for various reasons) and as its contents revealed itself, she found herself sighing in both nostalgia and resignation. The drawer was pretty much filled with things she used to use on a daily basis when she was 16 and still cared: a curling iron, a hairbrush (god knows she hasn't used that in a while), and pretty much an entire makeup set from a plethora of expensive brands most teenage girls could only dream of. Most of it was from her mother - a gift meant to rekindle her old love for fashion and makeup and whatever else Old Clover had been into before Stevie had died, and some of it was actually from Old Clover herself. She honestly didn't know why she was doing this. Maybe she was looking for approval from her mother? Give her something to be happy about on the first day of school?
Or maybe, she just wanted to have that one movie-like moment in her life where she, the super villain, gets to look drop-dead gorgeous and dramatic as hell at somebody's memorial. She didn't get to visit Bernie's funeral for various reasons, after all.
What an asshole, she could hear the small person in her mind say - someone she likes to think is her Conscience.
"Today's the day I make you proud, mom," she said rather truthfully, with sarcasm still not escaping her voice, as she reached for a brush and a tube of foundation.
? ? ?
Clover felt the most made-up she had in years. She wasn't even going to start on how the first thing to come out of her mother's mouth when she went down to eat breakfast was: "Oh honey, you look beautiful," with the most white-suburban-mother-like voice there was. Her father, on the other hand, was a little less observant, and gave her a "You look nice today," before Clover finished stuffing a sandwich in her mouth and exited the house. For a second, she almost felt like she was 16 again, or like her best friend Emilia, who unlike her had no reason to grow out of her immaculate dress-up habits. She wondered how her ride to school was going to react to her wine red lips, her moderately nice contour job, and the sleek black dress she chose solely because it hugged whatever curves she might have. Knowing Rich, he was probably going to give her shit for it and they'd have their good ol' fashion head-ache-inducing banter all the way to school, which she didn't actually mind too much.
What she did mind, though, was the fact that her ride to school was late.
no slide no slide no slide no slide
"Better come soon, Dickie."
tiny dick
pick me up
where are u asshole
???
i'll kick ur fucking head in if i dont see ur shitty car in my driveway in 5 fucking minutes
Last edited by a moderator:
spectro
dayman
[border]
J A K E . M A N N I N G
Jake jumped out of his daydream as he heard his sister's alarm clock across the hall. He had been sitting on his bed for the last two hours, just staring into space and thinking. His hair was a mess and he was still wearing his pyjamas. He felt like he was buried in a never-ending well of sadness anger and shit and he didn't know how to climb out. He didn't know what to expect from school. He knew that some people would blame him. Although the teachers could put on a brave face, the kids at school sure as hell wouldn't. If they blamed him; they wouldn't hold back. It scared him to think about what he had done to - to that girl. He had toyed with her and lead her on. Even when his head told him to stop, he couldn't. It was just a joke. A game. It was her fault. She shouldn't have taken it so seriously. No. He had killed her. He might as well have tied to rope around her neck himself. He'd done it. Jake Manning; the murderer.
When his thoughts we getting too much, he stood up and felt wetness on his cheeks. Had he been crying? Wiping away the dampness, he strolled over to his wardrobe and picked out the first few things he could find. It was important that he didn't look effected by Bernie's death. If he made sure that he looked fine and dandy; people would confront him less. If he was his same old confrontational self, no one would stand up to him. He knew that he deserved to be stood up to, but he didn't want to face his mistake. He just wished that he could wake up from this nightmare, graduate and go somewhere that no one could ever learn about his past.
After he had done his hair and put on his shoes, he went downstairs. Rosa was doing some pointless cleaning, clearly trying to keep busy. Jake crept behind her and over to the back door, hoping that she wouldn't see him - "Where do you think you're going without breakfast?" Rosa was suddenly right behind him, hands on hips.
"I'm not hungry." Jake turned around but Rosa tugged his arm back. If this was two weeks ago, Jake would have retaliated and told the woman to get off of him, but something inside of him wanted sympathy. He wanted a pat on the back. But he knew he didn't deserve it.
"Well at least take something to go," She turned around and half walked half jogged over to the fridge. She pulled out a box of fruit and pushed it into his hands, "Please, take it, your mama will have my head if you don't eat nothing." Jake smiled. He knew his Mother would have no idea if he ate nothing or not, but he was thankful that at least Rosa cared.
"Thanks." Jake took the fruit and picked up his backpack that was slung over the coat rack, by the back door. Rosa gave a sympathetic smile and watched him go.
Outside, Jake noticed that his sister's Jeep was nowhere to be seen, but his trusty old truck was sitting under the trees. For a second, he felt normal. He felt like he could just hop into his struck and pick Em up- Em. He thought about his girlfriend. He hadn't spoken to her since- well he couldn't remember. Talking wasn't something he wanted to do when he was so unstable. Besides, he felt differently about himself; about the world, and that included Em. He didn't know what to feel anymore. She had been apart of Bernie's death too. She had been cruel, too. If he blamed himself, he had to blame her to. But, in a way, it brought them closer. If she felt in anyway as much guilt as he did, maybe he'd feel better. But that was selfish.
In his truck, Jake but his bag on the passenger seat and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Em had texted him a lot. He couldn't reply. Anything he wanted to say, he had to say in person. Not that he could actually speak. He didn't know what to say or do. He was just empty.
The ride to school consisted of Jake trying to distract himself with sports radio. It worked for a minute, but the second that he pulled up onto the car park, he fell straight back into that well again. As he parked up, he looked at himself in the mirror; properly. Not just a glance. It was as if he was staring at another person. He hadn't been able to look at himself since she had died, but he had to now. He had to become familiar with the monster he had become.
Once he had given himself an internal pep talk, he got out of the truck and locked it. Immediately he notice Em standing next to the steps of the school, looking around. For him. He thought about dodging her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He needed her too.
"Em!" He shouted, he was half way across the lot, but he didn't care, he needed to see her. As he reached her, something over took him and he wrapped his arms around her in an all consuming bear hug. If she felt as shitty as he did, he wanted to make her feel better. He couldn't blame her. This was his fault. He had to make it right.
Tags: Emilia Rivendell @Rinsette
[/border]
J A K E . M A N N I N G
Jake jumped out of his daydream as he heard his sister's alarm clock across the hall. He had been sitting on his bed for the last two hours, just staring into space and thinking. His hair was a mess and he was still wearing his pyjamas. He felt like he was buried in a never-ending well of sadness anger and shit and he didn't know how to climb out. He didn't know what to expect from school. He knew that some people would blame him. Although the teachers could put on a brave face, the kids at school sure as hell wouldn't. If they blamed him; they wouldn't hold back. It scared him to think about what he had done to - to that girl. He had toyed with her and lead her on. Even when his head told him to stop, he couldn't. It was just a joke. A game. It was her fault. She shouldn't have taken it so seriously. No. He had killed her. He might as well have tied to rope around her neck himself. He'd done it. Jake Manning; the murderer.
When his thoughts we getting too much, he stood up and felt wetness on his cheeks. Had he been crying? Wiping away the dampness, he strolled over to his wardrobe and picked out the first few things he could find. It was important that he didn't look effected by Bernie's death. If he made sure that he looked fine and dandy; people would confront him less. If he was his same old confrontational self, no one would stand up to him. He knew that he deserved to be stood up to, but he didn't want to face his mistake. He just wished that he could wake up from this nightmare, graduate and go somewhere that no one could ever learn about his past.
After he had done his hair and put on his shoes, he went downstairs. Rosa was doing some pointless cleaning, clearly trying to keep busy. Jake crept behind her and over to the back door, hoping that she wouldn't see him - "Where do you think you're going without breakfast?" Rosa was suddenly right behind him, hands on hips.
"I'm not hungry." Jake turned around but Rosa tugged his arm back. If this was two weeks ago, Jake would have retaliated and told the woman to get off of him, but something inside of him wanted sympathy. He wanted a pat on the back. But he knew he didn't deserve it.
"Well at least take something to go," She turned around and half walked half jogged over to the fridge. She pulled out a box of fruit and pushed it into his hands, "Please, take it, your mama will have my head if you don't eat nothing." Jake smiled. He knew his Mother would have no idea if he ate nothing or not, but he was thankful that at least Rosa cared.
"Thanks." Jake took the fruit and picked up his backpack that was slung over the coat rack, by the back door. Rosa gave a sympathetic smile and watched him go.
Outside, Jake noticed that his sister's Jeep was nowhere to be seen, but his trusty old truck was sitting under the trees. For a second, he felt normal. He felt like he could just hop into his struck and pick Em up- Em. He thought about his girlfriend. He hadn't spoken to her since- well he couldn't remember. Talking wasn't something he wanted to do when he was so unstable. Besides, he felt differently about himself; about the world, and that included Em. He didn't know what to feel anymore. She had been apart of Bernie's death too. She had been cruel, too. If he blamed himself, he had to blame her to. But, in a way, it brought them closer. If she felt in anyway as much guilt as he did, maybe he'd feel better. But that was selfish.
In his truck, Jake but his bag on the passenger seat and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Em had texted him a lot. He couldn't reply. Anything he wanted to say, he had to say in person. Not that he could actually speak. He didn't know what to say or do. He was just empty.
The ride to school consisted of Jake trying to distract himself with sports radio. It worked for a minute, but the second that he pulled up onto the car park, he fell straight back into that well again. As he parked up, he looked at himself in the mirror; properly. Not just a glance. It was as if he was staring at another person. He hadn't been able to look at himself since she had died, but he had to now. He had to become familiar with the monster he had become.
Once he had given himself an internal pep talk, he got out of the truck and locked it. Immediately he notice Em standing next to the steps of the school, looking around. For him. He thought about dodging her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He needed her too.
"Em!" He shouted, he was half way across the lot, but he didn't care, he needed to see her. As he reached her, something over took him and he wrapped his arms around her in an all consuming bear hug. If she felt as shitty as he did, he wanted to make her feel better. He couldn't blame her. This was his fault. He had to make it right.
Tags: Emilia Rivendell @Rinsette
paranoia
Drittsekk
Morgan Hart
no slide
no slide
Around the time her alarm clock went off, s crash and a hissing cat along with some inhuman noises came from the room in which Morgan lived. The girl was no morning person; in fact, if nothing had stopped her, she would've slept all day. But her lazy mornings and endless hours of sleep was what kept her energy up once she was awake.
The previously mentioned noises were shortly cut off by a shouting voice from the attic above her room.
"Shut the fuck up, would you?" Her brother, Casimir, roared. "Some of us are still trying to sleep!"
"Oh shut up, you wimp" Morgan replied in an equal annoyance, a raspy hint lingering from her morning voice. She wasn't given a reply, but a groan and a sigh could be heard from above.
Casimir had been staying at home for the past couple of days. He refused to tell anyone the reason why, but putting the pieces together, one would come to the conclusion that his girlfriend had broken up with him. However, him staying there bothered no one but his pride.
When Morgan stood up, the first thing she saw was the beast in the mirror. It truly was hideous, you wouldn't want to meet the creature in a dark alley. The dark brown hair appeared to be a bird's nest with tangles bigger than the size of Texas. The bags under her eyes were heavy, and puffy, as if she had been beaten to a pulp the night before. Realizing this, the tiny girl frowned heavily and grunted as she hesitantly picked up the wooden hairbrush and began to untangle the chaos that was her hair.
The calendar that hung right next to her mirror had 'Bernie's Memorial' written in it with swirly, red letters. When Morgan saw this, she paused for a good five minutes and just stared blankly at the dried ink.
She had yet to grasp that Bernie was no longer here; that she was gone, forever. It still felt like the adorable brunette would walk through the hallways with that sweet little smile on her face.
"Morgan." said a voice from the door frame where one of her fathers, Gregory, stood. The second one, Gani, was nowhere in sight, apparently he had just returned from a night shift and wanted some undisturbed sleep.
The teen was so surprised by the sudden voice that she stumbled back a few steps, right into the wooden bureau by the wall. The shattering of glass was audible when a framed picture hit the ground, and a loud yelp when Morgan hit the ground.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" She yelled as she picked up the pieces of glass from her carpet.
"Language!" Gregory gasped and entered the room.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry." Morgan mumbled under her breath as she continued to clean up the mess she had made. "Man, this one was my favorite" She sighed with a frown and held up the now torn photo of her and her brother.
"Mh" Her father replied with a blank expression. You see, he wasn't the most talkative man; in fact, he rarely spoke unless he was spoken to or if he was asked to explain something.
"We're leaving in fifteen." he said, abruptly changing the subject.
"Right, I'll be done in ten."
The following ten minutes after her father had left the room was full of panic. Running around the room, searching in every corner for the clothes and the makeup that she needed to actually survive the day. A lot of cursing, yelling and banging toes in furniture occurred as well before the girl headed off to school.
The car ride was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. As said, her father hated small talk and preferred silence over anything else, which Morgan respected despite her need to talk much and loud.
Upon arrival, Morgan stopped to stare at the gates of hell for a good five minutes. She went over the idea of ditching class several times before she shrugged and walked inside with confidence in every step. As she got inside, her first act was to pull up her phone from her pocket and quickly compose a text to Rich.
'Boo, where u at???'
Tags: Rich Osmanovik @boyguro
-
Home
-
The previously mentioned noises were shortly cut off by a shouting voice from the attic above her room.
"Shut the fuck up, would you?" Her brother, Casimir, roared. "Some of us are still trying to sleep!"
"Oh shut up, you wimp" Morgan replied in an equal annoyance, a raspy hint lingering from her morning voice. She wasn't given a reply, but a groan and a sigh could be heard from above.
Casimir had been staying at home for the past couple of days. He refused to tell anyone the reason why, but putting the pieces together, one would come to the conclusion that his girlfriend had broken up with him. However, him staying there bothered no one but his pride.
When Morgan stood up, the first thing she saw was the beast in the mirror. It truly was hideous, you wouldn't want to meet the creature in a dark alley. The dark brown hair appeared to be a bird's nest with tangles bigger than the size of Texas. The bags under her eyes were heavy, and puffy, as if she had been beaten to a pulp the night before. Realizing this, the tiny girl frowned heavily and grunted as she hesitantly picked up the wooden hairbrush and began to untangle the chaos that was her hair.
The calendar that hung right next to her mirror had 'Bernie's Memorial' written in it with swirly, red letters. When Morgan saw this, she paused for a good five minutes and just stared blankly at the dried ink.
She had yet to grasp that Bernie was no longer here; that she was gone, forever. It still felt like the adorable brunette would walk through the hallways with that sweet little smile on her face.
"Morgan." said a voice from the door frame where one of her fathers, Gregory, stood. The second one, Gani, was nowhere in sight, apparently he had just returned from a night shift and wanted some undisturbed sleep.
The teen was so surprised by the sudden voice that she stumbled back a few steps, right into the wooden bureau by the wall. The shattering of glass was audible when a framed picture hit the ground, and a loud yelp when Morgan hit the ground.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" She yelled as she picked up the pieces of glass from her carpet.
"Language!" Gregory gasped and entered the room.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry." Morgan mumbled under her breath as she continued to clean up the mess she had made. "Man, this one was my favorite" She sighed with a frown and held up the now torn photo of her and her brother.
"Mh" Her father replied with a blank expression. You see, he wasn't the most talkative man; in fact, he rarely spoke unless he was spoken to or if he was asked to explain something.
"We're leaving in fifteen." he said, abruptly changing the subject.
"Right, I'll be done in ten."
The following ten minutes after her father had left the room was full of panic. Running around the room, searching in every corner for the clothes and the makeup that she needed to actually survive the day. A lot of cursing, yelling and banging toes in furniture occurred as well before the girl headed off to school.
The car ride was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. As said, her father hated small talk and preferred silence over anything else, which Morgan respected despite her need to talk much and loud.
Upon arrival, Morgan stopped to stare at the gates of hell for a good five minutes. She went over the idea of ditching class several times before she shrugged and walked inside with confidence in every step. As she got inside, her first act was to pull up her phone from her pocket and quickly compose a text to Rich.
'Boo, where u at???'
Tags: Rich Osmanovik @boyguro
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