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Viewing Single Post From: A Solitude That Asks Nothing In Return
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personification of adhd
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Tabi hadn't moved. Clio really didn't care how scared any of them were, she was GOING to get them to listen to her. She had a gun. She could, as far as they knew, kill them. So why the hell didn't they do what she said?

There was a moment, a quiet moment, where Clio could hear the waves again. It was so quiet, so tense, that she could only see their actions, little insignificant actions, while the waves crashed like bowling pins beside her. The big Russian guy, the skater girl with him, and the guy with the annoying voice, seemed to freeze in time.

And then it all went downhill from there.

Before Clio realised it, an umbrella was spiralling in the air towards her, given a good throw in her direction from Ivan. She wasn't sure why they were doing that instead of simply dropping it, but it gave Clio an excuse...untill it reached her, and she spent that little extra time removing it from her view. Her tiny manicured hands scraped at the plastic covering in an attempt to bat it away, since it was blocking her view of the scene. The moment she managed, the umbrella now sprawled across the sandy ground to the left of her, before she could attempt to aim her gun again, he was there.

The tennis player, who was now way to close for comfort, lunged at Clio with his right arm. Robbing her of the opportunity to even blink, the punch connected with her jaw, and almost lifted Clio off the ground. Senses working in full throttle, she felt her feet momentarily free of gravity, as the pain in her jaw started to register. She could have sworn she heard something snap, and then....gravity kicked in again.

Her eyes were in a blur, and Clio could taste something in her mouth....blood. In a panic, not noticing the drama unfolding in her vicinity, Clio spat on the ground, and the sand was dyed red. Her blood.

Argh! You...you...YOU MOTHERFUCKING-

She was bleeding, her saliva now tainted with the bitter taste of her own blood. Almost throwing up at the taste, she was panicking in a heap...and then she realised they were going to get away.


Trying her best to ignore the bitterness and pain resounding in her jaw, Clio reaffirmed the grip on the gun with both hands, the pain a meaningless byproduct now, and fired in the general direction of her three new arch-enemies.






The pain atrocious, she almost screamed, the sound echoing through her vocal chords almost like a bird's screech, and she dove for her bag, lopesidedly jagged out of the sand like a torpedo, lost several moments ago when the punch lifted her. SHE WAS OUT, SHE WAS OUT, SHE WAS OUT.
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I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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A Solitude That Asks Nothing In Return · The Woods: Coastal