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Viewing Single Post From: Nessun Dorma
Shangela
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Glitter, Whiskey, and a hefty dose of Harlotry
[ *  * ]
((This is going to be broken up over three posts for the sake of anyone who's reading this))

The hug was unexpected. Who was this guy consoling Brianna in her darkest, deepest period of need? This wasn’t Chris Harlin, the guy who'd consistently bullied Michael Battaglia. This wasn't Chris Harlin, the caustic football jock that scored more enemies than touchdowns. This wasn't Chris Harlin, the bully that the Battaglia family cursed for a myriad of their hardships. He wasn’t who he was back home.

"T-Thank you Chris." That was all she could say as she stood, stunned in stasis. With that, Chris took his leave. Maybe he'd get some sleep tonight. But for Brianna, sleep was a fleeting concept.

Instead, she cried.

Brianna slumped her way out of the surgical room, citing too much death in the air as the catalyst for her sobbing. She tried to find her way to the offices. She needed space. She needed comfort. She needed something. Anything to stop constantly reminding her that she was here, Michael was there, and it unless she did something, it would stay that way.

"What do I do?" She moaned pathetically to no one in particular. As she slumped to her knees, face buried into the crux of her elbow, she mulled over her options in despair. She trusted Jesse and Chris sure enough. They'd kept her alive. They'd kept her going when she'd lost Matt. Lost everything. But what Jesse proposed? That was crazy. She could imagine a thousand scenarios of how their plan could play out. The longer this "game" played on, the less and less she saw them winning.

"Don't you know, Jesse? They'll blow us up if we try anything. We're fucking stuck."

There wasn't a way out. She'd seen those bodies down the hall. Three people who she'd never get to know. The girl on crutches. She was so helpless. She had probably begged for help, begged for a reprieve. But whoever had come in and ended their lives showed nothing. For the first time, Brianna could imagine what it took to become like that. Someone who'd given into such a state of despair. So divorced from their humanity. Someone pressed past their breaking point.

Someone with something to fight for?

Maybe Brianna had vilified those who played. Rightfully so, but she could understand it all now. They all had Michael's back home. Someone who they cared for more than anything. They all had parents who'd grieve for them. When she thought about it like that, how could she really blame them?

Maybe Jesse's plan would work out. Maybe one-in-a-million would happen here. But Brianna couldn't count on that. Michael would have such a life ahead, and Brianna couldn’t imagine not being there. She was his ally, his confidante. He’d shared so much with her. Without her, who would he talk about his first college play with? His first boyfriend? His first job? His family?

--------

Brianna breathed exclusively through her nose. Her mouth might disclose an anxious yelp as she did this. With ginger care, Brianna started to slither into the adjacent office. Chris was a heavy, laborious breather. If he didn't wake himself up after such deep, bestial breaths, what chance did he have of hearing Brianna's soft, devious steps.

The gun faltered in Brianna's unsteady grip. She’d held onto that pistol since the day she'd claimed it, but never thought she could actually use it. The gun aligned neatly towards Chris's ear. He wouldn't even feel it.

She stood mere feet away from Chris Harlin as he slept. He slept unsoundly. Maybe Brianna was projecting, but she could see the same worries on his face that hung on hers. He'd had family just like she did. Maybe he had a brother or sister. Definitely, he had parents. People would miss him.

But then again, Brianna would be missed. Michael would lose his confidante, his best friend, his sister. Her parents would lose their tessoro. My Little Lamb. Brianna could hear her father call her a plethora of pet names. If this was how she had to make it back home, could she do it? Jesse's plan was a certain maybe, but too unlikely. If she did this, she could at least have a shot.

A shot at seeing her father take public office after a surprise, yet universally well received public campaign. A shot at her mother finally saying it was okay that she dropped violin after all these years. A shot at seeing Michael in his first performance at The Paramount. Brianna could have all of that.

All she had to do was pull the trigger.
Edited by Shangela, Jan 28 2014, 09:48 PM.
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-Credit goes to the lovely and talented Payouni of DeviantArt
Take another drag, turn me to ashes
Ready for another lie?
Says he's gonna teach me just what fast is,
Says it's gonna be alright

NOTE:I'm always looking for helpful critique on my roleplaying. If you see something you like (or don't like) feel free to PM me. I'll only get better with the more advice you all give me~

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