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Bloodgarden; An endless dedication... (CONTENT WARNING)
Topic Started: Dec 24 2010, 06:47 PM (11,672 Views)
Hallucinojelly
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Leila Langford continued from Aimless))

Fuck Ricky Fortino. Fuck him, and fuck that other guy. Fuck them both. Fuck them all. Fuck. Everyone.

How could she have fallen for such a shitty trick so easily? Ugh, it felt like everything was turning to shit so fast, and there was nothing she could do about it. It was like she was drowning. Drowning in shit. That was how she felt right now. So lost without her map, so guilt-ridden and haunted by those final whimpers of her best friend as she bled out onto the sand. And what could she do, really? With that awful gun and feet that felt as though they were going to pretty much fall off at any given moment, she was hopeless. A sorry excuse for a friend and an even sorrier excuse for a killer.

She was gonna take down Danya? Really? Was she high or something? Was all that missed out sleep finally catching up with her and making her think like a crazy person? Leila didn't know. She didn't have any of the answers she needed, and since everyone was apparently succumbing to the tribesman mentality this place leaked out, there was no-one she could turn to. It wasn't like she needed anybody's help, oh no, she just wanted someone to talk to. Someone she could vent out her frustration on, someone's shoulder she could cry on crush. With her hands... just... crush. Yeah. Didn't have the strength for it, but it'd be fun to try. Like a stress ball. She could just squeeze on it until she tired herself out - until she felt a little better. That was all she needed.

But who? Trent would've been ideal. The little fucker always annoyed her, so he would've been perfect. From what she remembered, his name hadn't been called out on the speakers yet - or Violet's. So they were both fine. Fine and dandy, probably using this whole thing as inspiration for their shitty little films. But they still needed a star, right? So why then hadn't they found her yet? They could pretend they were back home, dress Trent up like a mudman using the soil and twigs and whatever. It'd be fun. It was always pretty fun, she had to admit that much. Hell, she even got paid for it and watching herself and Hilary freak out and get killed by the monster was always a laugh. They even went out for drinks afterwards, or sat in and celebrated another hard week's filming with a marathon Nightmare on Elm Street session. They could do that here, she reckoned. She was pretty sure Violet had her camera with her anyway, since she saw it on the bus.

Coming to a stop somewhere in the woods, she wiped the remains of her foundation away with the back of her hand. She couldn't recall when she'd started crying, but she must've been doing so for quite some time. Her nose ran and her eyes were filled with water which was now pouring down her face. Taking solace in the fact that no-one was around to see her, she fell back against a tree which hid her partly from the cameras above. If she was going to cry, then she'd make fucking sure that no-one was going to watch. Danya wouldn't get the satisfaction, and nobody would be able to take the piss out of her for it if they couldn't see what she doing. Nobody.
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Hallucinojelly
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
((All GM-ing between Leila and Brook in this post and the ones thereafter is fully approved by myself and Ricky.))

----

Suddenly, a voice. A fucking crazy sounding one. Gasping back her tears, she snapped out of her pity-party and shakily regained her self-control. Whoever had found her was a lucky guy, 'cause the state she was in had left her in the worst position possible if they were looking for a fight. Her eyes were still damp and her throat hurt like hell, while her body shook with convulsing breaths as she tried her best to calm down. Wiping away the very last of her make-up, she turned around in the dark to try and make out who it was behind her. Her gun held tightly in her hand, she raised it up ever so slightly, so as to ward off the potential attacker.

With squinted eyes that were straining to see through the cover of the night, she just about saw the outlines of a face lurking beneath the branches of the same tree she stood against. Whoever it was sounded familiar, but they'd entered her castle without an invitation.

She gasped.

"Brook?!"

Had he been watching her cry this entire time? Using her free hand, she rubbed frantically at her eyes to clear them of any evidence. There was no way she could afford to look weak now; not in front of this little fucker.

"What're you-"

Her mind fogged - she wasn't ready for a confrontation.

"What do you want?" Her question leaking with disdain, but not enough to cover up the growing concern.

Brook grinned playfully, his face twisting into what appeared to be a bizarre look of glee. What was he so fucking happy about? She might have been crying, but she was still Leila Langford - and nobody fucks with Leila, especially when she's got your gun.

"Awww, did I catch ya at a bad time? I just... I couldn't leave a pretty girl like you crying in the middle of the woods, could I? That'd make me a bad person!"

He chuckled.

Leila's trigger-finger twitched.

Something wasn't right. The Brook she spent the day travelling with before was a far cry from whatever this was becoming. That Brook was timid, shy; everything she used to like about guys, but this one... he was weird. Like somebody had knocked his brain off balance, or flipped on his crazy switch.

Either way, Leila was growing more and more wary of him, and it was showing.

"R-right. Whatever."

No cutting remarks? Just that small little line? Okay, yeah, she admitted it now, he was freaking her out. What was wrong with him though? Why was he just... staring?

"Hnh, just like you to say something like that..."

His voice trailed off, but his body grew closer. Leila raised her gun higher as he contemplated something - was he gonna back off? -and she felt her arms start to tremble. It wasn't like she was scared or anything, 'cause she had the gun, right? Sure, he was going fucking psycho, but still - gun.

He looked up at her again, this time with thoughtful eyes, like he'd just had an idea. It didn't seem like a good one, either.

"Oooh, right, you borrowed something from me!"

Oh... fuck.

"Hee... Leila, did you... really think I would have forgotten?"

He pointed at the gun. Her gun. No, his gun. The one she stole from him. Fuck, now it was all making sense. That stupid little spit-stain must've been following her or something. And for what? This gun? There were loads of better ones out there - she'd seen a few herself. So what was his fucking problem? Why did he need this one?

"Ugh, what? This little piece of shit?"

Her voice didn't waver that time, not anymore, and she aimed it up to the level of his head. From where she was standing, she had a perfect shot at the centre of his forehead, right above the top of his nose.

"This right here?"

She dared a little grin as she gained the upper hand. This was better. Much more like it. She was in control now, and he - he was still fucking smiling. In fact, he was staring right down the barrel of the gun with nothing more than a satisfied look on his face.

"Hey, yeah, that's it!"

The trigger squeaked, but she was too slow. All too quickly he'd pinned her up against the tree, bashing her head off the trunk as she cried out in shock. As he moved, he smacked her arm against it too, and the gun which had served her so well leapt out of her hands and hit the earth below, leaving her completely at the boy's mercy.

"Ah! Fuck!! Brook?! What're you doing?!"
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Hallucinojelly
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]





snap





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Hallucinojelly
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]

Everything came to a stop.





The air fell quiet.





And then her body froze as the sound of something breaking pierced her senses.




What could it have been? Maybe someone was nearby? Someone to help her?

Strange.


It felt like she was getting warmer; a tickling heat spreading all the way up her arm. It ran through the curves in her muscles, and it leapt and crackled in her veins. The heat rose quicker and higher until it spiralled up and up, reaching out for that sweet spot right inside her head. It was unfamiliar, and it scared and bewildered her, but as it made its way to the very core of her brain, and lunged out to strike, she finally felt it - the trail of fire igniting the spark, and giving her that one lucid moment which showed her everything the world was hiding from her eyes.


"...H-hah-ha..."


And the first thing she saw...


"Haaahh-hah...ha-hah..."


Was her bleeding-

"H-ahhh-"

-broken-

"Ha-ah! Ha-ahhh-!"

-twisted-

"Hah!! A-ah! Haaaaah?!"


-arm.
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Hallucinojelly
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
What was happening? Wasn't she meant to be dead?

A minute ago she had a gun in her face, and now here she was, lying in the dirt as two people came out of nowhere and saved her life. It didn't matter if they meant to or not. It didn't matter if they were paying for it now. What really mattered, and what was most important of all, was that she was fucking alive.

After what she'd just been through, she counted herself as the luckiest bitch in the world, and though for a second there she'd almost snapped completely, the ongoing struggle had brought her back to the real world, where Brook was fucking crazy and her arm was fucking broken.

Fuck.

What was she going to do now? All she could think about was the pain; blinding, bleeding, agonising fucking pain. Everything was fucked. Everything. Everything she knew, everyone she loved, everyone she'd only known for a few seconds at the very least - all fucked. Well and truly, one hundred percent, balls to the wall, asses in the air, completely, utterly, fuck-fuck-fuckety fucked.

Her eyelids flapped away the water that got in her vision's way, and she looked around for an escape route. Shit, there were trees in every direction, nowhere was really that safe anymore, not now. Her arm was fucking useless, and her stuff was over by the world's worst threesome. There was no time, and there was no plan. Not this time. She had to run, had to live. She had to get out of there without bringing herself unwanted attention and she had to do it fast.

Twigs snapped beneath her feet as she clamoured up off the ground, but with all the screaming that girl was doing she realized she wasn't exactly top priority right now. If she wanted to run, she needed to go this very second, while they were all distracted. Brook wasn't even looking her way anymore, and that gun wasn't in the right place to cause her any harm if she even caught his eye. This was it. The last chance she had. She needed to run and she needed to do it right fucking now, while she still had the energy.

Then go, you dumb bitch! Fucking run! Now! Now!

She turned, cradling her arm as it swung with the motion carried by her body.

So much pain, but she didn't let it stop her.

There was too much to live for.

Too much to pay.

She needed to survive, and she needed keep on surviving until she'd ripped the heads off every single body that brought her here.

For everyone's sake.

For Hilary's.

For her own.



((Leila Langford continued in -.-- -.-- --..))
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