Post by Sober on Mar 6, 2013 12:21:11 GMT -5
Was this...
No.
It couldn't be.
This couldn't be the home she once knew. Okay.. What the FUCK happened? Seriously? How long had she been... dead. Yes. That was, unfortunately, the word she was looking for. Dead. Deceased. Lying in a god damn pit. Rotting... kind of, and then being rebuilt. Trisha didn't fucking understand it. The only thing she was able to come up with was that Strike, fucking Strike, had given her something she never wanted. But it was necessary, right? It was required to keep everyone safe, to eliminate a threat, but then Strike came back and his power had flown back into him. She thought the power was gone forever, but then... she died and came back.
As Trisha tried to wrap her mind around it, her knees gave out beneath her. She crouched there, putting her head between her legs in despair. She didn't want to be alive. Killed by a friend and a lover, Trisha had accepted death. With that acceptance came contentedness. And in that contentedness came resentment at being alive. The memories she had... the last few moments of her life were still so fresh in her mind - like it happened days ago and the despair and utter weight of loss was heavy on her form. She rocked back and forth, her arms draping over her head as she tried to collect herself.
Groaning, Trisha held back the bitter tears. Everything had changed and she still didn't understand it. What the fuck was this place? The city... Strike had said something about home, but this wasn't home! That lying bastard. That animal! He was a fucking animal. She saw him. He was a feral beast... barely able to form a single fucking word. Home. No! This wasn't home.
So she stayed in that position, shielding herself from this god forsaken world. She couldn't bring herself to look at it.
No.
It couldn't be.
This couldn't be the home she once knew. Okay.. What the FUCK happened? Seriously? How long had she been... dead. Yes. That was, unfortunately, the word she was looking for. Dead. Deceased. Lying in a god damn pit. Rotting... kind of, and then being rebuilt. Trisha didn't fucking understand it. The only thing she was able to come up with was that Strike, fucking Strike, had given her something she never wanted. But it was necessary, right? It was required to keep everyone safe, to eliminate a threat, but then Strike came back and his power had flown back into him. She thought the power was gone forever, but then... she died and came back.
As Trisha tried to wrap her mind around it, her knees gave out beneath her. She crouched there, putting her head between her legs in despair. She didn't want to be alive. Killed by a friend and a lover, Trisha had accepted death. With that acceptance came contentedness. And in that contentedness came resentment at being alive. The memories she had... the last few moments of her life were still so fresh in her mind - like it happened days ago and the despair and utter weight of loss was heavy on her form. She rocked back and forth, her arms draping over her head as she tried to collect herself.
Groaning, Trisha held back the bitter tears. Everything had changed and she still didn't understand it. What the fuck was this place? The city... Strike had said something about home, but this wasn't home! That lying bastard. That animal! He was a fucking animal. She saw him. He was a feral beast... barely able to form a single fucking word. Home. No! This wasn't home.
So she stayed in that position, shielding herself from this god forsaken world. She couldn't bring herself to look at it.