▲
WHY DO THINGS I LOVE RUN FROM ME?[A1i:2] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Nova Bryant on Nov 26, 2010 20:24:42 GMT -8
Green eyes shifted from side to side, she was nervous about being in the school. All the people, the strangers, or dangerous. Or so she thought. Nova was still having issues judging others, something she never really liked to do, sadly it was apart of her new life. Head down she weaved silently through the crowds of people. They gathered and prepared for lunch, all heading in their own directions, either alone, in pairs, or packs. While Nova wandered silently alone, wondering where the least crowded zone would be. What could be a safe location to eat.
Why can't I just go home....?
Sighing the tall girl held the strap of her messenger bag tightly, hands becoming sweaty as her nerves got to her. Breath becoming shorter and far more stressed while a warm feeling consuming her. Stomach tied in a knot. she wished to run and hide in a bathroom stall.... Sadly that wasn't a cleanly place to eat.
You can do it... Last a day at school.. Don't run away. There's nothing to be afraid of, nothing has happened. What could possibly happen today
It was a Friday, she was alone, as usual, the few acquaintances she had met somewhere lost to the tides of the city. If only she had some calming presence to keep her calm. to reassure her she wasn't just some shadow in the background, passing through people's line of vision once in a while during her treks.
She was alive, right?
Her wrist pressed against her chest, hands still wrapped tightly around the black strap of her bag. There was a heart beat, heart pumping away in her chest. She felt as if there was something caught in her chest. Why was school so different from being out in the real world? Maybe because it happened inside the school? That could be it.. Most likely.
Turning the corner,the girl thought to herself, Who would be under the stairwell. Perhaps it was her safest bet.
|
|
▲
And by my own admission you'll find that my condition is worse then you imagined[A1i:8] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Patrick O'Connor on Nov 26, 2010 22:15:02 GMT -8
It was time to face the music.
Daniel had made a lot of mistakes in his life. There were a lot of things that he had done that were unpardonable, things that he could never make up for. Daniel had to live with everything he had done. Every murder that he had committed, every moment he had sadistically tortured someone etched into his mind. He had spent a long time looking for redemption for what he had done. It had taken him a long time but he came to the unsettling conclusion awhile ago. There was no redemption for what he had done. There was no redemption, only penance.
Daniel walked down the halls with purpose. For the first time in a long time Daniel had the chance to do something of value. He had the chance to make up for one of the things he had done wrong. He had the chance to achieve some of the penance for what he had done. Daniel had recently found out that the girl he had tortured and crucified at his school in San Francisco was still alive. This came as news to him as he had thought she died. He hadn't heard of her survival after he had committed the deed so he had considered her a goner. This had come as news to Daniel seeing as he had left her for dead, to dangle over the school's entrance for many hours before she was taken down. Daniel cringed as he thought of his last words to her: "It's two AM. ye got roughly six hours before people start showing up. Can ye win yer life? It would be easier to die though, far less painful too."
It was difficult for him to believe that he had said them, but then again Daniel knew why he had. He hadn't given a fuck. He was a soulless bastard with no regard for anyone's existence. Daniel had lost everything so he had thought others could stand to loose some as well. Had decided he wasn't putting up with shit, became insanely interested in death. Craziness, all of it. Not that he was sane now so who could say? Anyway he tromped on hoping to find Nova Bryant the name of the girl he had crucified.
Nova Bryant, he hadn't even known her name and he had broken her jaw and done that fucked up shit. How messed up was that?
Yeah, Daniel had whatever was coming to him in this life, or the next.
He walked into the staircase and noticed a girl looking under the stairs. Daniel's immediate reaction was to wonder why. It looked like she was going to try and hide there. Daniel gave her a weird look before actually looking at who she was. His eyes widened in shock as he realized who it was. It was her. The girl that he had crucified. Nova. She was a lot different then when Patrick O'Connor had last met her.
Sure she looked the same for the most part, maybe her hair was a little longer but that made little difference, that was not what he was referring to. She looked much more reserved. More watchful of her surroundings. To be blunt she looked more afraid, of everything. Daniel cringed knowing the truth, that he had done this to her. He had to confirm that it was in fact her though before he did anything. In a Bostonian accent that would sound familiar to a degree but with out the irish in it Daniel would call out, "Nova Bryant?"
When she looked at him she would not see the same man that she had before, over a year ago. Daniel wore a pair of old blue jeans with a shirt was a grey t shirt that read "Whiskey Militia" with the logo plastered at his chest level. His hair was a short black, dyed from his natural red, the lenght was just barely long enough in front to wave with the slight breezes that so often came by the ocean. His eyes were a deep blue, made this color from the contacts he wore to hide his natural green eyes. The only other marks of significance were the few scars on his left forearm but the one that made him stand out was the scar that ran down from his right eyebrow down past his nose. That scar could not be so easily hidden.
Daniel had asked a simple question, trying to hide his true identity but the real question was, Could her tormentor so easily hide himself from her? And if she did recognize him, would she run out the door behind her, up the stairs, or would she stay and face him?
|
|
▲
WHY DO THINGS I LOVE RUN FROM ME?[A1i:2] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Nova Bryant on Nov 27, 2010 6:00:23 GMT -8
Moving slowly she was about to turn the corner when someone behind her spoke.Sending a chill down her spine as she quickly straightened up. The person knew her name and the voice did not belong to any of the people she had become acquainted with during her time there. Although that wasn't exactly the thing that scared her, more so the accent.
It sounded familiar yet at the same time, it wasn't him, right? Taking a deep breath she'd turn around, Nova looked upon some black haired young man with blue eyes. There was some nagging voice in her head that set off an alarm. There was something about his face that reminded her of "him".
Wait...
How did he know her name?
He was never in her class, so that wasn't how she knew him. So, standing there silent with a bit of a worried look on her face, taking a long pause before responding. Yes, that was so Nova. "Yeah..." She spoke slowly and quietly, perhaps not as loud and confident as she was almost a year before. Trying her hardest not to stumble over the simple reply.
Why did she have that feeling?
"He" had red hair and green eyes, he didn't dress like that. Why was it the alarm went off? Looking off to the side, the girl couldn't shake that feeling, the voice of reason that told her to run away.
Run away...'he' is here
Washing over her, the memories of that time, the scar. It had to be him, right? The voice, sure the accent was off. Although that could have been time playing its own little trick on her. It had happened more than a year ago, she was consumed by pain and fear. It had to be a mistake, right? No point in jumping off the deep end right away. Even though she was sure it was him.
CCOUUURRRAAGGEEEEEE.
Nova wasn't sure if she could really face 'him'.
"Can..I help.. you?"
Don't stand there... Run.
|
|
▲
And by my own admission you'll find that my condition is worse then you imagined[A1i:8] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Patrick O'Connor on Nov 27, 2010 21:23:29 GMT -8
"Yeah..."
So it was her. After a year and a half. Patrick O'Connor never thought he'd see her again. For one, he thought she had been dead and for two, well he hadn't come looking for her. He had thought about it, and looking for that Connor kid too. That thought had been dismissed when Patrick thought about the reason he had gone back to New York. He had spent six months searching for that cocksucker that had betrayed him. That cocksucker that had made his life into a living hell. He never found anything, not even one goddamn lead. That's why he had never thought of going out of his way to look for them. Perhaps that was karma, justice. Because of all the horrible things he had done his punishment was no justice for what had been done to him. Sure, there were obvious flaws in that but Daniel was in no position to think on that.
Back to the task at hand. Patrick always knew that he would have to pay for what he had done. There was just no way for Daniel to apologize for what had happened, no way for him to own up to it. Patrick O'Connor was a murderer and the offense for that was death. Torture and his sick game that he had played, it deserved the same penalty. Daniel was living on borrowed time anyway.
"Can..I help.. you?"
"Yeah," Patrick O'Connor said, picking up his thick irish accent again. Daniel put his hand up to his eyes and pulled out his contacts, revealing his green eyes. This time when he spoke to her there was no malice in his voice. No hate, no rage, he merely spoke to her as a fellow human being. Pausing to collect his thoughts he spoke again, letting his accent off the leash he had put it on, "It's been a long time, Nova.
He had come up with things to say to her but now that he was here, he well. Daniel was just at a loss for words and Patrick wasn't doing any better. How could you explain that to anyone? How could you just tell someone that the only reason you broke their jaw, tortured them, and crucified them was because they bumped into you while you were in a bad mood? Apologies seemed really moot at this point, as well as just about every action, but one. The irish junior just stood there in silence contemplating all of this, unaware of how terrifying this experience must be for the girl.
Perhaps she would run, perhaps she would not. Regardless Patrick still had business with her that he would attend to, one way or the other...
|
|
▲
WHY DO THINGS I LOVE RUN FROM ME?[A1i:2] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Nova Bryant on Nov 28, 2010 0:41:33 GMT -8
Nova looked down, almost as if the ground was interesting. The same floors she had spent a good period of time focusing on, it hadn't changed; although she wished it did. It gets boring looking at the same thing everyday whilst wandering about hoping to go unseen. Her hands were beginning to sweat, perhaps because she was nervous, or maybe because of how tight she was holding her bag.
Letting her right arm drop to her side, the girl started to twist the ring on her finger nearest to her thumb...with her thumb. Oh nervous habits that somehow calm the busy mind. Her black and purple hair slide down in front of her eyes as she stood waiting for a response.
Then she heard it...
The voice that once spoke in her nightmares, the man who tormented her one night. Something that never seemed to leave her. So, it was him. There was no mistaking it, it was the accent. Looking up, she'd watch as he removed his contacts.
His expression was off, he didn't look at her the way he had when they first met. Sure there was no anger, nothing scary, but him. Her green eyes widened, shock and a sudden fear consumed her. Sure she was nervous before, now she was terrified. Why had he appeared and how did he know her name? Her eyes started to water, she needed to escape, it wasn't safe.
A wolf can wear a sheep's mask.
"No.."
It took a moment for her legs to respond, she'd turn and run. Pushing open the door, the girl took off running. There was no way she'd be anywhere near that man ever again. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to have anything to do with him, or risk being attacked by him.
I should have run when I had the chance.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, the voice rang in her head. The same lines that repeated in each of her nightmares. "It's two AM. ye got roughly six hours before people start showing up. Can ye win yer life? It would be easier to die though, far less painful too." She remembered hanging from the school, how hard it was to breath and all the pain shooting through her each time she did so.
Why did he come back?
Keep running.
Outside was a safer place, right?
|
|
▲
And by my own admission you'll find that my condition is worse then you imagined[A1i:8] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Patrick O'Connor on Dec 20, 2010 22:17:28 GMT -8
Nova started to shake and twitch nervously as Patrick stood there silently. He honestly didn't know what to say, he was at a loss for words. His plans for apology forgotten as he watched the girl tremble in a fit of fear. Patrick looked on as she began to cry, tears filling her eyes. There was really nothing Patrick could say. He knew he had hurt her badly, hell he had thought he killed her. What he didn't know was the extent of the damage he had done. That was the question that loomed in his mind. How awful it must of been, being tortured for those hours. How terrifying it must of been, not knowing if anyone was going to save her before her body gave out. How humiliating it must have been to be paraded around the school and prostrated before the entire school body.
"No.."
As Nova turned and ran Patrick stood in horror for the first time, recalling and reflecting on his actions, "Dear God, what have I done?"
Patrick quivered for a moment before giving chase to her, his resolve to do what he must strengthened. She had a lead on him yes but during school hours the street that she was running down was not full enough to hinder neither his vision nor ability to follow her. It took Patrick a minute or two and a few turned corners but he would catch up with her.
"Nova," he yelled beside her, "Nova!"
His voice held no anger nor impatience. It simply held the attempts to understand the fear that seemed to have encroached every area of her life. He ran along beside her hoping for her to stop. Patrick would understand if she didn't, if she didn't want to but he did need to do this.
It was necessary, for both of their souls...
|
|
▲
WHY DO THINGS I LOVE RUN FROM ME?[A1i:2] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Nova Bryant on Dec 21, 2010 15:57:54 GMT -8
Of course only a naive fool would assume someone who was chasing you would stop because of leaving the building. The person who had haunted her waking life for what felt like an eternity.. She had met with him once again. Something of course spineless person would wish against happening. She was weak emotionally and she knew it. Everything sent her into a freight, and this.. this well, it was horrible. Of course he was fast, since one never seems to be able to out run their nightmares... Nova looked to the side, her green eyes widened in horror as she saw him. Speedy... Taking a deep breath, she'd close her eyes. What was the point in running? She'd never get far, perhaps it was time to stop and face it. But could she really do it?
Running, with her eyes closed made the field feel like it had shrunk, what had seemed like kilometers returned to how it should have been. Why did he have to show up? Why couldn't he have disappeared? I was moving on with my life... Nova's thoughts were thought in a scared and yet angry tone.
If she could think mad, could she turn around and see him?
The fence was before her, the two posts that marked the end of the school grounds. She had stopped. Back to the tormentor from many many nightmares ago. This time he looked a little different, although it was still him. She was still Nova, her hair was a little darker and she didn't walk with a confident stride and a bright smile. A snail, something moving slow and appearing on rainy days.. always hiding in one's shell when things got bad.. Or if they didn't seem friendly.
Was it time to stop running and face him?
What would happen if she did?
Did she have the spine for it? Some would assume no.. But of course, being who she was once, Nova loved to prove people wrong. Those whom called her a spineless coward, it was time to prove them wrong.
Turning around slowly, her green gaze focused on the ground. She didn't wish to look up, at least not yet. Taking a deep breath, the girl would attempt to grab hold of her nervousness and cage the fear that risked over taking her fully. Living in the shadows was not for Nova, she wanted to regain the person she had once been... It was time to try and get her back... Even if it meant facing 'him' again. I can do this... Even though she doubted herself, Nova slowly looked up, her black and purple hair covering a good portion of her face. Green eyes locking on 'him',they were both determined yet overcome with fear.
What was going to happen?
"What?"
It was all she could muster, her voice was being difficult. Not answering to the beck and call of her brain. It took a moment and even then, she was quiet. Not exactly the impact she wanted, but at least it was trying, right? "What do you want from me?"
[[OOC: fail xD; its been a while~ ]]
|
|
▲
And by my own admission you'll find that my condition is worse then you imagined[A1i:8] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Patrick O'Connor on Dec 22, 2010 14:15:53 GMT -8
She stopped. Hearing his footsteps she stopped, and Patrick did as well a few strides later. This time there was something different about her. Her fear stayed, that was undiminished from her form but there was something that was different from what Patrick had witnessed just moments before. She turned around, still looking at the ground. After a moment it was then, that Patrick saw something that he had only witnessed once from her, for only a brief moment. He saw determination. He saw a girl who was willing to stand up for herself. Patrick had only seen that before he had started torturing her, only before he had broken her jaw. Patrick smiled weakly. At least he had not taken it all, not broken her past the point of no return.
"What?
...
"What do you want from me?"
Fear was still very much apart of her person, that much was clear to Patrick. But she wasn't cowering anymore. For that Patrick was glad. Part of him wanted to play the part of the asshole now to try and reinforce that but he quickly quieted that voice in his head. Who was he? What right did he have to do that? He didn't even have the right to be near her. Not after what he had done. Besides there was not much he could do to reinforce her actions that didn't involve damaging her further. He couldn't risk harming her further, but more importantly at this point deviating now would cause forfeiting his main purpose here.
Patrick remained silent, paused for a moment, preparing himself. After a moment passed Patrick pulled his shirt up reaching to his back. Feeling the cold metal in each hand he pulled out what he had been reaching for. A clip that contained twelve 45 caliber rounds and the clip's matching Mk 23. Patrick looked her in the eye as he placed the clip into the gun and cocked it, chambering a round. Still not answering her he started to move towards her. He held the gun in his right hand, finger off the trigger.
It was always going to come down to this.
His walk was slow, and painfully slow for him. He inhaled slowly as he stopped before her. He tossed the gun in his hand flipping it so the barrel was facing him. Patrick took his left hand and grabbed her right hand before putting the gun in her hand. After, he would raise her hand, his hands now holding onto the barrel of the gun. He would hold the gun up to chest level, placing it over his heart. After a moment he would finally answer her, "Justice."
His voice would be calm, how he wanted to meet his end. He deserved this, and who better to give him his justice then one of the people whom he had harmed the most, "I've done so much harm to ye, and to others. I'm a murder, a fiend. I need to face up to what I've done... and what I've failed to do."
There was a hint of pain in his voice at his last statement but his resolve remained. He was sure of it. There was nothing left for him in life now. Nothing but this...
"So do it, pull the trigger."
|
|
▲
WHY DO THINGS I LOVE RUN FROM ME?[A1i:2] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Nova Bryant on Dec 22, 2010 17:35:55 GMT -8
Nova was nervous, although she was able to keep it in check.. Which was rather difficult. Who would be able to keep their cool near a dangerous person? Well, there were probably some who could, sadly, Nova wasn't one of them. She clasped her hands tightly, taking a deep breath, she'd try to calm her mind. As she exhaled her grip loosened and her hands flattened once more. She stood sill, her arms at her sides, and green eyes locked on 'him'. The silence was making her restless... What was he thinking? what did he want? Why was he here? Many other questions ran through he remind.. of course none with had answers. All the girl could do was hope.
Maybe things would go well.
Doubtful.
She barely got out of their last encounter alive... Chances were slim to none. He started moving, reaching for his shirt and lifting, pulling a gun out from nowhere. Fear riddled the girl, her body screamed to move, yet her legs wouldn't respond. Like a deer in the headlights, the dark haired girl was frozen in shock. What was he planing on doing? Finishing the job!?! terrified green eyes watched as the raven haired young man fiddled about with a gun. Loading it and reaching out for her.
Why?
Still frozen, Nova watched with a frown as he'd reach for her trembling hand and place a gun in it. Raising her hand and bringing the gun up to wards the level of his heart. That was certainly a twist, nothing Nova would have expected. Surely the way the situation had been unfolding it would have meant her doom... What?
Justice?
Listening to the tone in the voice of her tormentor, Nova couldn`t help but wonder why? What made him think that she would take his life? Surely that would put her down on to his level. Killing a person was never good, it was a sin, even if they had asked for it. To stain her hands with the blood of someone who brought a never ending wave of nightmares to the uneasy sleep she had been getting for the past year and a half; That wouldn't bring her justice. His tone changed, from something calm to the faint sound of pain. Did he really wish to die? Or was he merely repenting in the only way he could think of?
Or was it all a trick?
His voice said it wasn't yet the untrusting thoughts in Nova's mind said other wise. Of course being who she was, Nova took a few steps back. Gasping the gun tightly in her hands as she looked upon Patrick with stern a stern stare. Was she going to kill him? Could she really murder someone? Even if they had asked for it and done such horrible things? Was it her duty to take revenge on him for her and the others?
Shaking her eyes, the dark haired girl smiled a little. Maybe it was a selfish way of thinking... "No, I can't kill you..." The fear was fading, yet it was still there. Of course no one could resolve with their demons moments after facing them. To become fearless in mere seconds when faced with the choice to get 'justice'. Was it even justice? Was taking a human life worth the time she lived hidden in the shadows, her lost year, and the hours of torment she had endured? Would it give her happiness and a sense of safety?
"Even though you ask it of me to perform such a thing.. I can not take your life. Is getting justice in your opinion killing the person? One only can then realize they had sunk down to the level of a murderer? To find justice is not to stain their hands with the blood of their foe. But to come to terms with their villain, especially when they come to you seeking their exit from this life." She'd pause, wondering if her words were clear. perhaps they sounded righteous or something, it didn't matter to her. Nova was merely speaking her mind, something that she had long since forgotten how to do. Her words slowly became a little more confident. Perhaps it was because of the actions of 'him'.
"To kill you would mean to bring upon a new ghost to the nightmares." She'd smile, perhaps it wasn't right to do so. It was just the oddest feeling. Although she was still afraid, there was some kind of calming feeling about hearing the pain in his voice. Was that something a person really could fake? "Everyone deserves another chance." Saying second never really seemed to fit, since it always appeared that everyone was on their third or fourth. Maybe old forgiving Nova, would always be forging.... Even to 'him'. "I'm sorry." There was a little bit of warmth in her voice. To see someone once to scary in such a state, it kind of made her sad..
All she could do was apologize.
[[SORRU XD;;; I got a little ...XD;;; I rambled.]]
|
|
▲
And by my own admission you'll find that my condition is worse then you imagined[A1i:8] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Patrick O'Connor on Feb 9, 2011 21:20:05 GMT -8
Even though you ask it of me to perform such a thing.. I can not take your life. Is getting justice in your opinion killing the person? One only can then realize they had sunk down to the level of a murderer? To find justice is not to stain their hands with the blood of their foe.
"Murder, killing, and justice. They're not the same thing," said the irishman with the gun to his chest, "Take it from someone who's dabbled in all of them. I see that now. And that's why I can stand here. I'm a murderer. A psycho. I've killed people, tortured them in horrible ways just to watch them die, to watch them lose hope and give up the will to live themselves. The murder ends lives for no purpose that is justifiable. The lives that they end are profitable. A killer, they kill out of necessity. Ye wouldn't say that a man who kills the murderer to preserve his own life is now a murderer would ye? No. Justice. Justice is merely the idea and concept that everyone is responsible fer their actions. Justice say that people have to pay fer what they've done. They have to face the consequences. This is not just fer themselves but fer their victims as well. The victims that have had their lives altered to a point that they are no longer recognizable or in some cases no longer existent. Is it just that the guilty walk away with no compensation given? No amount of money or time outs can make up fer what he's done. Justice is not for the guilty alone but the victim as well."
Patrick sighed. He'd wronged so many people in the last three odd years and this girl was just the tip of the iceberg. He savagely beat a blind kid within an inch of his life and then lit him on fire in the school cafeteria. He couldn't even remember why he had done it. Patrick thought it had something to do with the kid suggesting that it was unwise to drink on the school grounds. The irishman remembered the time that he shoved a knife down a drug dealer's throat just to take what he wanted. Patrick had had the money. How many people had Patrick maimed or killed just because they had gotten in his way or tried to pick a petty fight with him? He didn't know, he had stopped counting the bodies long ago.
"Everyone deserves another chance."
"Oh?" Patrick asked, "Are ye sure about that? That's a big generalization. What about the serial murderers? The serial rapists? The people that if ye turned yer back on would do the same again and again? That gun that yer holding now can attest to the fact that I've seen it many times. Walking back home on a late night, the same filth doing the same shit everyday. Day in a day out. Ye've beat them a few times. Stopped their tirade fer a day, a week but they always come back. Their's only one solution to that problem. That gun that yer holding was my solution."
Patrick paused before calmly continuing, "And now I've become that filth. I'm that sickness. A life is meaningless to me now. I feel nothing when I kill and it comes just as easily to me as breathing. When I fight I have to consciously observe my actions or I'll probably kill the other person, and on many occasions have. I know now that I'll kill another person. It's inevitable."
"Maybe this will haunt yer dreams, but maybe not. Regardless there are more people then yerself out there that have been harmed by me in ways more unspeakable then I've described to ye. Ye know I'm going to kill again regardless of me intentions. Maybe they'll be deserving of it or maybe it'll be another murder."
Patrick sighed. He wanted to be free. Free from it all. Free from the pain. Free from the fear. Free from running from his past. Nova had given him a sudden shock. He had not expected to meet her her. Patrick honestly not expected her to be alive. If there was one thing that Patrick had learned today it was that he could not run from his past. He could not get away from the things that he had done.
He tightened his grip on the barrel of the gun she was holding.
"Do it," He whispered, desperation in his voice...
|
|
▲
WHY DO THINGS I LOVE RUN FROM ME?[A1i:2] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Nova Bryant on Feb 15, 2011 3:17:07 GMT -8
He was right.
Nova of course didn't want to admit that, she always believed in helping people, forgiving people, no matter what. Although, that was in what had wronged her, others would have gladly taken his life, especially if they had caused the deaths of their loved ones. but she wasn't them. Looking down she shook her head. There was no way Nova Bryant would ever take the life of another person, it was wrong. No matter what.
Nova listened to his words, she was sad and kind of scared again. She didn't like being that close to him and at the same time, she didn't want to see a person die. He'd kill again? Hadn't he learned anything... Maybe he was just one of those people who had difficulty changing. Who knew? Looking down at the ground, she left the tone in his voice rip through her heart. He wanted to die that badly?
Do it.
Shaking her head, the dark haired girl tried to pull the gun away, his grip on it was tight. she didn't want to let it go, he'd run off wouldn't he? Surely someone else would kill him. No! It made her sad to think he'd die... even though it would seem he deserved it. Not in her eyes, but the worlds. Nova wasn't going to let him get away.
Of course attempts at helping can go horribly wrong.
"I'm not going to kill you!" She'd try and tug the gun away, pulling it with all her strength. It lowered, but her fingers in desperation to free it, they pulled the trigger. BANG! The firing rang through her head. It was almost deafening. Frozen in shock and confusion, Nova was afraid to look.
"Are you okay?" Words forced out were shaky. Strength was slowly leaving her body, she'd drop to her knees. "Please answer me!" She'd cry out seconds after asking.
I did that on purpose... didn't I?
Fear gripped the girl, she was terrified to think that she had actually shot someone out of hate. Did she hate him? was the worry she had earlier only her trying to be a good person? Did she really not want to kill him? Eyes watering, she'd let go of the gun. Still too afraid to even look.
[[OOC: SORRY FOR FAIL AND WAIT -dies-]]
|
|
▲
And by my own admission you'll find that my condition is worse then you imagined[A1i:8] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Patrick O'Connor on Feb 18, 2011 15:47:59 GMT -8
"I'm not going to kill you!"
'Damn.' was the first thought to go through Patrick's mind, though he kept his grip on the gun absentmindedly. He sighed, perhaps he was supposed to live one after all, even against his own will. Tragic really. Did no one give a damn about justice anymore? Was the only one who believed it to be necessary the monster himself? What a juxtaposition.
Patrick was lost in thought just enough that he didn't notice her attempt to pull the gun away. With his grip and her pull, with the finger on the trigger, the gun fired. The loud crack filled the silence replacing it with the distinct, almost sweet smell of gunpowder. There was a sound of the bullet hitting Patrick in the stomach tearing through flesh as he gave a forceful exhale as if he had just been punched in the gut harder than anyone had hit him before, a look of surprise registering on the Irishman's face.
Patrick let go of the gun, taking a step back from the force of the round. His left hand went down to his stomach where the bullet had hit him. Patrick put his two fingers on his wound feeling that warm crimson fluid. Removing his hand Patrick looked down at the blood on his fingers then he looked at Nova with surprise. He didn't think she was going to do it. Then again she wasn't looking at him so maybe she didn't actually mean it. Nova dropped to the ground and Patrick chuckled, "And I'm the one with the bullet in me."
"Are you okay? Please answer me!"
Patrick didn't answer, standing in silence for a few moments. It was strange. He had been shot before, and yes it had hurt like hell. Though this time it didn't hurt. He didn't feel the pain. Which was funny because this 45 caliber round was the highest caliber he had been hit with without body armor before. He turned his head and saw the spray of blood on the wall behind him noticing that the bullet had made a clean exit through him and into the wall behind him. Patrick had to chuckle again. For the first time in nearly four years he felt at peace.
"Yer my goddamn hero," Patrick said with a smile before the strength left his legs and he collapsed to the ground. He stared skyward as his eyes slowly started to glaze as his blood started to pool around him. He still wore a smile on his face. He knew he had some time before he died but still.
After all these years Patrick O'Connor was going home...
|
|
▲
WHY DO THINGS I LOVE RUN FROM ME?[A1i:2] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Nova Bryant on Feb 20, 2011 6:02:58 GMT -8
it took a moment or two for her to snap out of it! Opening her eyes, the girl looked up to see him. He was holding his stomach, and laughing. How could a person who was shot laugh? Getting to her feet quickly, so to try and help him. All the while praying that it was nothing serious. Her mind wishing for it, although logic and the blood on the wall told her other wise. he'd fall to the ground, making a comment on how he was the one with the bullet in him.
Hero? her?
She had shot him out of terror and anger! Yes, that didn't make her a hero. Well, not in her point of view. The hero's in comics never killed, or did they? Or if they did, they'd give up and cape and live with it in their minds forever. Like Wonder Woman! Of course she wasn't a super hero, so her random train of thoughts went nowhere. taking off her sweater she'd drop to her knees.
That's how it went in movies, right? Stop the bleeding with pressure and dry material? Grabbing her cell phone fro the pocket, she'd quickly dial and throw th phone on the ground beside her, leaning over him, her shaky hands tried to shift him on his good side, so she could put some of the sweater under him.
"Hello?"
"Help....I need an ambulance to the field of public high school two five nine..." She'd speak quickly voice trembling as her hands coated red from pressing down on the bullet wound. Tears streaming down her face. "Don't die! Please don't die! Please!"
What am I doing?
What if they don't get here in time!
"Please!! Hurry!" The girl cried out, shaking her head as she looked at 'him'. The one who she feared the most... He was bleeding, probably to death.... and she was trying to save him. People are confusing, especially since she had been the one who shot him. It was kind of silly, she was crying, where as he seemed to accept he was dying. Then again, he had wanted it...
"I'm so sorry."
|
|
▲
And by my own admission you'll find that my condition is worse then you imagined[A1i:8] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Patrick O'Connor on Feb 20, 2011 16:35:57 GMT -8
The sun seemed so bright. The clouds were a fluffy white. There was a gentle breeze that rolled in, bringing the smell of the grass. By all rights it was a beautiful day. Patrick gave another weak chuckle, it was the first time in years that he had noticed that. He had never really had time to notice that before. He had always been wrapped up in either his own pain or in some sort of struggle to stay alive. It was amusing that it took death for him to realize how beautiful this world could be. The situation though had a hint of surreality to it as well. Here he was on this beautiful day, lying on the soft grass while Nova tried desperately to call for help and keep him from dying. It was like her voice was a mile off though, in another world. Patrick smiled as he looked up into the sun, doing nothing to prevent his foreseeable death.
All good things must come to an end though huh? A woman appeared standing over Patrick, her head covering his sun but the brightness of the sun shaded her face in contrast. The red hair gave everything away though, it was Zea. Patrick was glad he couldn't see her face, he didn't deserve it. Then again he felt a little giddy. Perhaps he would finally get to see her today. He had paid for what he had done right? By being shot by one of the people that he had so grievously injured? Regardless he still had to ask, "Will I get to see ye today? Have I finally paid fer what I did to ye Zea?"
"No Patrick," Zea replied neutrally, somewhat annoyed that he didn't get it, "You won't."
"What do ye mean?" Patrick asked, a frown coming to his face for the first time today, the foot of reality, "I haven't paid enough have I?"
"Patrick," Zea replied with somber tones, knowing what was coming.
"Obvious really," Patrick sighed, "I think I knew it deep down. That there was no redemption fer what I did to ye. I guess I just held on to that blind belief. Pathetic. I think I know now."
"Patrick." Zea said with some impatience as he never seemed to listen to what she was really trying to say.
"There's no room fer me in heaven," Patrick said with an eerie, defeated calm, "Only hell."
"No Patrick," Zea finally said annoyed, getting Patrick's attention for the first time, "It's not your time. Today you have to go on."
"Really?," Patrick asked somewhat dejectedly. Even though he was sure he was going to hell it didn't matter. It's not like he was in a rush to get there he was just tired of struggling. He was tired of struggling on, day after day, year after year.
"Yes Patrick, you need to move forward."
"Fuck Zea," Patrick said with some exasperation, "Don't ye see that I don't want to move on? I don't want to struggle forward. I'm tired of this shit. I just want what's coming to me!"
"You don't have a choice Patrick, I'm sorry," Zea said softly, she knew just how tired he was but it wasn't up to her to give him rest. Just as it wasn't up to him to go to hell.
"Did I ever have a choice?" Patrick asked, tears in his eyes before he got to the heart of the matter, "Did I ever have a chance Zea? Or was I fuckin' doomed from the start?"
"You have a chance now Patrick, " Zea said as she dissappeared back into the recesses of his mind.
Patrick sighed. And now, he was pissed. His left hand slapping down on the makeshift bandage that she weakly held on to him he sat up as he said, "Fuck it."
The years old stare of a man who refused to die because he wasn't finished yet, was back.
He looked at Nova for the first time with eyes that were neither filled with hate or hopeless determination. This time his eyes were filled with the determination to take this chance that Zea had seemingly promised him. But shit, she better not be lying to him.
"Okay Nova," Patrick said calmly, "Here's what I need ye to do. The medics are coming and the wounds treated fairly well fer the time. What I need ye to do is go to the woman's bathroom with this gun and shell. What I want ye to do is place this gun and shell on one of the ceiling tiles. Just push the tile up, slide it so ye can place them on another tile and then slide the tile back so no one knows. Ye should be able to do it and get back in time before the medics get here. And oh, ye should was yer hands too."
Washing her hands would clean off any of the powder that would be on them making it harder to prove that she did it. Getting rid of the shell would hide the gun further. This was slightly to protect her because how did she shoot a gun that they couldn't find and didn't exist? But more over this was to protect Patrick. He had killed a lot of people with that gun in a lot of open cases. It was best that that exact gun not be linked here. And the gun? well in addition to getting rid of the weapon, well hell. He liked that gun. That was most of it.
If she went and did what he told her to do Patrick would lie back down, letting obscenities roll from his mouth. About how he didn't want to do this and how now he was starting to feel some pain. Now that he knew that he was sure he was going to live on, shit, that hurt...
|
|
▲
WHY DO THINGS I LOVE RUN FROM ME?[A1i:2] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
|
Post by Nova Bryant on Feb 21, 2011 3:17:32 GMT -8
He was quiet, that was scaring her. There was no way he'd die, not at her hands. Surely the medics would arrive. They would, right? In her panic and over her racing heart, she couldn't hear the sound of her cell phone anymore. Maybe her phone died, it barely had any charge, who knew. They'd appear and save 'him',right? She could only hope so. She was the one making the most fussy, cryer and being so worrried when he didn't even seem sad. Mind you, she couldn't tell if he was all there at the moment. Maybe thinking of a better place?
Movement! Looking at him, she watch as... what was his name again? At the moment, the name slipped from her mind, if she even knew it. He sat up and put his hand to her sweater. What what? Followed by cussing. What happened, there was no hopeless sadness, no joy to be passing. It was determination of sorts? Did he want to live? what happened in the span of time he was 'dying'?
Words spoken so calmly, made her wonder if this sort of thing was normal for him. Mostly it made her feel way better, he wasn't going to die... Listening silently, she'd nod and get to her feet, looking to him for a moment before picking up the gun and taking off. Taking the stairs up to the second floor, which should be empty, which meant the washroom would be a good pplace to be. No people to see the goings on, right? At least it was all she could hope for.
Getting to the bathroom, she'd open a stall and lock the door behind her. School bathrooms, here the toilet had no cover.. Great. Wait....... Washing her hand's first, she'd run back into the stall and push up a tile and step up onto the toilet seat, reaching up with the gun in hand, She'd put it up on the next tile before setting the one back in place and stepping down. Grabbing toilet paper to wipe the footprints from the toliet seat. One last washing of her hands, and she was gone, down the stairs and out the doors.
By the time she was running back to her side, it kicked in. She had shot him, that was against the law... and she hide the evidence. Sure, he was going to live, but she didn't like that on her mind. She shot him? Why because he did something to her almost a year and a half...or more ago. What did that say about her? That she acting without thinking? What about the medics, what were they going to tell them. Nova was terrified. She stood silently near him.
|
|