Author Topic: 「 i’ve been making mountains out of concaves 」 — oneshot  (Read 29 times)

Offline HOPE

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「 i’ve been making mountains out of concaves 」 — oneshot
« on: February 10, 2019, 11:38:23 AM »
tw for gun violence, death, blood, grief, and murder

❝hope, i love you,❞ her mother spoke quickly, voice trembling, tears running down her angular face like the nile through the desert, ❝you've made me so proud, please keep fightin-❞

pop.

pop went the gun, echoing throughout the small room, and a pain shot through her ears. sharp and loud and deafening, the world went silent, and the pain, the searing pain through her ears, was nothing. nothing compared to the pain in her chest, like a knife in her heart, twisting and aching and killing her. she felt hot all over, and yet she felt cold and empty inside, aching and exhausted and so, so empty.

❝mom.❞ she whispered as she watched her mother, her mother's body, fall forward, slump on the ground, a river of red pouring out of her forehead, out of the back of her head. that was what it was, a river. a river, water, not the very substance that, as it leaked from her form, took her mother with it. out out out it went, pooling across the floor, and hope was shocked by the amount of it all. she hadn't realized how much blood a body contained, watching it pour endlessly out of her mother. so much blood, so much blood, so much blood.

pop went the gun, and her mothers blood, hope had realized, had covered her own body. it had sprayed all over her, painting her face and her clothes. she could taste it in her mouth, the flavor of her mothers life, like licking a penny, and suddenly the hunger she'd been feeling went away, replaced by an urge to belch all over the ground. and perhaps she might have, if she had any food left in her stomach. but it had been days since she'd eaten, instead locked up within this room with her mother, waiting for the end.

she felt empty inside. her chest was hollow, and she was certain that, right then and there, if she were to cut her chest open and look inside, it would be empty. no blood, no organs, just an empty, hollow, nothingness. she was empty, through and through, and she wasn't sure she'd ever have anything left inside of her again. she'd be empty forever, empty until she had her mother back. her mother, not a body, not an empty shell with nothing left. her mother was emptying out all over the floor, hope realized. emptying out and washing away.

she felt a hand on either one of her shoulders, she saw her father in front of her, his eyes frantically searching her own, but she didn't see him, not really. ❝hope, hope,❞ he said, he shouted, but it sounded distant and far away to her, ❝hope, baby, look at me.❞ he pleaded with her, and she could hear it in his voice, the pain and the fear and the panic, the worry that, just as he'd lost one of his closest friends, he'd lost his daughter along with her. i'm here daddy, she wanted to say, i'm in here, but she couldn't get the words out. she couldn't say anything, she couldn't move. she was paralyzed, trapped within her own body, and all she could focus on was the blood. the taste of it, the sight of it, the sheer amount of it.

❝victor!❞ she heard vaguely in the distance, her uncle shouting, a raw rage in his voice. somewhere in the corner of her eye, hope saw him and the boy struggling, fist fighting. he forced roman to the ground, pulled the gun from his hands, and by now had already beaten him half bloody. ❝victor, get hope out of here!❞ he snarled, and she knew in that moment that her uncle was about to kill him, to kill roman. he was about to kill the boy that hope thought she loved, the boy who'd snuck into her bedroom most nights to make out right under her mothers nose, the boy who'd told her forever. her and him, forever. he'd been a liar, though, he'd used her to get to her mother.

❝hope, baby, come on, stand up with me,❞ her father pleaded with her, and she felt his hands grip her shoulders tighter, calloused palms trying to pull her to her feet gently, but his hands were always a little rough. she was limp, unmoving, but when he set her form, so much smaller than his own, on her feet, she locked her knees and stood there, eyes never leaving her mother, never leaving the blood that had by now reached her feet, reached her shoes. ❝come on, lets get out of here, you don't need to see this,❞ he whispered to her, ❝you don't need to see what happens next.❞

even as he said this, hope knew what happens next. she knew what her uncle evan was going to do, and she knew she couldn't let him. she couldn't let him kill roman, she couldn't let him take the life of the boy who'd said he loved her. i love you hope, roman had mumbled one night between kisses, forever. she couldn't let him kill the boy who'd whispered those words to her.

she couldn't let him kill roman because she had to.

her father guided her towards the door, and as they drew closer to roman and evan, the younger boy pinned and bloody beneath her uncle, she made eye contact with him, with roman. he looked at her, and a part of her knew that he hadn't always lied. a part of her knew that a part of him genuinely loved her. she was looking at him, and her father saw that, so he didn't notice until too late that she'd moved a trembling hand to pull the gun from his belt, one looking the same as the one that had killed her mother, and lifted it. her mother had taught her how to use one since she was capable enough to hold it, and she aimed with expert precision even in that moment, pulling the trigger. the bullet whirred through the air, right over her uncles shoulder, and buried itself in romans head, just as he'd done to her mother.

her father and her uncle went still, and a part of her, a part of that emptiness within her, felt a little better. her mother had always told her over the years that revenge never properly satisfied you, but she had to think that was a lie, because this moment satisfied her. it didn't bring her mother back, but it did avenge her, it did help, just a little, make up for the years she'd lost. she'd never be a mother again, she'd never be a grandmother, she'd never attend hopes wedding or meet another boyfriend or tell her to make her bed again. hope had lost her best friend, her entire world, and it only felt fair that he'd lost his world too.

❝oh hope,❞ her father whispered, taking the gun from her hand gently, pulling her in to his chest and holding her there, ❝it's okay baby, it's okay.❞ he whispered, massive hands hugging her tightly, his lips pressing against the top of her head.

and she finally broke in that moment. her hands wrapped around his back, squeezing him tightly, like letting go of him would mean losing him too, and the tears began, and she let out a sob that turned into a scream. ❝she's gone daddy,❞ she sobbed, pressing her face against his chest, ❝she's gone.❞

[ words: 1385 ]

Offline 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐭

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Re: 「 i’ve been making mountains out of concaves 」 — oneshot
« Reply #1 on: February 10, 2019, 04:18:24 PM »
noooo Hope bby
↰↱
↲↳
Aim, throw your best shot right at me ———
'Cause pain, I can take it easily —————
Did you really think I'd fall to my knees ———
Just to pray for some sweet simplicity? ———
Catalyst  →  They/Them  →  21  →  Boss of the Badlands —————

Offline BEATLES

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Re: 「 i’ve been making mountains out of concaves 」 — oneshot
« Reply #2 on: February 10, 2019, 05:35:09 PM »
o shit bitch
PUNCTURED BYCYCLE, ON A HILLSIDE DESOLATE
WILL NATURE MAKE A MAN OF ME YET?
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