Breaker of Mountains
rating: 0+x




October 31st






3:23 A.M.


Bismuth was leaking out of her television again.

Wasn't it funny? Wasn't it so funny? Pink. Danganronpa blood from the eyes, blood like tears, bismuth like tears, like tummyache. Like Virgin Mary weeping, cold statue bleeding.

It ached so badly. Everything. She couldn't remember when it started, it must've been recently. She'd become significantly more stressed as Halloween approached, as. Willow and her would meet up. As "two years in a row?" would come up. As… … … …

She buried her face in her sheets again. Sleep came in bursts or not at all anymore. And, in the yawning hours of the night, the only thing that came to her was her pink-stained bed. She didn't know if it was better. She couldn't stop the nightmares, so why sleep? How can you sleep?

So she didn't, if she couldn't. She turned to look over to her copy of Animal Crossing: New Leaf, idle as she waited for the island spawns to refresh. She'd logged as many game hours as she had waking hours at this point. 15 minutes of rest per hour, huh? That's a great thought. But even when your legs hurt, are you going to stop running from something?

And, oh hell was she running. Mind racing, pulse racing, static rising. Anxiety didn't approach it. She turned it over and over and over and over and God, wasn't if cold? Is it cold? What was it again? What was she turning about again? She could feel her muscles start to tremble. Her legs hurt. Her body hurt.

"Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…"

The static kept rising, but she couldn't hold it together. She'd been up for a day and a half. She could feel the edges slip away. The stains sink down. She could feel her self slippin .

g.

.

Dreaming of … ….. …….

"HhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHFUCk,"

she couldn't stop shivering, quaking, gripping the sheets with trembling hands and pulling into a ball. It kept flowing. It kept coming out, wicking the sheets pink, drowning her, static drowning her. She hated it. She hated it so much. She reached in and clenched her hands against the monitor but all she met was the thick [tears?].

"Why?" That's all she could squeak out. She let her hands unclench and simply rest against her screen, let her muscles relax. The static seemed to let up a little at this. "Why?"

And the question sat with her.

She just wanted to say it. That was what kept turning, churning in her mind. She wanted to say it out loud. To practice. To practice what that anxiety - no, that anticipation - kept bringing up, kept getting pushed down. Maybe if she could… Just…

"Willow… I'm… []- Ghk,"

… she felt something climb in her throat.

And it burned.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License