The house was quiet, and alone Keirra sat on the couch burning a smoke in little more than a t-shirt and panties. Her unkempt hair had grown long, nearly touching the swell of her stomach. She twisted the nearly spent cigarette between her forefinger and thumb soaking in the solitude. Zver had gone off to bed some time ago, leaving the rogue with her attitude. The only other soul around her was Zim, the white wolf slept soundly on the other side of the couch, playing the loyal guard dog. It was a routine night for them, or what seemed so anymore" Keirra tormented Zver, exerted all she had into breaking him into pieces. It was the normal anymore.
Why'
There was a foggy cloud of hatred swirling in her mind, and there were times where it made her sad, and others where she reveled in it. Why couldn't every day be like Christmas" Why couldn't things be like before" She didn't understand'didn't understand why it felt like her mission to make the man miserable anymore"or why she had to be so damned angry all the time"
Her lips pulled on the filter of the cigarette, sucking away as she basked in that moment of humanity that seemed so rare for her anymore. She felt as if the days were leaving her behind, like she was losing time, her mind, and everything in between. "I don't want to hurt him anymore?" she whispered to herself. "I want things to go back?" Ignoring the perk of ear from the white wolf, leaning forward to stamp that cigarette out in the tray. Her eyes fell shut as she murdered what was left of the filter and leaned back. Zim belly crawled across the couch to her and let out a little whimper as her nose nudged beneath the rogue's hand almost desperately.
That limb was jerked away from the cold, wet nose of the wolf. When those eyes resurfaced, her pupils were black all the way into the whites of her eyes leaving little more than slick black holes between lash and lid. "Mutt?" she muttered before pushing up to a stand. A soft tune was carried over her lips as she moved into the kitchen. Fingers trailed over the block that held the knives, and she smirked lightly before pulling out a small blade and starting out and toward the stairs.
Their bedroom was dimly lit, but the moonlight filtered in on his frame. He slept the same every night. On his belly in a straight line, with those arms folded beneath the pillow" The black-eyed girl tilted her head lightly, humming that soft tune as she moved to stand over him, poking the knife against the flesh of her forefinger as she seemed to consider his sleeping form for a moment. She pressed a hand against his back to hold him still, and then began to carve into the flesh of his right shoulder blade.
((The tune that she's humming. Storyline in which she is possessed by one of Zver's old victims with permission from Zver's mun. For more information, please see Memories of a Serial Killer: Lisa. Thanks for reading!))
Why'
There was a foggy cloud of hatred swirling in her mind, and there were times where it made her sad, and others where she reveled in it. Why couldn't every day be like Christmas" Why couldn't things be like before" She didn't understand'didn't understand why it felt like her mission to make the man miserable anymore"or why she had to be so damned angry all the time"
Her lips pulled on the filter of the cigarette, sucking away as she basked in that moment of humanity that seemed so rare for her anymore. She felt as if the days were leaving her behind, like she was losing time, her mind, and everything in between. "I don't want to hurt him anymore?" she whispered to herself. "I want things to go back?" Ignoring the perk of ear from the white wolf, leaning forward to stamp that cigarette out in the tray. Her eyes fell shut as she murdered what was left of the filter and leaned back. Zim belly crawled across the couch to her and let out a little whimper as her nose nudged beneath the rogue's hand almost desperately.
That limb was jerked away from the cold, wet nose of the wolf. When those eyes resurfaced, her pupils were black all the way into the whites of her eyes leaving little more than slick black holes between lash and lid. "Mutt?" she muttered before pushing up to a stand. A soft tune was carried over her lips as she moved into the kitchen. Fingers trailed over the block that held the knives, and she smirked lightly before pulling out a small blade and starting out and toward the stairs.
Their bedroom was dimly lit, but the moonlight filtered in on his frame. He slept the same every night. On his belly in a straight line, with those arms folded beneath the pillow" The black-eyed girl tilted her head lightly, humming that soft tune as she moved to stand over him, poking the knife against the flesh of her forefinger as she seemed to consider his sleeping form for a moment. She pressed a hand against his back to hold him still, and then began to carve into the flesh of his right shoulder blade.
((The tune that she's humming. Storyline in which she is possessed by one of Zver's old victims with permission from Zver's mun. For more information, please see Memories of a Serial Killer: Lisa. Thanks for reading!))