04-27-2018, 10:42 AM
In a sick way, she still wanted to go home. Even after everything. Even knowing it would likely mean a swift death. On the days when the ache wasn’t so forceful and the spite that had kept her going for so long wasn’t so much a hot pounding in her ears as it was a weak gasp, Georgie wondered if it would really be that tragic of an end for her. Those days, however, were few and far between.
She wanted to go home so she could see their faces. So she could make sure they knew. Everyone I’ve hurt has you to blame. You did this. And one day, maybe she would find out how. Maybe she would go home, rub their faces in the mess they made. And then I’ll die.
And then she would die. And then I’ll be forgotten. Georgie didn’t like that that made her feel...something. Ill, perhaps. She didn’t dwell on it because she devided that there was nothing to dwell on. It could be chalked up to residual emotion from who Georgie was supposed to be, not the thing that was inside of her now. That thing didn’t think like that.
The serval was sprawled across the shore looking very much like a speckled puddle. Chaos aside, vengeance aside, this was nice. She couldn’t recall the last time she had enjoyed sunbathing this much. Probably just a cat thing. Georgie’s front toe beans spread out as she stretched her arms. It would’ve been a very peaceful picture had it not been colored crimson around the edges by the split apart bodies of birds strewn wastefully about her. Colorful feathers were stuck to one another and the ground and her with gluey clots of rust red, congealing and drying in the sun.
She looked fine with this, however. Georgie looked as though she’d continue being fine even if the bodies began to start reeking.
She wanted to go home so she could see their faces. So she could make sure they knew. Everyone I’ve hurt has you to blame. You did this. And one day, maybe she would find out how. Maybe she would go home, rub their faces in the mess they made. And then I’ll die.
And then she would die. And then I’ll be forgotten. Georgie didn’t like that that made her feel...something. Ill, perhaps. She didn’t dwell on it because she devided that there was nothing to dwell on. It could be chalked up to residual emotion from who Georgie was supposed to be, not the thing that was inside of her now. That thing didn’t think like that.
The serval was sprawled across the shore looking very much like a speckled puddle. Chaos aside, vengeance aside, this was nice. She couldn’t recall the last time she had enjoyed sunbathing this much. Probably just a cat thing. Georgie’s front toe beans spread out as she stretched her arms. It would’ve been a very peaceful picture had it not been colored crimson around the edges by the split apart bodies of birds strewn wastefully about her. Colorful feathers were stuck to one another and the ground and her with gluey clots of rust red, congealing and drying in the sun.
She looked fine with this, however. Georgie looked as though she’d continue being fine even if the bodies began to start reeking.
[align=center][color=white][b]WE ALL HAVE DREAMS WE FORGET
WHEN YOU’RE ALONE, YOU’RE SO ALONE
WHEN YOU’RE ALONE, YOU’RE SO ALONE