Tag: Iseeyou

…“Say it!” Grimm hisses through over saturated lips. “Say it and it will be! Say it and I will give you what you ask!”

The grimace curls upon Fenton’s brow, and he casts a fevered glance over to Sonya a she lies silent on the ground before them. With purpose he casts his gaze back to Grimm, and stands tall, puffing out his chest proudly. “You promise if I give myself, that you will let us swap places, that you will take me instead of her.”

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!” he spits with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. “I will give her back, if it means having you! For I would crack the very heavens open, to have your soul as my own!”

“Would you lie?”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said, I’d do almost anything, to get you in my hands.”

“Then how do I know that you’re not lying now?”

Grimm stares at him with wide eyes, as a sea of sweat cascade down his boney brow. “T-That’s not f-fair! You can’t trick me into saying one thing, when you want me to say another! I promise you on whatever I need to, that my deal is real! I’ll send her back, if you say it!”

“Then bring her back now and show me you can interfere with the hands of God. Show me you can do what you say, and I’ll forsake life because of it!”…

…With a callous smile Winthrop releases his grip on the rope and lets Fiona and Emmett tumble perilously to their ill-fated deaths. With a fevered glance he turns back to Claire, who stares at him with tears filled eyes. His lower lip trembles and a sea of sweat pours from his now drenched brow.

“W-W-Why?” she stammers.

“You must understand, we could not have made it with them, they were showing us down, while Amile and her private army grows ever closer to the treasures true resting place.”

“THEY WERE OUR FRIENDS, AND THE FACT YOU’RE JUSTIFYING WHAT YOU JUST DID, SHOWS YOU REALISE HOW WRONG IT FUCKING WAS. YOU SAID THIS WAS DIFFERENT! YOU SAID WE WE’RE JUST! BUT WE AREN’T, WE’RE EXACTLY THE SAME AS AMILE! WE DON’T DESERVE THE TREASURE! YOU DON’T DESERVE THE TREASURE!” she spits through over saturated lips as she clumsily raises her rifle towards Winthrop and loads the chamber. “I-I-I, I wanted to believe in you, but I always knew the devil had your heart.” she says as she squeezes the trigger, while her tears finally escape the lip of her eyelids.

Winthrop’s eyes widen and his heart skips several beats as the bullet explodes from the barrel and cuts its way through the air towards him…

…“You’re Cassandra’s son, aren’t you?” Sal slurs with a quivering smile cascading across his sweat ridden lips.

“Y-Y-You knew my mother?”

Sal laughs boisterously, slapping Simon on the shoulder with an heavy open palm. “Everyone once your mother son , EVERYONE!”

“D-D-Did you know my f-father, B-Bob Shepard?”

The smile fades quickly from his lips, and he stares coldly at Simon. “Bob Shepard is your father?”

“T-T-That’s what M-Mum t-told me.”

Sal’s lips curl, and his brow furrows deep within the cleft between his eyes. “Bob Shepard was human trash, and if you don’t mind my language, a CUNT through and through. I wouldn’t be lying if I told you nothing made me happier than the day he died.”

The blood runs from Simon’s cheeks, as he stares dumbfounded at Sal as his eyes well up with an unspent sea of tears.

“Oh dear, didn’t your dear mother tell you he was dead?”

“S-S-She n-n-never said a-a-anything a-about him, s-she only gave m-me h-his name.”

“Of course she didn’t tell you anything,” Sal says as he grips Simon’s shoulder and kneads it fiercely. “She wouldn’t tell you about that night, she wouldn’t want you to know what happened to that CUNT, and who did it. But lucky for you, I don’t care, because I’m proud we killed that piece of SHIT!”…

…“A-A-ARE YOU I-INSANE? I-I-I, I WAS A-ACQUITTED OF A-A-ANY WRONGDOINGS! I-I-I, I WAS F-FOUND INNOCENT! T-T-T-THIS ISN’T SOME KIND OF B-GRADE MOVIE DETECTIVE, THIS IS REAL LIFE, AND IN REAL L-L-LIFE YOU ARE N-NOT T-T-THE HERO!” he screams through teeth bloody and broken, as he scrambles clumsily through the snow laden forest.

“In the game of life, there is no score tally, there are no heroes or villains, you are either dead or alive!” Hannigan spits as he follows the blood trail Steven has left behind him. “So, even though you may have escaped the arm of the law for your crimes, you won’t escape mine! I’ll find you, you little CUNT, and I’ll bury you out here!”

“T-T-THIS IS RIDICULOUS! Y-YOU’VE L-L-LOST Y-YOUR SENSES! I-I-IF YOU STOP N-NOW, I’LL N-NEVER T-T-TELL ANYONE W-WHAT HA-HAPPENED TODAY! I-I, I P-PROMISE!” he cries as he tucks himself in behind a tree and takes several deep, exhausted breaths. With a hiss of his lips, he gently releases the tight grip he has on his upper arm. The world spins and his eyes widen as a sea of red vomits from the deep cut, quickly he grips it once more. He leans into the tree and sucks in breath after breath, then from the corner of his eye he spies the glowing red trail that shines its way through the crystal white show and leads directly to him. He hears the crack of firm snow beneath heavy feet, and the swooshing of something through the air, and then the pain as the axe thrusts into his chest.

“There you are, CUNT!” Hannigan says with a wide grin across his lips.…

….As the dust settles Polly releases her hold on Julian’s now silent form and stumbles awkwardly to her feet. With distracted eyes she looks out across the carnage, spying several small fires burning carelessly from place to place, while the bodies of her fellow adventures scatter the foreign landscape like candy sprinkles on a cupcake.

She lets out a hiss as she presses the back of her hand against her lips while cupping her stomach with the other, pushing her innards back inside forcefully as they try to escape through the large gash that has been torn across her abdomen.

“P-P-Polly?” a voice weakly calls out from somewhere within the rubble around her.

“BREW!” she cries out as her eyes widen with alarm while she searches the destruction with a renewed urgency, but all too quickly she feels the sloped edge of a blaster poke into her back.

“Sadly not,” Khar hisses through bloody teeth.

“I-I-It had to b-be you, didn’t i-it?”

“You told me yourself I was destined to betray the crew and get everyone killed. I’m just trying to live up to your idea of who I am, mother.” he spits with venomous rage…

…“You don’t have any real control over what’s taking place, so why don’t you just sit back and enjoy the ride like everyone else has? Fighting is so outdated and overdone in the movies these day, real life don’t have time for that kind of overdramatic symphonies!” Scooter spits through teeth clenched as a grimace dipped in the sarcastic flair of a thousand lunatics writes itself across his busted lips.

“Is that all you are, an assortment of poorly arranged catchphrases, masked to sound like some off the cuff binaural assessment of the world, shot from the hip like a mic dropping rapper! Not everyone bows before the devil, some choose a higher power!”

The grimace quivers before it explodes in a wide-bodied grin accompanied by an uncontrollable bout of laughter. “MY WORD DAVID!” he spits with volume and grit. “The WHORE who spat you out DARED to dream high and hungry for a seed that was soiled well before it grasped its first lung full of air. How charmed you must be to see the world in the rainbow of colours that your prying eyes allow. Tell me, where is your Christ now? Does he wait around the corner, ready to strike me down?”

“My lord protects me, for he loves me unconditionally! I need not beg, for his love. I need not give, for his love. His love is, as is mine.”

“Well then,” he says as he licks David’s blood from the blade of his knife. “Let us get you begging!”.…

…Duncan crouches tightly into the corner of the cupboard and gently sucks in stuttered breath after stuttered breath, while staring through the dozen or so vents that cut their way through the door frame before him and into the quiet room beyond. A scattering of random tears gently ease their way from his dry eyes, and roll down over his cheeks like an avalanche building speed before they topple off his trembling jaw, while he sucks in a unexpected wet breath that almost cascades into a wailing sob of terror. He freezes in spot as he hears it long before it appears in his line of sight, and he grips his breath tightly, holding it in like a fisherman would a prized fish who tries valiantly to escape their grasp.

“I can smell you MEAT! I can smell your disgusting clean FLESH! Come, save the terror, give in and I will make it quick, or hide as you are, and I will make your pain last forever!” he spits with twisted lips and forked tongue.

Duncan squeezes his eyes shut tightly. “P-Please m-m-my lord, s-s-save me f-f-from the d-d-damnations of the f-f-flesh. I-I-I, I am a l-l-loyal servant, b-b-bound only t-t-to serve your will,” he mutters wildly beneath his breath.

“He can’t hear you meat, but I can!”.…

…Danny drops to his knees and lets out a stuttered breath before casting a wayward glance over to where Victoria’s motionless body lies, while a sea of red grows beneath.

“She’s not going to make some kind of Machiavellian resurrection, if that’s what you’re hoping,” Sydney sneers through blackened lips.

“You have NO right!” he spits as he turns to her with overflowing emotions unchecked. “You DO NOT deserve to live! No right AT ALL!”

“Oh my GOD! Did you, the most hated man in the existence of hated men actually like her?” she asks with a grin broadly casts across her face while a wicked glimmer sparkles in her eyes.

His face twists, and his nose turns. “YOU KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT, IT’S WHY YOU KILLED HER!” he bellows as he pulls himself uneasily to his feet, gripping his side as he does, holding his stomach in place as it tries to evacuate his body through the large gash that is torn across his abdomen.

“Oh please,” she remarks with playful jest as she thrusts a boot into his crouching form, and shoves his back to the ground, which he hits in an overly dramatic manner..…

…“If I asked you what you needed, would you truly tell me something that you could not live without, or would it be a wasted need that served no real purpose?” Dulack asks with a stony gaze across the table to Keith.

“Wouldn’t it be the same regardless of either? For my want, is truly my need.”

“But is your need a want?” he asks with a high-pitched whine.

Keith touches his chest with several powerful slaps. “Is my need, not my want? Is my want, not my need? Is mine, not mine but yours? No, it is mine!” he says as he puffs out his chest and tosses his head back with an obvious blasé attitude.

“Yes, yours is unseen yours,” he says as he gently places his hands face down upon the table and lets out a stuttered breath. “When I was younger, much younger than you are now, I saw a woman awkwardly making her way through the centre of Hopes Grove, struggling to carry an assortment of parcels and baggages. All the men in the street ignored her, several even pushed her, deliberately trying to k pick her down. I had seen it happen many times before, each time, she would cuss and curse near the end without fail. Swearing on a stack of books and the seaman of a virgin that they would all suffer, that vengeance would find them. Never once, no matter how many times I saw her, never once did she acknowledge me, and nor did I ever acknowledge her, until that day. The men had knocked her down and kicked her parcels down the street like they were footballs, laughing and screaming as they did. She cried and begged, but they didn’t care, for their world was beyond her feeble pleads, and that’s when one of them sliced her across the face. As the red spilled to the cobblestone footpath, he threatened to cut her again, and that’s when our eyes locked.” he takes another stuttered breath, and gently dabs the sea of sweat that pours down his brow with ferocious intent. “The next thing I know, three of them are on the ground before me bleeding out, and the other two are running down the street screaming, but their cries were quiet ended quickly as a milk truck plowed through them coming round the blind corner of Dunalley’s Pass.” he says as he puckers his lips up, then squeezes them shut, closing his eyes in the process.

Several moments turn into minutes before Keith clears his through loudly. “And what happened?”

Dulack’s eyes shoot open and he smiles broadly. “What happened with what?”

“With the fucking bag lady and the guys you killed!”.…

…The snow sucks up the red liquid with a vigour that only a dehydrated child could show, soaking every drop until it is all but gone, and then silence returns to the frozen landscape once more.

Dullcox allows his eyes to open as weak staggered breath escapes his cold lips, while his eyes contract as his field of vision moves in and out of focus. He reaches up and grabs a branch from the one of the many sycamore trees that hide beneath the snows grip and pulls himself awkwardly to his feet. He grips his naked flesh with trembling arms and squeezes himself tightly while his eyes gaze across the white blanketed land before him in hope of spying something that will assist in his desire for some type of Machiavellian resurrection. He spins in a sudden stumbling circle, searching every inch of the world before him with fevered desperation.

“SHOW YOURSELF DEMONIC WHORE, I KNOW YOU WATCH ME FROM THE SHADOWS!” he bellows as his face screws up with passionate anger. A sea of gulls shoot up into the sky, squawking loudly as they call out to him in terrified fear. His eyes dart to the ground beneath him, and stare into the witch’s wild eyes. He sucks in a breath as she grips his legs and pull him downward, into the darkness of the place without a name.…

…“I regret many things my dear, and though some of those may seem trivial to you, they still complete the puzzle that is me. But, if it’ll make you feel better, I do freely admit that I regret allowing you to think I cared enough for you to believe I would be thinking of you whilst I was away,” he spits with a wicked grin across his lips. “But then I also regret that I killed the whore before she had finished her task.”

“W-W-W-What?” Bethany stammers through shaking lips as tears tumble down her cheeks.

“The whore in Ipswich, while I was away dear, please keep up.” he snarls with a playful wink as he dances gracefully around the room. “I’ll be the first to admit that I would not call myself a necrophiliac, but as I was almost there, I decided to finish myself inside her dead warm corpse, and I was pleasantly rewarded with the results. Have I done it again since, many times now that I have lost count, but it does not define or control who I am.”

“W-W-What?” Bethany sobs once again.

He comes to a Risky Business stylised sliding stop before her and thrusts his hand into the deep pockets of his silk jumpsuit.

“Are you unable to hear or are we having some type of communication issue?” he asks as he lowers his sunglasses to the tip of his nose and tilts his head to the side.…