She could only watch as he disappeared beyond her line of sight, with Pepper in almost close call, but there was nothing she could do. Her head disappeared from its looking spot, and her body shuffled along the grass until she was right as rain, smack dab in the middle of the building wall. Her lip trembled.
Well look at you now.
She had to tell herself she wasn't scared, or sad. She knew that, all her friends knew there was a predisposition between herself and the act of death, it explained so well her apathy and almost uncaring towards the dead body she saw along the riverside. She barely flinched that time her and Clover decided to watch the third Saw sequel, despite there being a man who would soon be devoid of limbs, while Clover's knees crushed her breasts from the pressure of tight enclosure at the sight of it.
Then what was it here? She saw nothing, she couldn't hear anything, yet the absence of sound or of...of anything made the whole thing so unbearable. She'd read it in a book, or maybe on a website, something said by Carl Dreyer. Sitting in a room, when suddenly there is a corpse behind the door, and everything in the scene is altered. Or it might have been Schrodingers Cat. She didn't know what had happened to the boy and the girl covered in blood, so he was still alive. Alive, or dead. He was alive and dead at the same time now.
And she didn't want to check. Because then she would see the girl, both girls, and he would be dead. She could leave, she could run into the setting sun right now, and the boy would still be alive.
So that's what she did...hours ago now.
((Cameo Conroy continues From Where You're Kneeling))
She meshed her sleeves together as the wind picked up again. Fat lot of help it was, the clothing she wore wasn't really helpful for the cold. How could this place get so cold anyway? It blistered hot during the day and then turned colder than a witches tit in an iron cast bra when the sun went down. It didn't seem right. Maybe it was just because her only exposure to a place like this was a movie she was when she was little - The Quick and the Dead, it was called. No-one could really predict what the weather was like in a place like this though. There was something she read in a book once. It was poetic, so the factuality of it was dubious at best.
Cameo shuffled a bit in place on the bench. She'd taken the best one right in the centre of the platform, watching non-existent trains go by.
She was waiting for him here, like she said she would.
She was hoping he hadn't changed.
A Perfect Day
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Jadedflames*
- Posts: 71
- Joined: Tue Aug 21, 2018 4:19 am
((Simon Mattheson continued from The Good, The Bad, and the Ohmigodwhatthefuck))
Simon had been pulling splinters for the better part of an hour, trekking into what seemed like the endless desert. Once he had found the railroad tracks, he had followed them, moving towards the train station. A cold wind blew from behind him, a sharp contrast to the earlier heat, making the shredded, stained rag that passed for his shirt flap in the wind.
You have done so much for her, Simon.
How could she care for a murderer, Simon?
Fear.
No. No, she would be there, waiting for them. They would meet, and it would be perfect. She would understand exactly why he was doing what he was. It was necessary.
Doubt.
Could anyone love a killer like you, Simon?
Of course she will, Simon. You two have a connection. You felt it, remember?
Like Romeo and Juliet?
Yes. A connection.
Romeo and Juliet both died.
Shut up.
Fear.
Shut Up!
He shook his head, frowning. Simon took a drink of water an peered off into the distance. A dim building made itself obvious in the glimmer of the rapidly setting sun. He paused to drink from his canteen, before moving forward, towards the figure he could faintly see, waiting patiently on the bench, wraith-like, for a train that would never come.
Simon had been pulling splinters for the better part of an hour, trekking into what seemed like the endless desert. Once he had found the railroad tracks, he had followed them, moving towards the train station. A cold wind blew from behind him, a sharp contrast to the earlier heat, making the shredded, stained rag that passed for his shirt flap in the wind.
You have done so much for her, Simon.
How could she care for a murderer, Simon?
Fear.
No. No, she would be there, waiting for them. They would meet, and it would be perfect. She would understand exactly why he was doing what he was. It was necessary.
Doubt.
Could anyone love a killer like you, Simon?
Of course she will, Simon. You two have a connection. You felt it, remember?
Like Romeo and Juliet?
Yes. A connection.
Romeo and Juliet both died.
Shut up.
Fear.
Shut Up!
He shook his head, frowning. Simon took a drink of water an peered off into the distance. A dim building made itself obvious in the glimmer of the rapidly setting sun. He paused to drink from his canteen, before moving forward, towards the figure he could faintly see, waiting patiently on the bench, wraith-like, for a train that would never come.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Jadedflames. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Cameo wasn't sure how long the wind blew for. It was getting cold, colder than she'd ever experienced, and she was once locked outside in a snowstorm. Nothing new to her, at least that night, since Damian was expecting she'd do something ridiculous. But stories of the past right now were neither here nor there. The wind brought something with them.
A figure stood in the distance, walking along the tracks as though he had a wish to become roadkill under its wheels. He wasn't rushing anything, just walking calmly. She watched as the closer he got, the better she remembered why she was here.
She'd made a promise to a boy on the etchings of a bedside table. Cameo risked the cold and the heat and the students she had yet to encounter for the chance of meeting back up with them again. It felt polite, and moreover he was all she had right now. Or at least he was all she had when she made that promise to herself.
Cameo lifted herself from the bench and moved to the edge of the platform, where she could see him better, and he could see her now. There was something about the sight of a girl waiting for a boy in a train station that she couldn't just shake what it symbolised. It was the Wild West that was making her think poetically.
Of course, she was ripped out of her musings as she stood there not minutes later as a voice appeared from nowhere.
Her teeth clenched. It was him, the voice she'd heard on the train. The only voice she'd heard in clear ever since she'd left for this trip. There were muffles, and there was Simon. And then there was this guy. The names he was vomiting out of seemingly an invisible speaker, especially the first three, were familiar. It's not like she knew them.
But she knew the fourth one.
"Simon Leroy was done in by Simon Mattheson."
Woah.
It stung the air like an insult. Simon Mattheson.
And then again.
"Simon Mattheson caused some further damage when he attacked a group. He shot Kenneth Danielson-"
And again.
"-and Warren Davies-"
And again.
"-and somehow Ramona Shirley got blown up in there."
Names, all meaningless meaningless names, but no, they weren't meaningless to her anymore. The only time her classmates names meant something to her, and it was because the shy little boy she'd met on the first day was now responsible for four of them dying.
But you couldn't tell by her faces the punches she'd been rolling with. No matter how many times the man on the speakers, or megaphone, or however he was communicating with all of them, said the name of someone dead, she did not flicker from her mask of stoicism. Not one gasp of shock, or simple widening of the mouth or flaring of the nostrils.
She did do one thing though - boots adorned with chains stomped forward quietly and descended themselves from the platform, as Cameo sat herself by the gap between the silent locomotive and the platform's edge. Her eyes never wandered or teared, she simply...stared at the train.
Because finding out that Simon Mattheson was responsible for the deaths of four people was a lot of information to get in thirty seconds, and not one single human being on planet earth would fault even the dourest of goth girls if she was to just sit down and deal with it on her own.
A figure stood in the distance, walking along the tracks as though he had a wish to become roadkill under its wheels. He wasn't rushing anything, just walking calmly. She watched as the closer he got, the better she remembered why she was here.
She'd made a promise to a boy on the etchings of a bedside table. Cameo risked the cold and the heat and the students she had yet to encounter for the chance of meeting back up with them again. It felt polite, and moreover he was all she had right now. Or at least he was all she had when she made that promise to herself.
Cameo lifted herself from the bench and moved to the edge of the platform, where she could see him better, and he could see her now. There was something about the sight of a girl waiting for a boy in a train station that she couldn't just shake what it symbolised. It was the Wild West that was making her think poetically.
Of course, she was ripped out of her musings as she stood there not minutes later as a voice appeared from nowhere.
Her teeth clenched. It was him, the voice she'd heard on the train. The only voice she'd heard in clear ever since she'd left for this trip. There were muffles, and there was Simon. And then there was this guy. The names he was vomiting out of seemingly an invisible speaker, especially the first three, were familiar. It's not like she knew them.
But she knew the fourth one.
"Simon Leroy was done in by Simon Mattheson."
Woah.
It stung the air like an insult. Simon Mattheson.
And then again.
"Simon Mattheson caused some further damage when he attacked a group. He shot Kenneth Danielson-"
And again.
"-and Warren Davies-"
And again.
"-and somehow Ramona Shirley got blown up in there."
Names, all meaningless meaningless names, but no, they weren't meaningless to her anymore. The only time her classmates names meant something to her, and it was because the shy little boy she'd met on the first day was now responsible for four of them dying.
But you couldn't tell by her faces the punches she'd been rolling with. No matter how many times the man on the speakers, or megaphone, or however he was communicating with all of them, said the name of someone dead, she did not flicker from her mask of stoicism. Not one gasp of shock, or simple widening of the mouth or flaring of the nostrils.
She did do one thing though - boots adorned with chains stomped forward quietly and descended themselves from the platform, as Cameo sat herself by the gap between the silent locomotive and the platform's edge. Her eyes never wandered or teared, she simply...stared at the train.
Because finding out that Simon Mattheson was responsible for the deaths of four people was a lot of information to get in thirty seconds, and not one single human being on planet earth would fault even the dourest of goth girls if she was to just sit down and deal with it on her own.
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Jadedflames*
- Posts: 71
- Joined: Tue Aug 21, 2018 4:19 am
The cold wind blew Simon's hair as the sun sank behind his back. He took step after step along the old planks of that railroad, moving towards the train.
"Howdy ya'll. This is the Sherriff."
Simon stiffened. The voice echoed across the desert, seeming to come from everywhere at once. The voice took great pleasure in reading off the names of the dead. The ones he had killed.
You have done well Simon. And she heard that. She knows now how you have been protecting her.
All she knows now if that you are a murderer Simon. If she did not know before, she knows now.
Fear.
Simon stopped, looking at his foot, balanced precariously on a broken railway tie.
She will know why you did it.
She will hate you for it.
Panic.
He tried to move forward. Why couldn't he move forward?
She will thank you for it.
She will be disgusted. Repulsed.
Anguish.
His hands trembled, nearly dropping his rifle.
You are a savior.
You are a demon.
Hatred.
He forced his foot forward, trying to ignore them.
She will love you, Simon.
She'll wish you were dead.
Run.
This is perfect, Simon.
This is sick, Simon.
Run.
Go to her Simon.
If you care for her, leave her, Simon.
Run.
She's waiting for you, Simon.
She's waiting for who you were, Simon.
Run.
You can't go back, Simon. You have to move forward.
It's not too late.
Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun.
A tear rolled down Simon's face. He felt it drop off of his face, followed by another. He looked down, catching the tears in his hands, watching as they silently flowed through his fingertips.
No. There was no going back. Only forward. He put one foot in front of another.
Walked forward.
Cameo was sitting on the platform, staring at the train. Her expression did not betray anything. He walked timidly up the platform steps, dropping his bag and his gun on a bench. Moving over to where she was, he sat down next to her, leaving several feet of space between the two bodies on the darkened platform.
"Howdy ya'll. This is the Sherriff."
Simon stiffened. The voice echoed across the desert, seeming to come from everywhere at once. The voice took great pleasure in reading off the names of the dead. The ones he had killed.
You have done well Simon. And she heard that. She knows now how you have been protecting her.
All she knows now if that you are a murderer Simon. If she did not know before, she knows now.
Fear.
Simon stopped, looking at his foot, balanced precariously on a broken railway tie.
She will know why you did it.
She will hate you for it.
Panic.
He tried to move forward. Why couldn't he move forward?
She will thank you for it.
She will be disgusted. Repulsed.
Anguish.
His hands trembled, nearly dropping his rifle.
You are a savior.
You are a demon.
Hatred.
He forced his foot forward, trying to ignore them.
She will love you, Simon.
She'll wish you were dead.
Run.
This is perfect, Simon.
This is sick, Simon.
Run.
Go to her Simon.
If you care for her, leave her, Simon.
Run.
She's waiting for you, Simon.
She's waiting for who you were, Simon.
Run.
You can't go back, Simon. You have to move forward.
It's not too late.
Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun.
A tear rolled down Simon's face. He felt it drop off of his face, followed by another. He looked down, catching the tears in his hands, watching as they silently flowed through his fingertips.
No. There was no going back. Only forward. He put one foot in front of another.
Walked forward.
Cameo was sitting on the platform, staring at the train. Her expression did not betray anything. He walked timidly up the platform steps, dropping his bag and his gun on a bench. Moving over to where she was, he sat down next to her, leaving several feet of space between the two bodies on the darkened platform.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Jadedflames. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
He was sitting right there. Simon simply sat his ass on the platform not a few feet away from her, as though this were High School and he was a nervous boy asking the pretty girl out. Considering how much High School was horrific to both of them, this was simply a pointless analogy.
And the funny thing was, he didn't even try to break the silence. He just...sat there, like everything was fine, this whole place was hunky-dory, and they were just two friends who hadn't met under these horrific circumstances. Not like she'd seen things that would turn any normal girl into a sobbing blithering mess, and he had done things that not even God would forgive. No, it was all just normal right now.
She didn't know why the fuck he was keeping up this mirage. Did he really think it was just going to be the same mutual feelings they had back at the cabin half a day ago? She was going to communicate silently with him, he was going to communicate silently with her, and they would share some sort of mutual bond because she was too nice to him to taunt him with the fact that she could speak and he couldn't.
The contrary was evident by what came out of her mouth right then and there.
"So are you just going to sit there, or are you going to tell me why your name was up there?"
And the funny thing was, he didn't even try to break the silence. He just...sat there, like everything was fine, this whole place was hunky-dory, and they were just two friends who hadn't met under these horrific circumstances. Not like she'd seen things that would turn any normal girl into a sobbing blithering mess, and he had done things that not even God would forgive. No, it was all just normal right now.
She didn't know why the fuck he was keeping up this mirage. Did he really think it was just going to be the same mutual feelings they had back at the cabin half a day ago? She was going to communicate silently with him, he was going to communicate silently with her, and they would share some sort of mutual bond because she was too nice to him to taunt him with the fact that she could speak and he couldn't.
The contrary was evident by what came out of her mouth right then and there.
"So are you just going to sit there, or are you going to tell me why your name was up there?"
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Jadedflames*
- Posts: 71
- Joined: Tue Aug 21, 2018 4:19 am
Well, you see, Cameo. I went on a blind killing spree because I thought it would make you love me. What do you think of that?
Shut up.
Tell her, Simon. She will understand.
But she doesn't act like she understands.
Fear.
She will understand, Simon.
Yes. Tell her that you killed those people because you judged them. That you appointed yourelf the new sheriff. You have taken over where that voice left off. That you still wear that Sheriff badge because it makes you feel more justified protecting her through murder.
That's not what I have done.
Isn't it, though?
No. No. I am protecting her. I'm not wrong.
Doesn't make it any less true.
Ignore it, Simon. You are right. You should tell her.
Yes. Yes. She will understand. Tell her carefully. Artfully.
He picked up a pile of sand and smoothed it on the ground between them. he traced the words with his fingertips. It had to be done.
Shut up.
Tell her, Simon. She will understand.
But she doesn't act like she understands.
Fear.
She will understand, Simon.
Yes. Tell her that you killed those people because you judged them. That you appointed yourelf the new sheriff. You have taken over where that voice left off. That you still wear that Sheriff badge because it makes you feel more justified protecting her through murder.
That's not what I have done.
Isn't it, though?
No. No. I am protecting her. I'm not wrong.
Doesn't make it any less true.
Ignore it, Simon. You are right. You should tell her.
Yes. Yes. She will understand. Tell her carefully. Artfully.
He picked up a pile of sand and smoothed it on the ground between them. he traced the words with his fingertips. It had to be done.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Jadedflames. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"Why?"
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Jadedflames*
- Posts: 71
- Joined: Tue Aug 21, 2018 4:19 am
His hand shook slightly as he smoothed his sand.
They would kill you
He hesitated slightly before continuing.
and me.
He started to write more, but had hit the end of the "page." His hand trembled again before sliding his palm through the sand, and traced another word.
Us.
They would kill you
He hesitated slightly before continuing.
and me.
He started to write more, but had hit the end of the "page." His hand trembled again before sliding his palm through the sand, and traced another word.
Us.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Jadedflames. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Us.
Her teeth clenched tight at the word. Us implied there was a you and me to begin with. Us implied that there was a couple of people, and what he was saying implied she was in danger. More danger than the ever-present that loomed over everyone now. So the fact that she was being protected by him was an interesting statement because-
"Nobody knows I'm even here Simon."
She wasn't being pathetic and questioning now, she was asserting herself to him. He was not going to bullshit her, he wasn't going to pull the wool over her eyes until she got the right answers.
"All day I've been wandering around and keeping out of sight and out of the way of people. The only people I've seen are the dead ones, the ones that can't really tell people I've been here. Nobody knows who I am, and nobody knows where I am, and nobody wants me dead."
She met his eyes. The force behind them could blind.
"So now I need you to tell me why the other Simon is laying dead by the river, two others have bullets in them and someone got blown up, because I have not met anyone yet who has threatened my life."
You're the only one even close Simon. Don't make me lose you.
Her teeth clenched tight at the word. Us implied there was a you and me to begin with. Us implied that there was a couple of people, and what he was saying implied she was in danger. More danger than the ever-present that loomed over everyone now. So the fact that she was being protected by him was an interesting statement because-
"Nobody knows I'm even here Simon."
She wasn't being pathetic and questioning now, she was asserting herself to him. He was not going to bullshit her, he wasn't going to pull the wool over her eyes until she got the right answers.
"All day I've been wandering around and keeping out of sight and out of the way of people. The only people I've seen are the dead ones, the ones that can't really tell people I've been here. Nobody knows who I am, and nobody knows where I am, and nobody wants me dead."
She met his eyes. The force behind them could blind.
"So now I need you to tell me why the other Simon is laying dead by the river, two others have bullets in them and someone got blown up, because I have not met anyone yet who has threatened my life."
You're the only one even close Simon. Don't make me lose you.
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Jadedflames*
- Posts: 71
- Joined: Tue Aug 21, 2018 4:19 am
"Nobody knows I'm even here Simon."
Simon averted his eyes from her stare. He flinched at her words. But he knew he was right. Everyone else was out there for blood. Why couldn't she understand?
The girl.
That's right. The girl. The one with the bear. The one who kept getting away.
He traced quickly, trying to keep up with his thoughts.
That girl. The one at the cabin.
Erase.
She was with the first one. With Simon. And a gun.
Erase.
And she was with the others.
She knows. She has tried to kill.
That's right, Simon. It is her fault. She is the one leading everyone else. She is everywhere. Everyone else just sided with her. And those that side with her are just as bad.
Simon averted his eyes from her stare. He flinched at her words. But he knew he was right. Everyone else was out there for blood. Why couldn't she understand?
The girl.
That's right. The girl. The one with the bear. The one who kept getting away.
He traced quickly, trying to keep up with his thoughts.
That girl. The one at the cabin.
Erase.
She was with the first one. With Simon. And a gun.
Erase.
And she was with the others.
She knows. She has tried to kill.
That's right, Simon. It is her fault. She is the one leading everyone else. She is everywhere. Everyone else just sided with her. And those that side with her are just as bad.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Jadedflames. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Cameo wanted to believe Simon, but it wasn't adding up. Everything he was writing sounded like an excuse, a lie. This girl he spoke of couldn't know about Cameo, whoever this deluded and psychopathic girl was. Those others were a bunch of people that he'd killed? Did he kill them because she was just around them? It was all sounding like an unwoven web. It didn't thread together.
"Simon..."
Cameo had taken her gaze away from him. She couldn't look at him until she started telling the truth.
"Nothing you're saying is making sense."
Her hands numbly gripped each other like intertwined baby boas. They wrought as she thought and tried to think of how anything he was telling her would make sense. Because all he'd told her was that he'd killed people who were hanging around this mystery girl she hadn't met, but was somehow a danger to her. It didn't make sense. Nothing he said was making sense.
"I'll give you one last chance to tell me. And you need to tell me the truth. No excuses. No girl. You need to tell me why four people are dead."
If he couldn't tell the truth to her, the only person he seemed to trust and look out for, then it didn't bode well for the path that looked so bleak down the road. It only spelt death for Cameo if she couldn't figure out the truth.
"Simon..."
Cameo had taken her gaze away from him. She couldn't look at him until she started telling the truth.
"Nothing you're saying is making sense."
Her hands numbly gripped each other like intertwined baby boas. They wrought as she thought and tried to think of how anything he was telling her would make sense. Because all he'd told her was that he'd killed people who were hanging around this mystery girl she hadn't met, but was somehow a danger to her. It didn't make sense. Nothing he said was making sense.
"I'll give you one last chance to tell me. And you need to tell me the truth. No excuses. No girl. You need to tell me why four people are dead."
If he couldn't tell the truth to her, the only person he seemed to trust and look out for, then it didn't bode well for the path that looked so bleak down the road. It only spelt death for Cameo if she couldn't figure out the truth.
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Jadedflames*
- Posts: 71
- Joined: Tue Aug 21, 2018 4:19 am
Simon looked at her, trying to figure out what she wanted. He was telling the truth, he was doing it to protect her. To protect them. Everyone was out for themselves. Everyone was out to kill.
He looked at the sand.
Because if I can make sure you survive, that you win,
He swallowed.
then I won't be
Won't be what, Simon?
He could not figure it out. He could not find the word he wanted. The word he needed. The word that would make her understand. His finger drifted into the sand, making a line, before he rubbed it out, frowning.
What's the matter Simon, cat got your tongue?
Panic.
He could not finish. She would leave him.
What are you, Simon?
Shut up.
A cold blooded murderer? Is that it? If you save someone, you don't have to worry about the blood on your hands?
No. No. That's not it.
Or is it a failure, Simon? You've never done anything right, so you think saving Cameo will give your life meaning?
Shut up!
You're nothing more than a killer, Simon. You are a worthless murderer.
Simon's shoulders slumped down, withdrawn, just as he had so frequently done to block out the pain at school.
You're just an angry little mute boy. A retard. A simple, idiotic, angry boy with a gun.
His eyes started to water.
And you thought that all this would give you meaning. You are nothing.
He closed his eyes.
Simon.
...
Simon.
...
Simon. He's lying. He wants you to fail. to die. Don't listen to him.
Simon reached over to the sand, and started to write again, slowly.
I won't be what they say I am.
He looked at the sand.
Because if I can make sure you survive, that you win,
He swallowed.
then I won't be
Won't be what, Simon?
He could not figure it out. He could not find the word he wanted. The word he needed. The word that would make her understand. His finger drifted into the sand, making a line, before he rubbed it out, frowning.
What's the matter Simon, cat got your tongue?
Panic.
He could not finish. She would leave him.
What are you, Simon?
Shut up.
A cold blooded murderer? Is that it? If you save someone, you don't have to worry about the blood on your hands?
No. No. That's not it.
Or is it a failure, Simon? You've never done anything right, so you think saving Cameo will give your life meaning?
Shut up!
You're nothing more than a killer, Simon. You are a worthless murderer.
Simon's shoulders slumped down, withdrawn, just as he had so frequently done to block out the pain at school.
You're just an angry little mute boy. A retard. A simple, idiotic, angry boy with a gun.
His eyes started to water.
And you thought that all this would give you meaning. You are nothing.
He closed his eyes.
Simon.
...
Simon.
...
Simon. He's lying. He wants you to fail. to die. Don't listen to him.
Simon reached over to the sand, and started to write again, slowly.
I won't be what they say I am.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Jadedflames. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
It was silent for such a long time at that platform. Cameo couldn't do anything but sit there, and read that final sentence, over and over.
I won't be what they say I am.
She couldn't respond to that. There was nothing to say to that, because it told her everything she needed to make her decision on the fly. It told her why he was doing this. Fuck all the excuses, fuck whoever this girl was, fuck his sympathy for her, she knew why he was doing this now.
I won't be what they say I am.
Not this. Not again. She wasn't being held responsible for someone else's decisions. That weight was not supposed to be on her shoulders after all this time. She shelved that responsibility a long time ago, and there was no way it was going to come back out again in a life or death situation.
Because whatever he told her, he wasn't doing this for her. Anyone who would willingly give up their own life for her weren't the kinds of people she knew could keep her safe. He was reckless, he was obsessed, and he was losing his mind. She couldn't rely on someone like that if he was willing to throw it all away for her.
Cameo was strong. She didn't need Simon for this. Not this Simon. She could have relied on the Simon that she met at the shack earlier today, but this Simon wasn't him.
I won't be what they say I am.
She finally met his gaze. Her eyes cold. She scratched away the sand and replaced his final words with some of her own.
But you already are.
And that was it. She lifted herself from the train platform, and grabbed her bag from the bench.
"You're not him."
Cameo didn't even bother to face him.
"You're not the Simon I met today. You're something completely different, and it isn't the Simon I let in to keep safe. When that Simon, the one I spoke to, comes back, come find me. Because you're not him."
She started walking away down the platform and into the darkness.
"Bye Simon."
((Cameo Conroy continues in Rebel Without A Clue))
I won't be what they say I am.
She couldn't respond to that. There was nothing to say to that, because it told her everything she needed to make her decision on the fly. It told her why he was doing this. Fuck all the excuses, fuck whoever this girl was, fuck his sympathy for her, she knew why he was doing this now.
I won't be what they say I am.
Not this. Not again. She wasn't being held responsible for someone else's decisions. That weight was not supposed to be on her shoulders after all this time. She shelved that responsibility a long time ago, and there was no way it was going to come back out again in a life or death situation.
Because whatever he told her, he wasn't doing this for her. Anyone who would willingly give up their own life for her weren't the kinds of people she knew could keep her safe. He was reckless, he was obsessed, and he was losing his mind. She couldn't rely on someone like that if he was willing to throw it all away for her.
Cameo was strong. She didn't need Simon for this. Not this Simon. She could have relied on the Simon that she met at the shack earlier today, but this Simon wasn't him.
I won't be what they say I am.
She finally met his gaze. Her eyes cold. She scratched away the sand and replaced his final words with some of her own.
But you already are.
And that was it. She lifted herself from the train platform, and grabbed her bag from the bench.
"You're not him."
Cameo didn't even bother to face him.
"You're not the Simon I met today. You're something completely different, and it isn't the Simon I let in to keep safe. When that Simon, the one I spoke to, comes back, come find me. Because you're not him."
She started walking away down the platform and into the darkness.
"Bye Simon."
((Cameo Conroy continues in Rebel Without A Clue))
-
Jadedflames*
- Posts: 71
- Joined: Tue Aug 21, 2018 4:19 am
No. No wait. This wasn't right. She was supposed to stay. To be his ally. To love him. He had done all of this for her and this was how she repaid him? In insults and rejection? Just like everyone else?
He stared after her as she walked away, vanishing into the night. He frowned, clenching his teeth. A tear rolled down his cheek. Then another. Soon, he could barely see for the tears, crawling over to his pack. To his gun.
Blindly, he pointed the gun into the dark, not at anything. But at everything. Everything needed to disappear. Everyone. He pulled the trigger, hearing the crack, loading again, firing, blasting into the night with a blind fury. A wordless scream erupted from his throat, vying for volume with the gun, the second exclamation in this bizarre, hellish day. His screamed died off, leaving his untested vocal cords raw and tired, incapable of continuing. The gun lay empty in his hands. He had the vague sensation of burning from where his fingers had been gripping the barrel, but he only vaguely noticed.
The voices in his head were all talking at once, all rising to a deafening roar, till all he could hear was white noise. And then, out of the noise, came a single sentence.
Why can't you be the winner, Simon?
No kill fear all why not pain All them mad crazy? You Despa- Murd- Yes Pa- ca-SDeShNotrastrpcalasce
Why can't you be the winner?
Yes. Who is to say that he could not win? If he did not have to look after her, then he was free to do what was needed. No more restraint. No more worrying about what she would think. Why bother? Why bother when he could live?
He reloaded the gun in a daze, hefted the pack and stumbled down the steps, noise still deafening, reverberating in his skull. He trudged into the sand, eyes wide, staring into the night.
((Simon Mattheson continued in Scrambled Egg))
He stared after her as she walked away, vanishing into the night. He frowned, clenching his teeth. A tear rolled down his cheek. Then another. Soon, he could barely see for the tears, crawling over to his pack. To his gun.
Blindly, he pointed the gun into the dark, not at anything. But at everything. Everything needed to disappear. Everyone. He pulled the trigger, hearing the crack, loading again, firing, blasting into the night with a blind fury. A wordless scream erupted from his throat, vying for volume with the gun, the second exclamation in this bizarre, hellish day. His screamed died off, leaving his untested vocal cords raw and tired, incapable of continuing. The gun lay empty in his hands. He had the vague sensation of burning from where his fingers had been gripping the barrel, but he only vaguely noticed.
The voices in his head were all talking at once, all rising to a deafening roar, till all he could hear was white noise. And then, out of the noise, came a single sentence.
Why can't you be the winner, Simon?
No kill fear all why not pain All them mad crazy? You Despa- Murd- Yes Pa- ca-SDeShNotrastrpcalasce
Why can't you be the winner?
Yes. Who is to say that he could not win? If he did not have to look after her, then he was free to do what was needed. No more restraint. No more worrying about what she would think. Why bother? Why bother when he could live?
He reloaded the gun in a daze, hefted the pack and stumbled down the steps, noise still deafening, reverberating in his skull. He trudged into the sand, eyes wide, staring into the night.
((Simon Mattheson continued in Scrambled Egg))
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