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14 van de 24 sterren behaald

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ORPG, gedichten en schrijvers < Virtual Popstar

ORPG ~ Eternal Darkness

Anoniem
Landelijke ster

Paran0id schreef:
Lang gaf het niet tot hij zijn 'vrienden' weergevonden had. In een gepasseerde tijd van hoogstens een halve minuut, kon hij al enkele afgesleten gedaantes langs de stellingen spotten. Compleet mismaakt, volhangend met bloed waarvan hij de afkomst geenszins te weten wilde komen. Het gesleur van hun voetstappen tegenover de vloeren leverde een vaag gegalm van hun bewegingen op. Elke stap meermaals laten doordringen tot zijn oren met niet meer dan een schuivend geluid van de schoenzolen tegenover het ruwe steen, maar hierbij gaf Demyan geen kik om zijn oren met ergernis te bedekken. Elke slaag die hij uitdeelde met de honkbalknuppel indien hij naar ze toe stapte, was vol kracht en tevens te geconcentreerd om aan elk ander ding toe te geven. De woede die hij reflecteerde in zijn nogal slappe lichaam zelf, bestreed voor kort het overmatige gevoel van zwakte dat in hem heerste die hele dag.
Hijgend keek hij neer op de achtergelaten lichamen. Elk veroorzaakte bloedbad in zich opgenomen met een blik van slaperigheid, doch zijn houding ergens anders op doelde. De grijns die hij rond zijn lippen liet, hoe klein het ook mocht zijn, gaf zijn spot weer tegenover de overledenen. "Sleep tight," gaf hij ietwat schor weer. Ze nog voor kort aangestaard tot hij het genoeg vond zijn geweest. Sindsdien konden alleen zijn eigen passen nog waargenomen worden in het tankstation, gaande langs de stellingen om een jerrycan te kunnen bemachtigen. De rest van de overgebleven producten werden gelaten op dezelfde plaats als waar hij ze zag liggen. Gewoonweg dingen meeslepen waren geen van zijn plannen geweest, simpelweg omdat hij er geen energie voor had om vele artikelen met zich mee te moeten dragen, en vandaar ook dat hij in een rustige vaart door het station heenliep. Gericht op het ene, rode ding achterin de hoek waar hij traag maar zeker naartoe werd geleidt. De knuppel bleef intussen futloos in zijn hand hangen. Een zucht dwaalde bij hem af, een trek van zijn sigaret in de lucht laten verdwijnen om stoom af te blazen.

LadyStardust
YouTube-ster

LadyStardust schreef:
A shiny object catched her interest however, slowly picking it up. As she held it in her hand, she started to recognize it, having seen it ple ty if times. It was Conor's. The Irish craftmanship couldn't be of any American, she was sure of it. But still something didn't seem right; how did Demyan get it? She firmly held it in her hand, as if it was of unimaginable value, wich it was to her. She found something that belonged to the last person that seemed to really love her. Her grip only got tighter, feeling anxious about losing it, since it was the last piece of any of her family members he owned. Pictures she tought she needed in the very beginning of the apocalypse, got burned by her lighter, while she watched them all go up in smoke. It was a little while after het brother got shot that she did so, no longer wanting to be reminded of the thing that hurt her so much. Why she held onto the ring that much was kind of surprising, as she would usually throw away any sort of memory of her life before the apocalypse. It had a deeper meaning it felt like, as if her brother was with her while she held the ring. The feeling seemed relaxing, calming in a way. But at the same time, it drove her insane. The thought of her brother made her feel sick, as her eyes started to burn a little. It wasn't long before the first tear ran down her cheek, leaving a trail of water behind. Why was this piece of jewelry messing with her emotions this badly? She shook her head trying to push the thoughts away, as she slipped the ring onto her thumb, since it didn't fit any of her other fingers.
In a desperate attempt to think about something else, to just focus on something that didn't almost force her to cry, she focused on the notebook in her hands. The first page was already filled with words, black ink, and a handwriting that seemed a little sloppy. The words to her were perfectly clear, as she was able to read every single thing written on the pages. A story, most likely written by Demyan himself, came to the light before her eyes. He seemed to have been forced to write it down, supposedly by his psychiatrist, who he didn't seem to really like all that much. No one really seemed to please him, as he wished them all dead, admitting he would love to be the one responsible for it. The way he described his distaste in everyone frightened her a little, yet it also fascinated her. Something about him was weirdly fun, as well as just pleasant to be around. The words made her feel as if someone understood own sick, twisted mind. Though she felt like he actually killed everyone in cold blood, and she only murdered a few people. Yet she was described by many as having a cupid's face and a devil's mind. Demyan seemed to share this trait. She shook her head for a moment, not wanting to admit he actually had quitte a nice face. No, she didn't feel that way about Demyan, right? Quickly, she focused on the pages again, looking at a glimpse of Demyan's insane mind, which she found fascinating.

Anoniem
Landelijke ster

Paran0id schreef:
Het plastic dat hij in zijn hand deed belanden door ernaar te reiken, bracht hem terug naar andere tijden. Deed hem denken aan toen hij een aantal weken geleden nog door het land reisde, opzoek naar de nieuwe locatie van the Dungeon om wederom door te gaan met zijn gevechten. Toentertijd Demyan nog vele tankstations had leeggeroofd om zo alle benzine te kunnen verschaffen die hij nodig had om zijn volgende bestemming te halen. Het bracht hem in een korte periode van dagdromen, als een van de walkers afwezig gelopen door het pand langs de stellingen. Meer dan een leegte niet te bespotten in zijn donkere ogen. Weggekeken naar wat zich dan ook voor hem bevond, alhoewel het bij elke bestaande wel overgekomen was dat wat hij aanschouwde, geenszins in hem op werd genomen om het naar een beeld te maken zoals het in de werkelijkheid wél was. In zijn oogopzicht kon hij enkel een duisternis waarnemen bij de voorwerpen die hij achter zich liet, dat zich kenbaar maakte door zijn dromerige passen met geen afwijking van zijn blik, die bij nader inzien almaar gericht was op de deur.
De kou van buiten deed hem ergens wel goed. De wind tegen zijn huid aan kunnen voelen, de koude voelen optrekken naar zijn gehele lijf om weer kippenvel toe te doen slaan van ervaren van de ijzige lucht. Het kon hem eraan herinneren dat hij nog levend was. Een mens, onverrijkt en aangedaan zoals de andere wezens dat wel waren, maar daarentegen was het geen blijdschap dat Demyan voelde bij het opmerken van zijn voortdurende bestaan op aarde. Voor hem was de duidelijkheid er allang geweest dat hij er niet hoorde, en zijn verlangens naar de dood die tevens de angst van anderen bij hem overnamen, resulteerden in een uitgeputte expressie. Zowel geestelijk als lichamelijk was hij afgemat.

LadyStardust
YouTube-ster

LadyStardust schreef:
It felt strange to read the words that were written by the Russian boy, as it almost felt as if she was invading his privacy. Yet she cared too little to put it down and away, back where she found it. She showed interest in his story, though it frightened her a little. She didn't know how much he could take before he would kill her too, altough he did tell her he'd do it a few times, but never did. The words made her feel understood as well, like somebody had the same mental struggles as her. The same thoughts that were never considered normal. It always made her feel like some sort of social outcast, but Demyan seemed to think like her. Strangely, it felt good, comforting in a way. People who knew shut her out, almost as if they wanted to build a wall around thenselves to protect them from Cassidy. She was seen as dangerous, better off left alone, yet a few people refused to treat her like that, and she was grateful for that.
The sentences formed images in her head, not of the crimes the bou may have commited, but of the corpses of her own victims. She felt no remorse, as if they didn't matter at all to her, wich they didn't. People like her dad weren't worthy of keeping their mortal body. It wasn't until a clear images of her mothers body, covered in blood, with a hole right in her forehead, that she started to feel emotion again. The small woman was defenseless against the tall man, not to mention that he had a gun. It was almost like a curse, that all of her family had to be shot, as it was the way she saw most of her family go. She blamed their shady, illegal past for that, some sailor curse. It may seem illogical to people, but it made sense in her head. No one got bitten, or died of a natural cause, they always got shot. She shook her head for a moment, trying to get the thought out of her head. She wasn't afraid, not at all, she had fully accepted her fate.
The story that was the thing that seemed to help her think about something else, no other thoughts crossed her mind from that moment. She could only focus on what was in front of her, what was the notebook. The boy didn't seem to be fond of anyone, yet she couldn't help but wonder who the man in the picture was. He looked almost identical to Demyan, but yet, she wasn't sure.

Anoniem
Landelijke ster

Paran0id schreef:
Reaching the car went as fast as the tempo that got him out of the gasstation itself. The way wasn't that hard to find, regardless the multiple freeways and crossing roads that made it seem pretty difficult to decide which one he should take. Demyan knew the route to where he left the car. He'd walked it so many times, both drunk and as sober as he could be, to forget about the details along his steps.
The nature was surely hidden behind the wreckages of several, possibly a couple hundred cars. With a few suspicious looks around the area, any other human being could've spotted his low interest in the town or what he liked to call it; the lost grounds. With a couple of stares at the woods, as he defined about ten kilometres away from his point of view, he refused to give it any attention.
Silently, he left the roads of Atlanta for the space only he had known for the past couple of days. Not much of a trail left behind, other than the cigarettes he smoked while driving 'home'. He couldn't care less about the damage or the impression he gave to the survivors in the city. The only thing that seemed to matter to the nineteen year-old, were his own thoughts who managed to get him out of the reality for quite some time. It was as if his eyes got trapped in the view, the boring, yet fascination vision of the world he now lived in. With no other creatures than the walkers themselves, the time passed slowly. It took him longer than expected to arrive at the motel, after getting new fuel for the car he and Cassidy fixed earlier today. The awareness of how long it actually has been was however a big question to him. One he didn't really cared about, since his priorities were mostly fixated on the entry and the stuff that he had to bring inside, even though it meant he had to carry Cassidy's guitar forth with him.
Exhausted, on the other hand, was a very familiar emotion he felt through his body. Every step he took was much heavier. Every inch of the floor that cracked underneath his footsteps, leaving creepy sounds to echo through the room, made it clearer. The time between that one tone and the next one got bigger within minutes. When he finally got to his 'bedroom', it wasn't such a surprise he took a deep breath immediately. His eyes closed as one of his habits came forward. He stood still, trying to get himself together so he could walk this last distance, but it was hard for him to get in. Opening the door was pretty hard too, with both of his hands full of stuff. Yet, it wasn't the reason why he completely froze after he was able to take a glimpse of the inside. It was the most hateful book in the hands of his roommate, that caught him off guard right away.
"What..," he stumbled in a bit of a rage. "How did you get that?"

LadyStardust
YouTube-ster

LadyStardust schreef:
A familiar voice made her look up in fear, as she noticed the anger in his voice. Quickly, she shut the notebook that she was still holding. Fear was soon starting to take over her body, feeling her hands starting to shake. Plenty of excuses came to her mind, in a hopeless attempt to save herself, as it was something she naturally did. Words were her main defense against most people, as well as weapons, since her own strenght wouldn't get her that far. She had scars to prove it. From the thousands of words, none were spoken, as she just stood there, quitte, looking straight at the Russian boy. She didn't know how angry he would get, or what he would do, but the thought alone was enough to frighten her. She had read his words, his own description of what he did to people he didn't like. She feared her time had come, the bitter end she tried to avoid, she had seemed to be able to pass. It felt strange, as she had faced enough people that could be the cause of her end, yet it never happened. This time, she just wasn't so sure of it. The boy she faced was crazy, just like her, and it somehow made it feel less save. No weapons seemed to be within her reach, and saying something stupid wouldn't get her much further either.
She held the notebook out to him, her shaking hand becoming more visible as the pages revealed her trembling. Her bottom lip quivered, as if she wanted to say something, but words simply refused to leave her mouth. 'I-I found it... It was underneath the ehh...' She shook her head a little, almost like she didn't quitte approve of her own words. 'I didn't mean to.' Her voice got softer, more afraid it seemed. She could feel another panic attack coming up as she tried to stop it. The task nearly seemed impossible, and she knew it, yet she was too stubborn to givee up. Her breathing got heavier, uneven, almost like she couldn't breath anymore, wich was exactly what it felt like. She placed her shaking hand around her throath, as she pressed her back against the wall behind her. Her vision got a little blurry, while she was starting to feel dizzy. As much as she tried to get over it, she simply couldn't. She felt herself loose control of her body, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Anoniem
Landelijke ster

Paran0id schreef:
"You didn't mean to? For Christ's sake, some things aren't meant to be public and you fucking know it!"
She almost managed to sound scared enough. To convince Demyan of her innocence, to make things right by handing over his old notebook that she stole from his stuff. The tremblings made it look real to him. Her frightened self, a sparkle of panic revealed in his sight. It didn't actually got to him anymore, by seeing the thing he disgusted the most, packed in her hand. In trade for his solidified behaviour; the book was taken from her without doubts. His face became as emotionless as steel while he got rid of all the stuff he carried and threw the written book on the ground as if it never had been taken out of the hiding place. He went straight for the girl, not caring about her so called mental breakdown point.
The loud noise quickly revealed the upcoming adrenaline in his system, how much of a low strength it'd be in the end. His fist aimed with anger at the stone wall behind her figure. He could feel the pain take over his knuckles, the same, known feeling of his wrist being too stiff to even let it turn once he hitted the surface with his bare hand. The other one was left freely at Cassidy's shoulder. It quickly moved onto her neck, although more than the left power in him - which wasn't that intimidating with his condition - couldn't be achieved. He just pushed her against the wall with the fire burning in his eyes, both stayed with hers to look into her eyes as long as it'd take for her to understand everything. "What did you read?" left his mouth roughly. "The story, you didn't-.." His focus to finish the sentence, soon disappeard. He was strucked with thoughts of the past. Away from his other visions, as he gazed at her with the same, furious look. The face of a man whom Demyan feared, dared to come forward in the meanwhile. The way he looked made him even more agressive, his movements and heavy breathing that linked his uncle to his image, but incredibly enough he felt his body weaken. His plans to smash every single part of this room in pieces, including Cassidy, were disturbed by his body's needs and state. Instead of giving her the punishment he felt like she deserved, he could only set a few steps back. The little amount of blood on his fists flown down his skin, the cold embraced that his feelings and the liquid brought with them. In a fase of desperately mixed tension, Demyan began to pace up and down the space. The notebook was kicked out of his way immediately. As if she wasn't there, he started to talk to himself once again. His voice mumbling on the backgroung that mirrored his physical absence in a matter of seconds. "I.. I should've burned it," he murmered through the room. "What if he's here.." A couple of times he caught himself rubbing over his face in a angry way of getting his actions together. Other times, he just used his footsteps to create a speeded up noise in order to maintain himself in his own lost terrors. The floor cracked underneath him.
"No! Get out of my head!"

LadyStardust
YouTube-ster

LadyStardust schreef:
She wanted to speak, but she couldn't. Inaudible mumbling was the only thing that came out of her quivering mouth. Breathing was a more important priority to her than explaning why she took the notebook. She felt no control over her body anymore, and all she could do was watch,while he came over to her, threw everything on the ground, and displayed his anger by hitting the wall, right next to her. If she could still move, she would've stepped away, though she couldn't. His tall figure towered over her, creating a shadow in wich she stood. He frightened her, though she would never admit it. Many traumatising things that happened before made it difficult for her not to react this way. She was shaped to fear these situations. She knew she was going to get hurt, it was simply a matter of time before it would happen.
The grip he had on het throath made breathing even more difficult, resulting in her feeling even more dizzy. Fear started to control her body, as she could make no effort to move his hand, or even try to do so. She simply accepted it, just looking at him, as tears were streaming down het face. Her weak body was being held up by the hand of the boy, as her own legs were no longer capable of carrying the weight of her own body.
As soon as he let go, her body slid down the wall, until she sat on the floor. Slowly, she pulled her legs up, while her body started to shake completely. Her breathing was just as difficult as it was when his hand was still around her neck, just his actual hand was away from her. Her fingers got tangled up in her hair, as she tried to distract her body with the pain she was creating, by pulling on her hair a little. Tears kept coming from her eyes, yet she didn't seem to care. She didn't seem to care about anything. She just sat there, shaking, crying, trying not to pass out. The world around her felt like it was fading, as if she got detached from reality. Everything Demyan yelled was no longer within het span of attention, wich was why she payed no attention to it. She no longer felt alive, she didn't feel anything. The pain from her hair wasn't even noticable to her anymore. All she wanted was to be left alone, to spent the rest of her days like this. Why did she decide to stay here? It shouldn't have surprised her that this happened.
She no longer felt as if she was in the room, but more so in a completly different space, away from him, the notebook and everything that was in the room. She started to loose any sort of feeling in het hands and feet, all the while her body only started to shake more, and her breathing anly got heavier. Feelings of either extreme heat or cold made her feel uncomfortable, as it created little streams of sweat dripping down her forehead, wich didn't take long before they nixed with her salty tears.

Anoniem
Landelijke ster

Paran0id schreef:
He could see the fear on her face. The way she made her eyes look frightened while he could feel 'em attached to his, to his body that kept on moving through the room. The tears running down her soft, tender cheeks, making them shine in the little light through the busted windows. Noise came from it, from her crying that didn't seem to stop for now. It stayed that way for a while. The sobbing of her mood within the time passed, him being left over in his own thoughts and twisted mind. The images of an event he tried to forget for over years. Her attack was mostly forgotten and he didn't care whether she choked in her own breathing or passed out. The truth was, he didn't feel anything anymore, but his own rages that burned in his chest. Unable to stop them, he got lost in a whole other world from back home.
"Я убил их..," he spoke slowly. Anxiously enough, his pupils stayed in front of him. Even though both anger and destruction got to him, the control of himself slipped away from Demyan. His body shocked gently against the walls as he raised up his legs to get as far away from Cassidy as possible. His arms surrounded them quickly, making it appear as a little child that was trapped in his imagination. Every second, he moved forward and backward, with his head shaken once he got into his memories. His skin got pale, an absent glance spotted in his eyes once again. Overwhelmed with emotions he didn't quite knew how to express, he couldn't do anything else rather than letting himself collapse on the ground.
"Я убил их.., Я убил их.." The repeatings continued full of panic. It wasn't until he dared to look at her again and met her paranoid blue ones. The sweat on her forehead was conspicuous, though with her condition he didn't feel misery for his roommate. The only thing that haunted him, was the thought of the story she could've had in her head at the very moment. The words she might have read, the information no one deserved to know about, but yet there was no inch of him that got him to the point to pick up the book. With the same distance and an icy stare, Demyan looked at the skinny girl on the other side of the bedroom. "He told me, everything was going to be fine..," left his mouth with stuttering. "He said, .. it was better that way. They'd.. everything would be all right." His hands started to get up. Taken away from his knees, he placed them both on the ground as he planned to. Just the sounds of his past didn't let him get off that easy. The voices returned, only louder than ever before. His ears were covered in seconds, his pondering returned as he scarily shook his head over and over again.

"Get away from me!"

Я убил их.. = I killed them.

LadyStardust
YouTube-ster

LadyStardust schreef:
His Russian words were impossible to ubderstand for her, leaving her confused and a little scared. Why didn't she just walk out of the room? What kept her seated on the floor? The only explaination she could find was that she just couldn't leave him behind like this, besides, would he even let her go?
Slowly, she reached for her backpack, her thin fingers wrapped around the strap, dragging it towards her. Her hands were still shaking, yet she managed to open up the back and pull out the pack of cigarettes and her lighter. She just needed something to focus on, that wasn't Demyan's anger. It frightened her in a way that also made it seem fascinating. Something about him made ot seems dangerously attractive, and she didn't know why or what. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, even while she lighted her cigarette. His dark coloured eyes suited him perfectly, and somehow, besides the fear, she couldn't look away. His words seemed frightened, not in a way that made him seem scared, rather as if he wanted to get away from it or hide it.
Her own thoughts quickly took over her mind again, giving her no time to rest. Images formed in her mind, memories were played befire her mind,making her eyes stare blankly into the room, like she saw right through everything. His behaviour reminded her of others that crossed her path before he did, bringing back memories of moments she had tried to forget. It felt so real, besides her knowing it was all fake, just an illusion her mind made up. Her paranoid eyes looked right at the wall, yet it didn't seem as if she was really looking at it. The cigarette hang loosely between her lips, as smoke left her mouth now and then. Emotions played with her, as she went from scared to sad and everything in between with just the blink of an eye. It made her feel sick, disgusted by her won behaviour that she seemed to have no control over. There was pretty much nothing that she could do about it, leaving her powerless on the floor. Like some helpless being, she just sat on the floor, her back pressed against the wall, as her legs were pulled up, her arms wrapped around them. Her shaking got worse, and more terrible memories were made visible to her. She wanted to yell, scream, tell the memories to leave her alone, but no words left her mouth, she simply couldn't. It wasn't the fear of him that made her have another one of her panic attacks, rather his reaction when he noticed she had the notebook. It felt familiar, as she had people get mad at her many times before, and most of the times it ended with her getting hurt or something. She didn't fear him the slightest bit, she was simply afraid for her own safety, and instead of fighting or running away, she just sat there. Her breathing stayed as heavy as it was minutes ago, and her shaking didn't seen to get better either. 'I'm sorry.' Was everything she could manage to say, after she fumbled a bit to get the cigarette from her mouth. Her absent eyes still stared into the distance, yet she seemed to get back to reality slowly.
Shakily and very slowly, she pushed her weakened body up from the ground, feeling as of she could pass out at any moment now, due to a lack of oxygen. Her mind seemed to tell her to go to the window, in an attempt to get some more air. Her steps were slow and shaky, all the while she held her hand against the wall, trying to let it help her stay up. Eventually, she got to the window, wich she opened, as quickly as she could. The cold night air felt good as she breathed in deeply, yet it didn't quitte do the trick, as the symptoms didn't leave her be.
As much as she wanted to just stay quitte and try to breath a little calmer, she couldn't help but feel like she had to help him first. It was her fault after all. Her hands let go of the windowsil that she was clinging on to in an attempt to stay up. Slowly but surely, she managed to walk towards the boy, somewhat listening to what he said. The pack of cigarettes, she held in her hand, as well as the lighter, both of wich she threw onto his lap, not caring wheter he wanted to smoke or not. It didn't take too long before she claimed a spot next to him, and sat down on the ground. 'Calm down, Macho... It's all gonna be okay.' She mumbled, as she looked over at him. 'I know I fucked up, but please just try to calm down.'

Anoniem
Landelijke ster

Paran0id schreef:
It was torturing him. Slowly, the physical pain started gathering around his body. His ears kept on sizzling with words, phrases he didn't even want to understand within them. It was the voice he feared the most that returned second after second, breath after breath and letter after letter. The dark tone that got to Demyan before he could even try to shut it down. By putting his hands on his ears, the volume didn't quite lower as he wanted to. It made no difference to his own state. Not until he found Cassidy next to him when he opened his eyes, once again.
Her breathing was shocking. Unhealthy for sure, a bit of panic hinted in every bit of oxygen she took, but he was more startled to see her next to him after her actions. It was as if she wasn't afraid of him anymore. As if she never broke into his private life, into his past while reading his most precious book. No, she acted completely normal. Still she seemed to be better after the window she opened up. She reminded him of his sister, the one person he hated the most next to his other 'family members', but he refused to tell her. He just simply shifted space until he there'd be about ten centimetres between them both. When she threw the cigarettes and lighter on his lap, he didn't let her see how scared he was to sit next to her. To his own surprise, his mouth was shut for the next few minutes just to light up a cigarette after her. He couldn't smoke one fast enough. He needed the smoke to feel 'okay' for this time; the bad habit wasn't one of his problems that accured to him.
"It ain't gonna be okay, blondie," he told her. In a gaze, he let his eyes fall on her, though it didn't disturb his whispering. As much as Demyan spoke to the girl a couple of centimetres away from him, it wasn't his usual and harsh voice. The only thing that linked him to his normal behavior was the fact that it sounded rough. The cigarette made his throat even worse than as it was the case already. "It'll never be." He wanted to tell her it was fine. To accept her really, weird kind of apology as normal people would do, but he couldn't. All Demyan did, was give her an icy stare and light up another cigarette. His last one was thrown on the ground immediately.
"You know what's the worst thing?" He started out of nowhere through mixed feelings. "They said everything. That son of a bitch that called himself a psychiatrist or my father, everyone else. The most messed up reasons and conclusions, yet the only thing that sticks to my mind everyday is that stupid song a classmate played in the middle of a history class one day." A smile of both pleasure and anger left his mouth. He let his left corner of his lips create a slant grin on his face, at the time he looked at Cassidy. The smoke he breathed in was blown out in little bits.

"And the song isn't even that good."

LadyStardust
YouTube-ster

LadyStardust schreef:
Everything she wanted at this point was to just get up and walk away. It'll be the solution she resorted to whrn things got out of hand. Everytime she joined a gang for a little bit, stole some stuff and then got away. She stayed out of trouble that way. Ut was the main reason behind her switching cities that often. Staying in one place too long would mean that people could spread the word of her being around. If she kept moving, she would be safe. Countless gangs she had joined, in the hopes of just getting some supplies, wich she always got. They were probably all looking for her, since she betrayed all of them. But she just wasn't an honest person. Hell, she was a liar, cold blooded. She felt no remorse or sympathy for anyone. She didn't feel bad when she got her hands on a car and just left. She took a job as an assassin, killing those who betrayed them before she did, but it never lasted long. It made her realize that she couldn't run away forever, but she was ready to accept her fate. There was no turning back at this point, and she was aware of that. It was strange for her that she was still here with Demyan. She never stuck around this long. She didn't like to be around other people, as it gave her the feeling that it took away her freedom. She'd rather spend her days alone, it made stuff easier. She could do whatever she wanted. The way she lived was stupid, and she knew it. But she was into it too deep to get out.
She coughed a bit, taking the cigarette out of her mouth for a few seconds. Once she was able to breath in some smoke again, she heard the boy next to her talk. His words certainly got through to her, and she knew he was right. Whether he meant that she fucked up, that life would never be okay, or whatever he meant, she wasn't sure. But he was right. A response was something she didn't give him. She just sat there, silently smoking her cigarette. It wasn't long until she took the cigarette from her mouth once again, just for the sake of being able to speak. 'I know.' She wasn't going to disagree with him. To her, everythibg he spoke was just the truth. She knew she fucked up, and she knew he was mad at her, if he didn't hate her yet. But she was used to it at this point. People never liked her for too long. She wasn't a likeable person. But she wasn't afraid of him. If he wanted to hurt her, than he could go ahead.
A few seconds passed before she got up, the cigarette once again between her lips. Slowly, she walked towards her backpack, all the while she listened to what he said. Not knowing how to react, she just didn't say anything to him. She took her backpack from the ground, making plans to leave him. Why would she stay after what she did, and after he showed he was mad at her. It was time for her to head to the next city. Her walking still didn't go flawless, and she was very tired. Staying here wouldn't help her out much either. He was mad at her, she didn't want to stay in Miami. Nothing kept her from leaving. She headed for the door, picking up her guitar from the ground while she kept walking.
Her footsteps stopped, als she looked over at the boy, the backpack hanging over her shoulders, and the guitar in her hand. She looked like a grunge musician, who had just lost all of her money, or was just looking for a ride to the next concert. Cassidy took no effort to notice this, or acknowledge it. She simply wanted to get out of the room. A small smile formed on her face, as she looked at him. 'I guess you don't want me around anymore.' She mumbled, before she softly laughed. It wasn't happy laughter, rather laughter targeted towards herself. It wasn't necessarily funny, she just found it stupid enough to laugh at. What she did was idiotic, and she knew she never should've read his journal. She held up her hand, as a way of saying bye to him, before she turned around, and opened the door.

'Take care.'

Anoniem
Landelijke ster

Paran0id schreef:
He didn't know what to do. Of course, he didn't. He never did. It was like his mind tried to please him with several thoughts of how to keep himself going, while nothing took place in the mean time. As if he was smart enough to find every solution to every problem he came across with, yet couldn't find that one piece he needed to convince himself to do so. The problems were being left unsolved. Not one move was made to change things, to listen to his own brain and get up. Demyan just sat there, acting if he was a child full of miserably, helplessness feelings and nothing was there to please him or to make a smile appear on his face.
The cigarette between his fingers was lifted up step by step. It took him longer than normal to raise it up, caused by a million reasons that were most likely to be his state and his overthinking. Words spread faster in his own head than the sounds he made when he actually said something. The smoke, eventually, tied him to reality. He watched it disappear into thin air and for the first time in the apocalypse, he felt his thoughts float out of his body. At that moment, nothing mattered to him. Not one thing seemed to be enough to care about. But, strangely, it was Cassidy that made Demyan care. When she packed her bags and leeped for the hotel door, it became clear he was a bit shocked. His heart rate went up once again with a sound one of the walkers might have heard if they were close enough. As Cassidy stood there, looking over her shoulder to stare at him with an awkward smile, all he could think about was how to let her stay. His breathing stopped for a second in complete agony.
"What do you mean, I don't want you around anymore..?" Knowing he messed up, he stayed quiet for a while. His uncle was banned out immediately afterwards. He swore to keep his attention to the little girl he had shared his time with, to let the visions go away for now to hold on to hér. He knew he wouldn't be able to calm down without her in his sight. She was the first one he didn't kill nor wounded when she pissed him of, but how was that possible? How could she make him care for tiny bits without him realizing how she did it or how it got so far, he really feared to be alone?
"No. Don't 'take care' me. Not now." His fingers trembled just as much as before, but this time he left the cigarette alone between his lips. It were his restless fingertips that were pressed on the floor in order to get him up. It were his feet that lead him to the girl he - no matter how unbelievably lame it sounded - quite liked and it were his arms that got wrapped around her tiny figure before she even had the chance to step out of the room. In a slow tempo, he pulled her back and pressed her against his own body with no hatred being noticeable for neither of them. A bit mixed up, he sighted, feeling his warm breath bounce off her neck, back to him. His chin left a little above her ear, his cheek rested on the left side of her head like he had never been so mad at her, that he could've killed her. Desperation filled his eyes.
"Please. Just.. Don't leave me here. Don't pretend like you've never known me, like I'm one of them.."

LadyStardust
YouTube-ster

LadyStardust schreef:
Of course she left again, why would she stay when she nessed up this much. It was her usual sollution to things. She wasn't used to staying in a certain plce this long,but for some reason, she didn't mind it as much this time. She hated that she didn't know what made her stay, and she simply didn't want to think Demyan had anything to do with it. Maybe she was just exhausted, tired of travelling all the time, never being able to settle down somewhere. It was too dangerous for her. Cassidy was never sure of the gangs knowing her location, nor did she want them to know. It could mean her death, and that was what she expected from it. It wasn't that she didn't want to stay, it was more so that she couldn't.
His voice got through to her, the moment he started to talk, and the way he spoke was agonizing to her. He seemed to really mean what he said. Why did he suddenly want her to stay, after he got this mad at her. She felt as if she didn't deserve to stay.
Before she could reach for the doorknob, she was stopped by a pair of arms that wrapped around her. She was a bit overwhelmed by his action, but made no efforts to push him away or whatsoever. Her guitar was dropped to the floor, as she just stood there, not knowing what to do. It came as a bit of a surprise, and it didn't feel like something Demyan would do. Yet, she simply didn't have the heart to do something about it, woch was new to her. As she usually didn't care about people's feelings. Slowly, she turned around, wrapping her arms around his waist. 'I- I won't.' The way she talked sounded as if she could cry at any moment now. How he did this to her was nothing less than a mystery. Why did she suddenly care, let alone not walk away like she always did, leaving him behind.

Anoniem
Landelijke ster

Paran0id schreef:
► Blood dripped from the ripped piece of paper. Gliding off his hands, leaving the red liquid to stick onto his skin with a cold touch. He could feel it sliding down, 'till it finally got to the ground and left the marks behind. The spots on the wooden floor were on the other hand not much of an interesting thing for Demyan. All that mattered was the fact it calmed him down. It were the little wounds he cut open on his knuckles when he murdered some walkers the past day, bleeding merciless. It made him feel he was still alive. Somewhere the pain reminded him of his non-deserved stay on the planet, but it also got him thinking about how to make an end to it. To bleed to death would be a peaceful way of leaving everything behind, he thought, while he roughly pressed his lips on each other. He longed for the pain that was yet to come. As if he wanted it to happen so badly, he refused to even get a bandaid to let it heal.
The thought was left alone not long afterwards. He decided it wasn't the time to give up yet, reached for the sleeve of his vest and rubbed the remaining blood away. Just to wait on that moment he could feel it streaming again, he laid his hand back on the paper. All the time, he hadn't spoken a word to Cassidy. The girl he convinced to stay one night ago. The one he impressively cared enough for to not let her walk away, but his moods shifted too quickly for him to consider why exactly those things happened. He didn't find any solution for his kind of break down point from hours ago. He didn't know whether he just didn't wanted to lose someone else, or he just wanted to test her to see if she'd stay when he asked her to. Either way, he was too confused to find the right answer. As it went through his head several times between the hours of silence, he quitted showing it. All he made clear, was his bleak, cool look that sticked to the map on the ground. Blankly, he stared at the route he had drawn on the paper this afternoon. His legs crossed and his elbows leaned on it, to sit as comfortable as possible. No one was here to see it anyway. His roommate fled to the parking lot just after the morning was over, saying she'd fix some cars. Nothing he would've stopped from happening. He thought it was for the better if she'd leave him alone. It was weird with her around now that he told her he didn't want her to leave. Demyan felt like she assumed it was his way of saying he liked her, something awkward for him. Definitely when he started drinking his vodka when he woke up. No comments were made, but he had this feeling she thought he was an alcoholic; something he definitely was, but wasn't willing to admit.

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