Post by brodie on Jun 14, 2019 4:56:02 GMT -5
Deadly fever, please don't ever break
Be my believer 'cause I don't self medicate
And it burns like a gin and I like it
Put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it
Hurts but I know how to hide it
Kinda like it
Bad, bad news
One of us is gonna lose
I'm the powder, you're the fuse
Just add some friction
You are my strange addiction
It was nothing but a single photograph. Just one, edges curled and browning as though it were in fact a hundred years old. Black and white by design, a classic look. Something to remember it by, you see. He was always a classic. That could be what stood out the most, made him stand apart from the others. He had allowed her to be human, in the quiet moments between; she felt… for the first time in her life, she felt something other than gnawing anger and dismal disdain, he had given her that.
And he had taken it away.
It didn’t take long for the fire to consume the small, single piece of memorabilia she had kept. A destructive force licking its way across the page, bubbling the plastic coating that gives modern photos their glossy finish. Each spot rising with heat, swelling until fit to burst and then… gone.
It wasn’t love, this isn’t the mid part of some desperately poor romantic comedy where love wins out in the end. No, what they had was transcendence, she had believed that they would always belong to one another, she had believed in him. That he could be saved, that she would do the saving and together they would burn the walls down around them.
Now, instead. Just a photograph burned.
Cooper.
The name split through her brain like a migraine, flashing lights of his idiotic grinning face blinding her from her moments of solitude. He was all he could see, consumed her waking hours and her fevered dreams. With his sycophantic head bobs and unwashed blonde hair that stuck slick to overworked muscles. The poster child for Valor pro.
The target of hatred beyond measure, for most born from jealousy but not for her. Even now as the ever present eye patch itched on her skin, she felt no jealousy, no real rage even at her eye. He had done what he had to do, what she would have done. Only one could survive that as victor and he had been the one to weasel away.
But he had taken more than an eye with him on that fall.
Unblinking she stared into the flames, she knew he was still out there. Somewhere in the vast emptiness of existence, Zachariah Krähe was taking care of a woman she had come to love like a mother. He was drinking scotch and swindling fools out of ill gained cash as she sat here, watching his face slowly melt from the paper that had once held it.
Even this, her quiet moment of goodbye had been robbed from her.
Her fingers crept around the edges of the melting photographs careful to never touch the smouldering surface, not fearing the burns but instead a lack of reaction. She wanted to feel his skin turn taught beneath her fingertips, she wanted to feel the vibration of his agonized screams as she all but ripped that shoulder from its socket in front of all his fans and loved ones.
It was too late now, there was nothing left to Save. And she was tired, of being told that she didn’t want things enough, that she wasn’t the right fit. She hadn’t come to Valor to be a poster child or a hand picked champion, she had come because it was her place. Her playground.
As the image flitted away like a distant memory and the paper, spent and burned up into ash floated away on a wind out of place for a closed window room, she nodded her head just once, for that was all that was needed. Brushing the ash into a small pail and discarding it, she flicked the light off in the hospital room. She did not glance back to think of the night he had lain in that bed.
She did not pause when alarms, shrill and loud rang out throughout the halls and orderlies in pressed white uniforms shoved and pushed their way past her. She did not so much as glance towards the fire engines that raced into the parking lot where a simple black car sat.
This was the end, there would be no more; cleanse it with fire.
And watch the world burn.
Be my believer 'cause I don't self medicate
And it burns like a gin and I like it
Put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it
Hurts but I know how to hide it
Kinda like it
Bad, bad news
One of us is gonna lose
I'm the powder, you're the fuse
Just add some friction
You are my strange addiction
It was nothing but a single photograph. Just one, edges curled and browning as though it were in fact a hundred years old. Black and white by design, a classic look. Something to remember it by, you see. He was always a classic. That could be what stood out the most, made him stand apart from the others. He had allowed her to be human, in the quiet moments between; she felt… for the first time in her life, she felt something other than gnawing anger and dismal disdain, he had given her that.
And he had taken it away.
It didn’t take long for the fire to consume the small, single piece of memorabilia she had kept. A destructive force licking its way across the page, bubbling the plastic coating that gives modern photos their glossy finish. Each spot rising with heat, swelling until fit to burst and then… gone.
It wasn’t love, this isn’t the mid part of some desperately poor romantic comedy where love wins out in the end. No, what they had was transcendence, she had believed that they would always belong to one another, she had believed in him. That he could be saved, that she would do the saving and together they would burn the walls down around them.
Now, instead. Just a photograph burned.
Cooper.
The name split through her brain like a migraine, flashing lights of his idiotic grinning face blinding her from her moments of solitude. He was all he could see, consumed her waking hours and her fevered dreams. With his sycophantic head bobs and unwashed blonde hair that stuck slick to overworked muscles. The poster child for Valor pro.
The target of hatred beyond measure, for most born from jealousy but not for her. Even now as the ever present eye patch itched on her skin, she felt no jealousy, no real rage even at her eye. He had done what he had to do, what she would have done. Only one could survive that as victor and he had been the one to weasel away.
But he had taken more than an eye with him on that fall.
Unblinking she stared into the flames, she knew he was still out there. Somewhere in the vast emptiness of existence, Zachariah Krähe was taking care of a woman she had come to love like a mother. He was drinking scotch and swindling fools out of ill gained cash as she sat here, watching his face slowly melt from the paper that had once held it.
Even this, her quiet moment of goodbye had been robbed from her.
Her fingers crept around the edges of the melting photographs careful to never touch the smouldering surface, not fearing the burns but instead a lack of reaction. She wanted to feel his skin turn taught beneath her fingertips, she wanted to feel the vibration of his agonized screams as she all but ripped that shoulder from its socket in front of all his fans and loved ones.
It was too late now, there was nothing left to Save. And she was tired, of being told that she didn’t want things enough, that she wasn’t the right fit. She hadn’t come to Valor to be a poster child or a hand picked champion, she had come because it was her place. Her playground.
As the image flitted away like a distant memory and the paper, spent and burned up into ash floated away on a wind out of place for a closed window room, she nodded her head just once, for that was all that was needed. Brushing the ash into a small pail and discarding it, she flicked the light off in the hospital room. She did not glance back to think of the night he had lain in that bed.
She did not pause when alarms, shrill and loud rang out throughout the halls and orderlies in pressed white uniforms shoved and pushed their way past her. She did not so much as glance towards the fire engines that raced into the parking lot where a simple black car sat.
This was the end, there would be no more; cleanse it with fire.
And watch the world burn.