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Viewing Single Post From: Nessun Dorma
Shangela
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Glitter, Whiskey, and a hefty dose of Harlotry
[ *  * ]
The sight failed to line up with Chris's head. Brianna tried to shift her stance. Steady her arm with the other hand. It still didn't line up. She arched her back. Puffing out her chest for a fleeting chance of bravery.

Her gun arm craned violently down to her side.

She could barely wait until she was out of Chris's room before she fell to her knees. She crawled away, trying to gain distance, but her arms stopped responding. She was locked into place. Condemned to wallow in her weakness on that hospital floor. She could see the mascara-marred tears flutter onto the linoleum floor. The ugly gray tears blended with the heinous filth of dirt and dust that coated the formerly sterile hospital floor. She was conscious of the camera watching her devolve into the pathetic crying mess on the floor, but she was helpless to put on a braver face.

After what seemed like hours of crying, she finally ran out of tears. When the strength returned to her, Brianna picked herself up and clumsily swayed over to an office. For the last day, she called this room "home." It did come equipped with one of the many cameras patrolling the movements of the students. It was the closest link any of them had to home now.

"Mike, I'm so sorry." Brianna stared up into the camera, fully aware that everyone would see them soon. "I can't."

No matter how much they tried to change her, Brianna couldn't do what they wanted her to do. She couldn't be who they wanted her to be.

Sorrow turned to frustration. Brianna's face twisted into anger.

"I'll never be what you're trying to make me!" The camera wasn't Mike anymore. It was those terrorists. Every single one of them that laughed behind the screen while they suffered and died. Brianna threw her gun across the office, hearing the pistol ricochet off the wall and onto the floor. The force at which the gun struck the wall made a satisfying thud. But the throw also produced another sound. A rattling.

How could she forget? Brianna reached into the pocket of her sweater, pulling out a prescription bottle. The label had faded to the point of recognition, but Brianna could recognize the contents inside. It was a little blue pill with seemingly arbitrary numbers and letters written on the side. Prozac. It seemed like such a long time ago, but Brianna remembered this pill well. After her father had lost the election, he'd felt more down that Brianna had ever seen him. He wasn't the kind, boisterous, jovial man he once was, but this sullen, husk of a man. She couldn't recognize him from his former self.

After a few months, her father had overcome that depression that crept up on him. When he felt the most hopeless, these helped him find hope again. Could that work for her? Brianna wondered as she emptied the bottle of a single blue pill.

She grabbed for a bottle from her daypack and twisted the top off. She had to place blind faith in this bottle. This blind faith was becoming more and more rare as these days went on. She could at least hope, couldn't she?
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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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