"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Viewing Single Post From: and you may say to yourself, "My god, what have I done?"
nope
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throw that pussy like i'm famous
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The fire was dead before Rhory hit the ground.

She was dully aware of the weight of the girl’s knees on her chest and the thin sharp line of pressure across her throat. There wasn’t any pain. There was no sensation. All she could feel were slight indentations in her husk. Her breath had been lost with the first blow and what little else was left had spilled out with it. She was dead. She had been dead since she’d grabbed Logan and let him take her bullets and looked at his face the whole time. It hadn’t saved her. It had erased her. The knife was a formality.

Rhory never had control. She had a self-destruct sequence.

It was the first good look at the girl’s face Rhory had gotten. She hadn’t noticed the bruise before. She wished she had. It was large and purple-black. Someone had left their mark. It was there in the eyes, too. Whatever Kimberly was so reluctant to say out loud was floating around in there. Someone had left a mark on her. It was almost a nice thought. Someone hanging on like that. Rhory had never had that kind of grip. Never stuck on anyone. Jackson had hated her. Ethan had used her. He’d been so sweet to her until Kurt and then he was gone. And Kurt. Kurt, who mounted her once every four days on the dot and told her he loved her. He hadn’t. She hadn’t. They were both just afraid to move on and so desperate to be fucked and wanted and important. She cried for them all. She let them all mark her up and sometimes she marked herself over them too. On them, never. Rhory never stuck on them. Rhory never meant anything to them. Rhory never left marks.

But now, she had Kimmy. She realized the idea excited her more than living did.

“Do it.”
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and you may say to yourself, "My god, what have I done?" · The Felled Forest: North