JULY 9, 2014.
Post by Victorique Bellerose on Mar 1, 2014 12:41:56 GMT -5
i write sins
not tragedies
not tragedies
If there was ever an appropriate time for one to wake up from a presumed dream, this was it. This was the exact moment where Victorique would find herself jumping off her bed at the horrible, horrible nightmare she'd just awoken from. Beads of sweat would have rolled down her forehead, to the point of making her look as though she'd just taken an impromptu dip into the sink.
That did not happen.
Instead, the young woman found herself face to face with the remains of a man who used to be alive. Used to be alive, until she herself had ended it. Did she do it willingly? Would she have done it if she knew of the consequences? No, she absolutely would not. But did she have a choice, other than to succumb to those temptations? Even if she were to continue resisting, she would most likely have pounced and taken the life of the next person she sees, no matter whom it may be. She knew what happened. She had the scene replaying inside her head over and over again, how she lewdly fondled the man before ending his life within an instant.
Victorique continued staring forward with a blank expression, her own two eyes watering up. Her breathing began to go uneven, and she would look as though she was hyperventilating. Not a single one of the woman's words would come across to her. The way she was right now, everything seemed to be reflecting and bouncing off of her own little protective bubble of thoughts that she's sealed herself in, but almost all of her hope immediately came crashing down to the ground when it finally dawned on her..
She was a murderer.
Trembling hands, mixed with a sudden rise in discomfort within her chest alongside breathing that was all over the place. The shock alone was enough to trigger an asthma attack, as evident when she began clutching her chest and an audible squeakiness could be heard whenever she exhaled. But the worst part is? She did not have her inhaler with her.
That did not happen.
Instead, the young woman found herself face to face with the remains of a man who used to be alive. Used to be alive, until she herself had ended it. Did she do it willingly? Would she have done it if she knew of the consequences? No, she absolutely would not. But did she have a choice, other than to succumb to those temptations? Even if she were to continue resisting, she would most likely have pounced and taken the life of the next person she sees, no matter whom it may be. She knew what happened. She had the scene replaying inside her head over and over again, how she lewdly fondled the man before ending his life within an instant.
Victorique continued staring forward with a blank expression, her own two eyes watering up. Her breathing began to go uneven, and she would look as though she was hyperventilating. Not a single one of the woman's words would come across to her. The way she was right now, everything seemed to be reflecting and bouncing off of her own little protective bubble of thoughts that she's sealed herself in, but almost all of her hope immediately came crashing down to the ground when it finally dawned on her..
She was a murderer.
Trembling hands, mixed with a sudden rise in discomfort within her chest alongside breathing that was all over the place. The shock alone was enough to trigger an asthma attack, as evident when she began clutching her chest and an audible squeakiness could be heard whenever she exhaled. But the worst part is? She did not have her inhaler with her.
@fleur
GLASS HAS GANGNAM STYLE
