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/qst/ - Quests

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=Thread 8=
You are Delilah, an unfortunate runaway with a strange and terrible affliction. There's plenty of hate and misery twisting inside of you due to the transgressions thrust upon you, but there is still a sliver of hope. Will you find your happiness in the end, or succumb to the evils of the world?

=Important Info=
Story Thus Far (Raw): http://pastebin.com/WnGZwK04 (embed) (embed)
There will, hopefully soon, be a much easier to read version of this, if I stop being lazy.

Quick Glance (SPOILERS); https://docs.google.com/document/d/1wXNWJdAKuqw-btrHDbvSkN5Gj3QhdY28XNKRUXMLHu0/edit#heading=h.8xfgre7nxqty
The quick Who is Who and what Delilah has. Mostly accurate.
Twitter; @Cowboy_Sue
Discord; https://discord.gg/0107qV9kiFDlUH9nY
Chat with me and some of the other players, I also post a lot of dumb doodles and answer some questions related to the quest here.

Previous Thread: >>160852>>160852>>160852
"We should head out now...go see Bower. I'm ready." Your voice wavers on the last word, but you keep your face straight. It's time for you to be strong, to get through this, no matter how difficult it is. Something like the bat might bring more problems then it's worth, but you still keep your pockets full. Money, pepper-spray, and the knife. Bundle up, keep your face and hair hidden away, jacket buttoned up all the way. You pull out the list you made and point out Bower's address.

"I have no clue where this is...do you?" Lawrence takes the page and looks closer at the writing and he begins to mentally map. There's a sinking feeling when his face turns sour as he nods.

Sleazy ass part of town, unfortunately. During the day it's usually fine, but at night that's when all the scumbags crawl out. Whatever you do, stay close to me when we get there, don't run off no matter what, understand?

"I was planning to do that already, but thanks for the warning. Are you taking...those?" To answer your question Lawrence pat his coat pocket, a thudding noise beneath his fingers. You take extra care when leaving the school, taking a note of any nearby vehicles. Maybe it was just a creep following them...

For the first hour and a half, you two walk through familiar enough territory. Apartment blocks that you feel comfortable enough walking down, not really wealthy but they look safe enough. The small shopping district after, a community center paired with it across the road. Any spot for grass is covered with cold concrete, but nothing awful. There are a few more apartment complexes and even a few small houses here and there, but you wonder if Lawrence was just overreacting or remembering incorrectly. It's when you hit the next rows of shopping areas that you notice the slight shift. Cheap looking liquor stores, electronic shops with bars over the windows, a vandalized store front with slurs you don't understand. A man much too thin to be healthy and shaky with each step comes in your direction, but Lawrence grabs your hand and pulls you past him. The change from there is much less subtle. Posters will scantily clad women adorn brick walls, advertising for special 'shows'. Large and gaudy neon signs start leading the front of more and more buildings, but with them turned off in the daytime it's hard to see what they are advertising. The people you pass by are much rougher looking before, and you doubt it's because any of them are homeless. Harsh words pass by as you walk, it sounds like there might be a fight down an alley, the apartments built above the businesses are cheaper and look like they could break down at the slightest touch. When you see an empty glass bottle break against one across the street, you learn that they have probably stood up to plenty of abuse.

The entire time Lawrence keeps a firm hold on your hand, pulling you to the other side or in front of him when needed. At least one man calls out to him, but you doubt that he actually knows Lawrence. Still you are dutifully led through the hellish scenes.

Bower's business is on the edge of all this, a big road separating his pristine white building from the dirty underbelly. You can see there are more buildings after his, ones that are probably a bit more...respectable, then the ones you have just passed. Lawrence stops before you cross the road, keeping a hold of your hand as he writes with the other one.

How do you want to approach this?
Start to regret this. This is too much. Too close. He... he's going to...
Hold it together, you've come too far to let this son-of-a-bitch go free. Whether you spill his blood or not, you are getting some goddamn answers.
We need answers.
In addition, we should approach this extremely carefully so we have the best chance of actually getting them. Watch people come and go, once we recognize Bower we should follow him until we can confront him somewhere away from people.
Go back and get the tub that John washes potatoes in. Alternatively, go in with Lawrence while remaining covered up and see if Bower is available for a walk-in appointment at some point today. If not we might have to tie up the person at the front desk, lock the front door, and look for Bower, or if there's too many people around we can wait and ambush him at his car when it gets late. If we do the ambush we can get the info we need, cut off his balls, then take his car and use it to drive past the bad neighborhood.
Seconding the tub quest.
Holy shit what a slow ass quest.
Sue usually replies faster when she's not asleep.
>Create thread
>Go to sleep
Shit QM confirmed.
Especially when doesn't give us /u/pdates
Stake out the place until we see Bower leave
Follow him and grab him when he's alone and take him somewhere off the street where we wont be seen or heard.
Just looking at the building, knowing who may inside...

Scares the living hell out of you.

From the note you look back up at the place, your hand shaking with an uncontrollable shiver. He's going to be in there, he's going to be in there waiting for you. Bower is bound to remember you, bound to remember the things he's done, remember the way he took advantage of your body while there was nothing you could do to stop it for so long.

We don't have to do this, you don't look ready yet. We can go back.

"N-....no....no no no..." You try to steady yourself. "I...n-need to s-s-see him..."

This can't be good for you, there's no shame in trying later.

"I h-have to do this...I h-have to..."

You don't want to.

"L-....l-lead the w-way and I'll f-follow behind y-you...w-we can just see if h-h-he is here..." You sound like a child right now, but you can't stop yourself. Lawrence looks down at you with a look that says 'you're not okay, this is not okay'. Instead of trying to stop you, he squeezes your hand tightly. You pull your hat down lower in an attempt to hide your face and the tears threatening to fall.

Cars are continuously passing the road and it takes a good amount of time to let an opportunity to cross. Every step you take to carry you closer just causes your heart to feel like it may explode at any moment, that there are stones being thrown into your stomach. You feel sick, you feel scared, your head hurts, you don't want to do this. As you stand on the sidewalk outside the building, large windows allow you to see in. There's a front desk, a lady working the phones. You see a few other people walking in the background, not many. They look to be mostly employees, maybe a patient or two. No Bower though.

"L-...let's just s-see if he's h-here first...t-then we can come back out and f-figure out what to d-do from th-there..."

A squeeze of your hand and the chime of a door opening. The woman smiles as you come in, though she makes you wait while she finishes the conversation on the phone.

"Ah, sorry about the wait! How may I help you?" Her eyes glance from Lawrence to you. You try to speak up, to ask if Bower is in, but your voice is caught in your throat. You can't focus right now...

You just stand there, slightly behind Lawrence, as he writes.

"Dr. Bower? I'm afraid he's out to lunch right now, but he should be coming back at any moment. If you like, I can set up a consultation for when he comes back, he loves meeting with patients."

What would you like to do?
Get closer to Lawrence for a sense of safety.Tug his sleeve and nod.
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Bully Marylin for bullying us

Say "Hello. my name is Delilah Esposito. You killed my father. Prepare to die."
You press against Lawrence's back and nod at him to continue, not letting go of his arm.

"Alright then, I'll just need a name...alright....now let me put you in...okay! Dr. Bower will be with you after he comes back Mr. Talbot." The receptionist smiles at you and motions to the waiting area. You keep a close grip on his arm as you go to sit down. Nice chairs in a semi secluded area, you sit so you can see whoever comes in through the door. You let go of his arm even though you really don't want to. In response Lawrence pulls it around your shoulder, acting like a shield from your unseen fear. You allow this, the closeness comforting even though the rest of you is full of fear.

We can always leave when you want.

You nod but keep quiet, scared to speak up, as if you're afraid Bower has ears in the walls. A radio plays music from above you, some generic waiting room sounds. Every time someone passes by the door, your heart catches in your throat. You hug yourself, attempting to keep your body as small as possible. You're just begging to get swallowed up, to be taken away from here.

When is he going to come in...when is he going to walk through those doors...just...just calm down...prepare yourself for this...it...it'll be okay...you have someone here to help...Lawrence is here to help...stop shaking...stop it...

"Oh, welcome back Doctor!" You hear the receptionist and a door open from the back. "How was your lunch?"

"Oh good good, took the missus out. Does she have an appetite, let me tell you." There's the sound of gruff laughing and you freeze up again.

"Ah, by the way. You have a consultation waiting right now."

"Great! Just send them to my office and I will meet them in there!"

You hear the man, Bower, walking away. He came in through the back...

The receptionist comes up to where you two are waiting, that warm smile still on her face.

"Dr. Bower is ready to see you now, if you want to come this way."

What do you do?
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There was a point where we should've retreated from this, but let's just keep going and see what happens.
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Lets go right that way!
Hopefully the clinic has thick walls.
Hold Lawrence's hand and let him do the... writing. Just try to concentrate on our emotions and keep them in check.
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I think we are past the point we should have stopped but we got to see how this goes so squeeze the Law's hand and hide behind as we enter.
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C'mon Delilah. Curl into a ball and cry.
Lawrence is looking down at you, waiting for your answer. It feels like your chest will just explode at any moment, that you're going to just die right there. You can't understand why you shake your head 'yes', even Lawrence can see this is a bad idea. Your legs are knocking together as you stand, though you're only able to stay upright because you are desperately gripping to Lawrence's side. He almost has to carry you as your led down the small hallway, pictures of the man who raped you on the wall smiling with different doctors and patients. He's all around you, ready to pounce.

"If you just wait in here, the doctor will be in a moment." The lady offers you another smile, but of course you can't return it. How could she work for someone so awful like Bower and keep that happy look on her face. When you don't return her hospitality her face falters a bit, the slight shimmer of pity replacing her smile.

Lawrence walks you into the room and the door closes behind you. There are three chairs seated in front of a heavy wooden desk covered in files and papers, a big phone on the corner. A picture frame shows the image of a happy Bower and a woman about his age smiling with neon lights in the background. Big shelves fill up most of the empty walls, books and folders crammed inside.

If this man hadn't fucked you then it would feel like a normal office.

You both remain standing and your grip on Lawrence only increases, your body shaking badly.

The sound of two people conversing outside the door break the silence. It sounds like a woman and....and Bower...from what you can tell they are just discussing another patient or something.

God, you are terrified.

He's about to come in here. That terrible awful man is about to come face to face with you.

You hear him laughing, your grip on Lawrence must be hurting at this point, it's like you're hanging on to him for dear life.

What do you want to say to Lawrence before Bower comes in?
It's too late. He's right there, outside the door like before, he's going to... Lawrence has to... he has to stop him. But we need our answers. We need to know why. He has to answer. Lawrence has to help get the answers. Bower can't hurt us again.
"I might do some bad things to him, and I don't want you to stop me this time."
"Get out of here."

We shouldn't get Lawrence dragged into a fight we picked. This is on us. Our war to finish.
Do you want Delilah locked up in a rape dungeon? Because that's how you get Delilah locked up in a rape dungeon.

What the fuck.
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Oh it's far too late for that Anon, we're all in it together now!
Delilah wakes up safe and sound with her parent and definitely not pregnant or raped. And all of this was a very bad dream.

The End.
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If we exploit the shock that will assuredly come over him we can assuredly incapacitate him with a few well places strikes of the knife. Ask our questions, then finish the job as we will.

In any case Lawrence has done nothing but try to prevent this, he doesn't deserve to go to jail.

>pic related
Oh, I see, you haven't read the part where she's not in any state to become a stone-cold serial killer.

Good to know.
3/10 not enough hand holding.
we should make a rap about Delilah being a stone cold killa.
What would bower look like?

If he ain't a dude with no visible eyes/hair obscuring it or a fat balding old man, it will be missed opportunities.
Delilah wakes up and noticed she's holding hands with... Marylin

Is it normal when they stick it in where you poop.
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Why do you seem to have a stick up your ass? Stop speaking authoritatively and let the author handle the response without trying to enforce the "correct" response all the time.
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Alright I change my response, this is pretty great.
I'm not trying to enforce correct responses. I'm making everyone point at you and laugh.
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>stop suggesting things I don't like
>l-look at this faggot, w-what a jo-oke, am I rite u guis?

I think you're taking this too seriously, step away from the keyboard for a second and think about what you just posted.

Make the changes that need to be made, and when you're done we can share this little quest amicably.
At least I didn't get intestinally incinerated over abortions.
They just keep getting smugger.
Dude chill out seriously, I can't say I agree with >>177762 either, but I'm not being a little bitch about it.

You too.

Do our best to remain at least composed enough to speak, and try to get some answers. Lawrence will protect us is something goes really wrong, but I don't think Bower would pull something in his own office. plot twist: he has a sex dungeon in the basement
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You attempt to speak up, to say something to Lawrence, anything at this point. This was a bad idea, you need to turn, you need to go, you need t-

The door behinds you swings open and it feels like your soul drops through the floor.

"Ah yes, Mr. Talbot? You're my current consultation?" Bower comes up, closing the door behind him, and Lawrence quickly slides you behind him. The doctor has a hand out for a greeting, Lawrence returns it but there is a death glare radiating from his eyes.

"Eh...strong grip you got there sonny..." Bower's pulls his hand away and tries to look at you. "Brought the missus out with you too, huh? Well what a trip to take, here at my humble office."

Bower's continues to his desk. You can see a large bandage covering the back of his balding head...that's right...from the result of your vase. He plops himself down in the big chair behind the desk, gesturing at the two of you to sit. Lawrence remains standing and so do you. You can barely hear the man's words over the beating in your ears...the pounding in your head...the sickness in your stomach...

"Quiet pair, aren't you?" Even though Lawrence is shielding you away, the eyes of Bower feel like they are absolutely burning into your very being.

"Well, I can't offer any advice till I know what's wrong with you. Heck, I don't even know for sure which one I'm supposed to be working on...is it you, little girl?"

You want to throw up.

"Why don't you show me your face? I'm sure it's very pretty, but I'm sure I could make it even prettier...Delilah."

Bile rises in your mouth and the ground below you begins to spin. You can feel Lawrence tensing up, his fist balling up tightly.

"Do you think I could forget a girl as pretty as yourself? I know you don't remember most of it, but we even spent those wonderful couple of weeks together."

You start to back up as he speaks, his wrinkled blue eyes starring directly at you. Lawrence tries to pull you towards him, but you just...you can't...
"I really wish our last night together had gone better though. I really do, you left me with a nasty cut you know. Took me a couple stitches, but don't you worry about it. Forgive and forget, right? Though, I don't know if I could forgive you breaking the nice vase I brought you. I figured a girl like you would love to wake up to flowers, even if they were plastic. "

Into a corner...don't throw up...don't...fuck...fuck...stop looking...stop looking with those hungry eyes...

Lawrence has rushed to Bower's desk, his hand at his collar pulling him out of his seat. Bower looks surprised by this action but there's no fear to be found in his face.

"Big fellow, aren't you? Well this behavior in my office will not stand..."


You see a flash of a white blue and Bower's hand against Lawrence's stomach. You can only watch as your friend bends over a bit, gritting his teeth and attempting to keep his hold. Another flash of light, this time lasting much longer. As seconds pass Lawrence releases his grip, backing away and gripping his stomach, stumbling to a knee. The loud zapping noise fills the room as he is once again hit with the stun gun, this time to his back.

Oh god...oh god is it going to kill him...?

Bower finally pulls away the gun and shows it off to you, Lawrence's body twitching on the floor as he tries and fails to rise.

"Pretty neat, isn't it? Had to carry one around with me when someone tried to get the keys to my car coming in to work one day. Never thought I would actually use it inside. Or that you would come back to me." Bower steps over Lawrence, coming over to you.

"D-Doctor? Are you alright? T-the door is locked..." The receptionist's voice calls out from behind the door, worry in her words.

"It's fine it's fine. Just had a little accident, no need to be concerned." Bower's answers for you, and you can hear the woman walking away.

What do you do?
But is he big boned and of an older age than our dad?

Well simple, ask why did you do those things and what is the ailment
I don't think there's any way to really respond. You could scream, but the walls are probably pretty thick.

Make a distraction, enough to give Lawrence a chance to get back up. There's only so many charges in those little shit boxes.

The dude's a sociopath, there's no answers to be had. He's hurt Lawrence, now, now we figure out how to kill Bower.
Now is not the time for fear that can come later. We have to achieve several things within the next few minutes of this exchange. We need to take Bower's attention off of Law who is clearly not unconscious but simply incapacitated. We also still need our answers, so let's ask. The longer we hold Bower's attention the longer Law will have to recover from the shocks.
This isn't how it was supposed to happen. Anything but Bower getting to hurt us again was supposed to happen.

Back away, silently begging for Lawren-wait! The pepper spray! If we can just... get it and... make sure to point it away? Like a can of paint?

Just... away from Lawrence and get Bower close enough for the spray.

... please get up, Lawrence.
Pepper spray, then SCREAM. Also, if we stun him with the pepper spray we might be able to get the taser from him.

Only use the knife if necessary. It probably will be ;_;
Or this, but I honestly don't think we're calm enough
Answers then we season him with pepper.
Your eyes shift over to Lawrence as he is attempting to steady himself. It seems like he can't use his body properly, he keeps falling back down, unable to get proper footing. If...if you can just distract Bower enough...then Lawrence should be able to do something...anything...

Can you?

Yes...yes you need to do something...anything.

Lord, even if it's the smallest bit, take all of your luck and give it to your friend...and please forgive you for anything that may happen.

You slip your hand into the pocket of your jacket, tightly grasping the plastic cylinder. Remember how grandmother told you to use it...just wait for the right moment...

"Why...w-why me?" You don't know what answers you can get right now, but if anything you can get a distraction going.

"Ever since Don showed me those cute pictures of you..." Bower kneels down in front of you, a disgusting pudgy hand coming to grab your chin, a thumb dragging across your bottom lip. "I just knew that a pretty girl like you would fill my life with joy."

You can't stand to look at this man, you try to glance back at Lawrence without being obvious. He's managing to stand with the assistance of the desk, but his legs are still weak.

Jesus, he looks pissed.

You push Bower hard, toppling him to the ground. Before he can register what you have done, the spray is in your hand and a dark cloud choking him.

"YOU LITTLE BITCH!" He squeezes out the words, and Lawrence takes his chance. His arm wraps around Bower's thick neck, pulling hard, an intense anger and snarl on his face. Lawrence looks up at you, and his eyes soften, but only a bit. His grip on Bower loosens just enough to keep the man from suffocating. You need to get help now...you need to...

You scramble up to the door, unlocking it and swinging it wide open.

The young receptionist is waiting outside, holding a minuscule gun in her shaking hands.

"W-what's going on?" Her voice shakes as much as her hands, as she looks between you and the men behind you.

What do you do?

Sorry about the wait, computer problems.
Tell her her fat pig of a boss had been raping us for weeks. She has to help.
Tell her that Bower attacked you. Also try to get her to drop the gun!
Point to Bower and scream, as loud as possible, "THIS MAN RAPED ME!"

Running is a bad idea. The receptionist is nervous and has a gun, and Lawrence is busy with Bower.
Get between her and Law so she can't get a clear shot at him, explain what Bower has been doing. Repeat that she shouldn't shoot, that Law isn't going to hurt Bower as long as he doesn't try to run away.
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Not caught up yet, but drew this cause I was bored and decided to post it here. Sorry it's nothing original, I can't really anything unless it's something I have in front of me. Drawn on a whiteboard.
Woah there, now's about the time where somebody can die. Handle this carefully.

We gotta calm the receptionist down, Lawrence and you weren't here to hurt anybody. Don't let Lawrence loosen his grip. If possible, he should bring Bower forward and in front of him as a meat shield. Ask her calmly to put the gun down.

In hindsight, we should've brought Law's Loot Crew along for the ride.
Somehow I have the feeling the receptionist is in on it.

Call it a hunch from every other time we tried to get help from a stranger.
You can see that the gun is pointed at Lawrence...you can't let him get hurt anymore. The pepper spray remains in your hands, but you place yourself in the space between the barrel and Lawrence.

"Th-...this man...this...this pig...!" Anger begins to surge in your voice.

"He's...he's raped me. For two months he's h-hurt me and he's let others do the same...Are you really going to d-defend him?"

The woman looks confused, looking back at the crying and snotting Bower.

"Is...is this true...h-have you really b-been doing this d-doctor...?" The woman sounds close to tears, you can hear Bower still choking.

"It's true. T-this man is a monster..." You give an answer for him.

There's the look of extreme guilt and sorrow on the woman's face, but the gun is not lowered any.

"I'm...I'm so sorry a-about this..." The woman moves forward, she's going to get Bowe-

Her arm spins you around and wraps around your neck and shoulders, preventing you from moving. You can feel the cold barrel of the gun press up against your temple.

"Please...let the d-doctor g-go..." She's stuttering the entire time, as if she is being forced to do this.

"Wh-why are you?" You watch dismay as Lawrence begrudgingly releases his hold on Bower, the older man chocking and gasping for breath. The receptionist takes a few steps back, taking you with her.

"I'm...I'm so sorry...i-if anything happens to Dr. Bower...we'll all be out of a job...I finally got this after two y-years of unemployment..." The woman is sobbing but she doesn't release her hold on you or the gun. "I-If I let you do a-anything to him...then that means I'll l-lose my c-child again...the state will t-take him away a-again and I won't be a-able to g-get him b-back..."

Bower rushes to his feet, finding something to wash his eyes out with. Lawrence is standing, keeping a close eye on the gun, readying to move forward. You can hear Bower cursing as he tries to clean the pepper from his face.

What do you do?
Tell her to just do with our mom did. Sell us.
Tell her that Bower is probably gonna fire her for hearing about his Pedo tendencies? I don't know, THINK for her? Maybe get him to offer her a job somewhere else because she knows he likes to do terrible things to kids? Then we can get back to business, pocket the stun gun and get some fucking answers?
Threaten to bite the receptionist. See if Bower reacts to that. Does he even know about our condition, or was he just in it for the rape?

Don't make any sudden moves. There's a gun pointed at our head.
Ask her if she really thinks that her job is secure now that she knows his filthy secret. He was willing to attack us because we knew, what does she think he'll do to her now that she knows.
This, all of this.
We shouldn't threaten her, we have to appeal to her own need to protect her daughter. We have to convince her that protecting Bower is not in her best interest. Right now she thinks that Bower is still trustworthy enough to let her keep her job even after she knows his secret.

Threatening her will just increase the chances that she'll blow our brains out.
Tell her you're pregnant, and that Bower is the father. You know, cus of the rape.

Do this then.
You could give me abstract woven underwater tapestry of Delilah and I would love it!
Yea tell her we're pregnant with a fucking rape baby inside of our belly and that if she shoots she'll be killing two people. Also ask her if she would still work for Bower if he was raping her daughter instead. In fact the bitch is bluffing, just spray the pepper spray at her while closing our eyes tight, she's not going to shoot us; if she shoots us she'll go to jail and lose her daughter anyway. And it'd be a welcome end from this hell if she did kill us.
"Please..." Your mind is racing full of things you could say to her. It doesn't seem like she is a bad person, just...just desperate.

"You're a mama...y-you just want to do whatever you c-can for your kid...my...my mom didn't treat me as well as you're trying to do...she...she let me get hurt b-by him...you'll be doing the s-same i-if you let him do this...'" Keep calm, you don't want to scare her, not with that gun anywhere near you.

"But y-you can't let him do this...w-what if it was your son getting hurt?" You can feel her body shift about as you say this, you need to appeal to her the best you can. There's a tightening in your stomach, and you think about how you can strike a cord.

"You have a b-baby...and because of that man there's one growing inside of me now." As these words leave your mouth there's a violent sob from the woman. She's still holding on, but her body is shaking badly, you fear that her trigger finger might accidentally...

"I...no...we all k-know Dr Bower h-has s-some...some t-terrible interests b-but..." The gun lowers away from you. "I had n-no idea it was...was this fucked up...God...what the hell is all of this..."

You look down the hall and can see the few other doctors are out, either looking away or watching the scene, all with guilt painted over their faces.

"Y-You...Mr. Talbot..." The woman points at Lawrence, gesturing for him to come over. He follows her command, walking over carefully, his hands held up, a careful eye on the gun. When he's close enough you are pushed into him and the woman steps out of the way. The gun is pointed in your direction again.

"Leave...leave now. I'm...fuck...I'm so sorry a-about what's happened to you b-but...I c-can't lose Jonathan. Not again." The woman looks like she might end up sick. She practically marches you out, leading you two through the backdoor. Before the door is closed in your face, you can see her mascara is running down her cheeks. She's a wreck as the door closes, and so are you as the two of you stand in the dirty alley behind the building.

What do you do?
Tell Lawrence that we have to get reinforcements. We need to go to the junkyard and get William and his crew of hard motherfuckers and some weapons and take over the place, making sure to immediately dispatch the unstable receptionist next time around, then cut off Bower's balls and pepper spray his dick

Or I guess the 13-year old little girl thing to do would be to go back home and cry ourselves to sleep and not do anything
After we collect ourselves, giddafuck out of that alley, head back to the school, and cry. Cry a lot.

We still don't know much more than when we went in, other than the whole goddamn clinic is in on this.

As a side note, since we're pregnant, assuming its Bower's, then we have actual DNA evidence inside us that it was him. If it comes to it, we could probably take him down in court.
Break into a sweat and start shaking. Stammer that we want to go home.
Well, we didn't get any new information besides the fact that other people at the clinic have some idea of what Bower is like. There is a good chance now that he'll be headed to jail, the rest of the clinic staff aren't going to be able to put up with his "interests" when his victims come knocking on the door.

We should head back to Grandma's or the School, anywhere that's safe and once we've recovered think long and hard about what we're going to do about the baby. If we ignore it much longer our options are going to get more restricted and we won't have any choice in what happens that doesn't lead to suffering.
You can only stare at the door keeping your attacker hidden away from you. There's hands on your shoulder, but you only buckle down as you can feel yourself trying not to sob.

"H-home...I...I just wanna go home..." Surprisingly, you aren't shaking, but it feels like everything else is crashing down. Lawrence pulls you towards the street, your feet dragging as you follow him. You pass by the parking lot for Bower's business, shoddy cars filling up the spots. You don't want to be out right now, you don't want to do anything but sleep.
Lawrence keeps a careful arm around your shoulder again, but even the simple act of walking is too tiring for you.

"Can you...just call a taxi or something...I don't care how much it costs..." You don't even look up as you ask this, pulling out a twenty from your pocket. Lawrence doesn't hesitate to try and flag one down, eventually getting you one after...you don't even care about how much time has passed. You just don't want to be awake any longer. You basically crawl into the cab's backseat, your head lolling against the dirty cover. Lawrence is there next to you of course, writing the address of the school down for the driver. You soon close your eyes for the ride, but you don't sleep. You want to, but not here. Your stupid head is hurting again...

Lawrence is the one who has to lead you carefully into the school. You feel like you couldn't care less about precautions. As soon as you go in, you drop into your blankets without a word to anyone else. You close your eyes, ready to shut out the world.


Everyone has tried to talk to you, tried to get you back up. During the first day, they let you sleep. The second day, Jessica tried to get you to come with her and the kids to shower. You didn't budge and barely gave an answer. Food brought to you began to pile up as you refused to eat. The third day, you kick and cry and scream as food is forced down your throat. Today you just lay in your blankets, eyes starring at the ceiling. Jessica has already tried coming around, asking for you to join her. Your silence served as an answer and you can tell she left with tears in her eyes. You're not even sure what part of the day it is now, you just know that if you were to die in your sleep, that would be okay.

Lawrence comes up to you slowly, taking a seat next to you. You don't give him any reaction at all, but you can hear him writing.

Is there anything you need?
An army.
You need answers. You need to know why Bower isn't being held accountable for his horrible actions and you want to know why all the most honest people you know are living on the street. You need to know what your illness is and if you can cure it. But you know none of those questions are gonna be answered anytime soon.

... but a hug might be nice.
I need to be alone
This, one failure won't end the world.
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You look down at Delilah's face. It's only been a few days, but Jesus...

You would say it looked like she has been dragged through hell and back, but that wouldn't be a far off description of what she has been through. You tuck that familiar surge of anger away deep inside, like you're used to, and try to keep a soft face around her.

"Please...leave me alone..." Delilah's voice is weak, but her answer is firm. Holding her down to feed her that first time was terrible, her crying to be let go broke your heart. You don't want it to happen again, but from the way she's looking and acting, you know damn well that's going to be the case.

You get up, taking one last look at her tiny frame. Delilah is bundled up in a heap of blankets, looking like at any moment she could be lost.

You might still lose her if she doesn't get better.

Heading over to Sam, you can see he's prepping the meal that Delilah will eat...be forced to eat. Supplements have been stirred into the warm oatmeal, in an attempt to keep her healthy.

"Well...do you think she's going to eat today?"

You shake your head no, and Sam grimaces. He already knew the answer though, and he hands you the bowl.

"Let's get it over with then."

Once again you're forced to hold down Delilah as the food is pushed down her throat. She's crying, kicking and screaming, but you are able to easily hold her down. God, she must hate you for this.

Eventually, you finish the awful deed and she is just laying on her back, spit at the edge of her mouth and tears rolling down her eyes. You recognize that broken look easily enough, something you have felt before. Sam waits around to make sure she isn't going to throw any of it up, but Delilah curls into a ball and sobs herself to sleep. Even though you're doing this to help her...

You feel like a monster.

Sam motions for you to follow him back to his workstation, where he keeps his supplies. Sitting in his chair he sighs and runs a hand over this thinning white hair.

"Christ...first Claire and now that poor girl...I don't know what we're going to do." You set the bowl down and take the chair in front of him.

"That pill...you know which one Lawrence, I should be able to get it soon. I don't know if that'll help her mental condition at all though."

You can only nod to show that you understand his grim words.

"For now, keep an eye out but let's not add anymore stress to her. If she...if she goes off anywhere alone, follow her. Stop her, understand?"

Of course you do, you understand perfectly well what Sam is implying.

Sam goes over his inventory, he's going to need to go and restock soon. You get up to take the bowl back to John, and Marilyn stops you on the way, tugging your pant leg.

"Lawrence..." She has such a pitiful look on her face, something Marilyn isn't known for. "Is...is Bunny going to be okay?"

Dammit...you know how you should answer this question, but at this point you aren't sure if it's the right thing.

You nod anyways, but Marilyn's face doesn't change.

"I hope so...I liked teasing her...and...and it would be sad if you were all alone again..." You can only watch as Marilyn walks back over to her grandfather, helping him with his count.

You bring the bowl to John, who takes it with a grim look on his face. It's impossible to ignore Delilah's screams, it feels like they pierce through the walls themselves.

"She'll get through this buddy..." John puts the bowl with the other dirty dishes. "You were pretty down when I brought ya in from outside...but...well she's a different case I suppose." You had told John what happened with Delilah, though he probably heard about it from elsewhere already. You offer him nothing and decide to give in to your addiction instead.

Outside by the tree, you light up a cigarette in the cold air. The stick droops down from your mouth as the smoke billows up to the air.


What do you do?

This is a bit of an experiment, just a warning!
See if we can't find something to do around the School to blow off steam. We can't leave Delilah alone in this state but we also shouldn't let our frustration build up like this, it won't be useful right now. If there isn't anything to punch we could always look for some kind of manual labor to do or just stack desks in some of the messy rooms.

Anything to be moving and doing something while still being close enough to keep Delilah safe.
Steal a car.
Cry while we have a moment to ourselves. This could've been avoided if we'd not let Delilah keep pushing herself harder; if we hadn't let Bower get the better of us.

Finish our cigarette and get back inside to Delilah.
Have we swapped to the Law?

Alright, we finish the painting and show it to her. That will cheer her up.
This suffering of pretty interesting.
Food rape is a concept I have never heard of.
There is also how she hasn't fed in days due to this depression. I can sense the several ends thst get us killed or kicked out.
Go back to your drawing materials, find those sketches you were doing.
Do we get Jessica Quest after this one? Where we find the cure to our disease and start loving girls?
You breath in the smoke deeply, letting it drift out of your lungs slowly.

Everything is so fucked.

Why the hell did you let Delilah do all of that? She wasn't going to handle that well, no matter what the outcome was. Letting her see that man...that James Bower...

How fucking stupid of you.

Once again, you show off just how much of a fuck up you really are.

Shit, you're even tearing up. You aren't the one who came face to face with a man who raped you, this is you're fault that she's like this, don't you dare fucking feel pity for anyone else but Delilah.

You rub you eye in irritation, frustration....

Anger. Dammit, keep yourself in check.

The cigarette in your mouth quickly begins to turn into ash as you fill your lungs with the smoke. It burns the inside of your throat, but you put up with it anyways. The butt is thrown carelessly into the snow as you stomp back into the school.

As usual, you check in on Delilah. Her hair is a mess and despite being asleep once more, heavy dark circles are formed under her eyes. It's fucking depressing, seeing someone you once saw smiling and laughing in such a dreary state. Sometimes you sit by her, seeing if there's anything she needs. Of course she wants to be left alone, and you never push her but...

Fuck, what the hell are you supposed to do? Your hand begins to shake as you think about the pain she's in, but you shove it in your pocket. Count back...back from 100 like you're supposed to...

You have started counting back up by the time you get back into the classroom, the one you were supposed to finish the drawing of Delilah in. Pulling out the hidden drawing board, you take a look at your work.

Look how healthy and happy she looked in this, how she use to look...how could they take that away from her? Selfish pricks, letting someone as sweet as her get hurt like that...fuck...fuck...

You hide away the drawing again and make your way upstairs. The far down classroom has taken your abuse enough before, it should be fine taking it once more...


The splintered remain of a chair lays in front of you, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. You resort to this every time but you never really feel better afterwards.

You never do, yet you keep trying to let your anger out this way.

Leaning out of the cracked window, you remove another cigarette, your last one. You toss the empty pack behind you and allow this one to slowly burn between your lips this time. You watch as the ash falls from the cigarette and to the far ground below. You're going to need to get another pack soon. There's no less anger inside of you...

But it seems you have tamed that beast enough for now, enough to focus on the drawing. You go back down and set yourself up, the drawing showing you the ghost of the girl sleeping in the other room. As you color in the shirt's wrinkles, work on her delicate fingers, shade her blonde hair, you are just reminded further about how Delilah isn't like this now.

Regardless, you keep working. You only stop when the light from outside stops filling the room. There's still some work that needs to be done on this, but you'll burn yourself out at this rate.

What do you do?
Guess it's time to hit the sack soon. Grab some dinner, get drunk and pass out next to Delilah. Also don't die
Pick up something to eat before our nightly vigil begins. Try and think up other things that might stir some life out of Delilah.

She was enthralled by some ring at the plaza, wasn't she?
delilah needs blood also, do that
We should stay in the room with her, she might not want us there right now but if we aren't there she might think that we're giving up on her. She's relied on us to be there when she's hurting and so that's where we should stay, we have to be there for her when she does want us around.

Also we should paint our anger next time we need to release it instead of smashing stuff, if violence doesn't help perhaps something else will.
It would be the best if you got ready for bed.

But when do you ever do what you're supposed to?

Back outside you go, to walk down the dark streets. Alone.

As soon as you step outside, you can see your breath forming in the air. It would be more satisfying if it was tar smoke leaving your lungs instead, you think this as you cough. On to the streets you go, walking down the gray cracked sidewalks with only the lights from street lamps to accompany you. You're use to these lonely walks, or you thought you were. Having someone once at your side only reminds you how big the sidewalk is now.

To the convenience store you go, the block it rest on much more lit up compared to where you came from. As you come up to the smudged glass door a man moves out of the way, averting his eyes to the ground. The usual, what do they expect? That's you're just going to reach out and hurt them?

You enter the store, flickering florescent lights showing off the limited stock inside. This visit was only for a pack of cigarettes, but your eyes catch on to the well stocked coolers lined up on the back wall.

At the counter, you have a bottle of whisky rung up and you point towards the cigarettes. The young man working the counter has seen you around before, and knows which brand you usually get.

Down the street you go again, whisky in your pocket and the pack of cigarettes in hand. You pull one out, forced to look at the face of the packaging.

Cowboy Sue's, the mascot a doofy looking caricature with a wide grin and a little hat to the side. Cheeky looking bastard...

The cigarette has fallen to ashes by the time you return to the school and your nicotine addiction should be fed till the morning. By instinct, as soon as you walk inside you check in at Delilah. It's alarming to see her and the blankets just...gone.

That's right...Sam talked about moving her. You go back to the classroom you have been drawing in, and sure enough you can see Delilah's nesting inside her swarm of blankets. Mabel is sitting in a chair beside her, arms folded and snoozing. You nudge her awake and point her out the door.

"Whuzat...you wanna take watch Law?" Mabel yawns widely and you nod. "'ight man, just...y'know...keep a good eye on her."

Mabel walks out of the room, but you can see that she's worried.

Not nearly as much as you must be.

Delilah remains sleeping as you open up the cheap whisky. It burns going down, but it's the only thing you got to take off the edge. The pangs of hunger hit your stomach, but you don't feel like moving. Instead, you attempt to fill the empty space with more liquor.

Dammit...just...dammit. What the hell are you supposed to do? You think back to the time when you were like this...back on the bus. It took something to snap you out of it, it took Delilah. What the hell could you possibly do for her now? Just keep forcing that whisky down...

You think back to the last time you saw her smiling, when she looked happy. The Plaza, the place you hoped would help her. Delilah had smiled so much that day, despite everything. You spent so much money there too, now you only have 35 bucks to your name. Fucking pathetic.

Delilah had wanted something there...you remember that. What was it...a ring, yeah? She was captivated by one...which one...fuck more whisky...

It was...it was pretty simple looking, actually. A band with just one stone inset inside of it. Wouldn't that fucking rock her world? How happy would something like that make her?

You don't have that money though, you fucking bum.

Still...if you could find a way to get that to her. If this was a movie, you would find a way to get it to her by Christmas in a few days.

If this were a movie, she would have found herself a proper hero. Instead, what is she stuck with? A man closer to playing the no name baddies in the background, only there to terrorize the heroine and to make the hero look good when he kills them.

She found and stuck you with despite everything she's been through. Delilah was worried that you would be afraid of her, instead of the other way around. Most people fear you, between your actions or the way you look, it doesn't help that you can't speak to no one either. It just makes you look like a fucking creep.

Yet, Delilah has stuck by you through it all.

How much have you drank so far? Too much.

There's a whimpering from her blankets and, nearly falling, you kneel down to check on her. Delilah is still asleep, just experiencing a terror only she can see in her dreams, and there is nothing you can do about it. Nearly collapsing, you take a seat beside her and stroke her hair till it stops. Michele use to do that for you when you guys were kids, whenever the other kids would send you home crying.

Ah...you're too drunk to focus on that kind of stuff. You lay on your back, next to Delilah, keeping just the right amount of distance away.

You fuck up, you absolute fuck up. She's like this, and it's because you let her be this way, how can you close your eyes and just sleep?

The alcohol, that's how.

What do you plan to do when you wake up?
Suffer a hangover.
It might be the alcohol talking but maybe we should go talk to Delilah's grandmother about this, maybe she can help us out. That is if we don't feel like complete shit in the morning
Let Delilah drink our blood
Or water, cottenmouth
>hey granny, I decided to take your grankid to the guy who raped her despite better judgement, now she's regressed and traumatised beyond all belief!

Might as well continue with what was left off, go visit her mum or something.
Is some willing to give a real quick recap
> young girl been sexually abused for months
> she flees home, finds a shelter
> she got a thing for causing harm, blood, confused about it
> young girl finds herself pregnant, confronts mother and the rapist with a friend (Lawrence)
thats the quick look on things, very sad when going through it all
Sounds good except the pregnancy part. I was in the first threads isn't she like years old wtf
surprised us as well, she got her period but then they still allowed her to try the pregnancy test amd it showed positive.
these things can happen in real life so it was a shock moment, body being to slow to cleanse itself
Maybe get an abortion
Find a way to get her that ring.

Maybe that foreign guy would like to retain full function of his limbs. Or the guy from that camping supply store. We could get some answers, revenge, and money.

No need for Delilah to go through a confrontation like that ever again.


Look up pregnancy spotting. Hint: it's not about spotting a pregnancy.

This is why you shouldn't make do with just quick recap. It's being taken care of.
Who was the lucky shot? Bower or little gorl bro?

3 months, though.
It's a ~mystery~
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You're awake before the sun is up, but you can tell it's going to be out soon. Glancing over to your left, you can see that Delilah has barely moved from when you passed out.

What's worst, seeing her constantly asleep or those few moments when she's awake and hating it?

Fuck...you should not have drank as much as you did, your head is killing you and there's that familiar nauseousness in your stomach. Sitting up, you run a hand carefully over Delilah's forehead, moving her hair out of her face.


Of course doing this doesn't help her any, but you can't help but do it anyways, on that off chance that she might respond.

You rise to your feet, shaky and unstable, but isn't that how you usually feel? The bottle is still on the ground, you didn't even both to put the lid on.

Dammit, you really need to show some restraint. There's a little less then half of this cheap shit left.


Just a quick drink, to help stave off the headache. Hair of a dog. You should really buy the nicer stuff...

The door slowly creaks open and you see an exhausted Aria enter the room. She's been helping Sam with both girls, it's probably the most she's ever had to work.

"Oh...hey, Law." Aria yawns and kneels down beside Delilah, looking her over. "Slept all night?"


"Hopefully...hopefully she gets to the day where she only sleeps at night..." Aria mulls over this thought. "Ah, I-I'm sorry, could you leave for a bit? I'm going to try and help her clean up...I'll try to get Mabel to help me but if she gets like...like she does when she eats, then we may need you to..."

You nod, but the thought of holding Delilah down to clean her up is a grim one. Leaving the room, Mabel gives you a quick greeting as she walks past you, a bucket of water and sponges in her hands.

Please just let them do this Delilah...no...get to the point where you want to do it yourself...get better....

You don't see John in his usual spot, you might to have a cigarette breakfast instead. When you step outside though John is leaning up against the school wall, his own cigarette in hand.

"Hey Law." The sound of your name is accompanied by a cloud of smoke. You decide to join him here, taking out your pack. Cigarette hanging out of your mouth, you struggle to find your lighter but John lights you up.
"You look like you're not doin' too well."

You inhale quickly, the end of your cigarette becoming a deep red and smoldering cherry. You're doubtful that John is talking about your missing lighter.

The two of you stand with backs against the crimson bricks, filling your lungs and letting the smoke rise to join the dark gray clouds that already fill the sky.

"You smell like alcohol, have you been drinking again?"

Your eyes stay towards the ground and you shrug, in a 'so what?' way.

"I'll make you some eggs but let's...let's not have a repeat of Good Hope. If I end up finding you passed out in the snow on Christmas eve again, you owe me big time buddy." John is trying to keep his voice positive, like how he usually acts. He's good at masking when something is upsetting, but that takes a toll on him. Those times when he just stares off in the distance, forgetting what he was just talking about.

"It would make that girl of yours sad too." John crushes the butt of his spent cigarette under his heel and heads back inside. You can feel your hands shake a bit at the thought of her.


You know it's rude of you, but instead of going back inside you take a walk to the bus station instead. You're going to do something useful, for the first time in your life, you're going to do something that's actually going to be helpful. You think about what you have on you. Thirty-five dirty bills, pack of smokes and a lighter, notebook and pen...your brass knuckle grazers...

Dammit...you have these different options floating around in your head...

Where should you go?
Head to the plaza, see if we can the ring then find out how much it costs. Lets try and do something good.
That ring could keep her from just giving up, and whatever we do next hinges on its price.
The Plaza...you can at least see how much it would cost. Maybe you can convince the person at the counter to give it to you for thirty bucks. Yeah, and maybe you're voice will magically come back.

On the bus ride, you sit alone. Even as the other seats around you fill up, the one next to you will stay empty. It always does.


That's you, no matter how hard you try to fix it. Hell, Delilah wouldn't have stopped running if she hadn't needed you to save her.

Needed you

And you fucking love it. Even though it means that she has been afraid, constantly worried for her life...the way she clings to you for support...physically...emotionally...it means you're still useful for something. It's your life line, the one thing to keep you from closing your eyes and jumping into open water. She could have found support in anyone else, yet she sticks to the fuck up. And you take that trust and support for your own advantage, using it as a means to keep yourself going.

What's it going to be like when she doesn't need you anymore?

It'll be for the best. Delilah can go off and find herself some happiness, and you can let the world deal with your sorry ass.


You sure as hell don't look like you belong in such a pristine looking store, and the stale whisky on your breath doesn't help either. Still, you scan through the display, trying to find the one Delilah had been fascinated with. Where the hell is it...

"Ah, may I help you sir...?"

There's a well dressed woman behind the counter, a bit put off. Not that you aren't use to those reactions already. She flinches a bit as you rise back up, she probably didn't expect you to absolutely tower over her.

I'm looking for a ring that was here a few days ago. I think it was just a gold band with a red rock set in the center. It wasn't very big, did you still it?

"Gold band...I think, oh I think I know which one you're uh...talking about. It's last season's stock, we have it on clearance right now actually." She goes to another glass case, pulling out the black velvet display and bringing it over. There are an array of rings and earrings...wait, yeah...this was the one Delilah wanted.

You nod and point out the one.

"Let's see...this one, on sale, costs ah...three hundred dollars."

That is not thirty-five dollars. You thank her and walk out of the building. Thank God the sun isn't out right now, your head is already a mess right now. You take a secret swig of your whisky and shudder as it travels down.

What do you do now?
Get granny to come along and convince her to buy it for you. Bring her to the school to check on Delilah maybe, although it's a huge risk
Maybe that might work. But lets not rush it, explain the situation first. We don't want her misunderstanding and thinking we are trying to freeload or something.
Track down one of the guys from the camping supple store. The guy Delilah sought help from.

Need to know what went through his mind. Need to make him regret it.
Let's go to the camping store and fake inventory.
You aimlessly walk down the sidewalk, attempting to organize your thoughts. It suddenly hits you that Delilah's grandmother hasn't been caught up with what has been going on. Maybe if you let her know about her granddaughter's situation, then she will lend a hand. Before you head out her way you duck into the bathroom of a convenience store.

The sink fills up with water as you attempt to make yourself look presentable. Wash the dirt and grime from your face, ignore your scars, attempt to wash out the taste of death from your mouth. Looking back at the mirror, you stare at the man reflected back.

What a fucking loser

You need to save up all the cash you can, so walking is your mode of transport for now. The walk between the Plaza and her nice neighborhood is an easy one. This side of town somehow managed to keep it's nice wealthy appearance up, no pot holes in the road or abandoned buildings. The houses closest to the Plaza aren't nearly as wealthy as Delilah's grandmother's, but those people inside still have a stable roof over their head. They don't have to worry about getting mugged anytime they leave their clean door step. What is it like on the side though? Are the people inside just as perfect?

Of course not, but they must be much happier then bums like you.

When you begin to see fences, you know that you are entering the place of wealth. Houses built before you were born, standing the test of time much better then the rest of the city has. A car comes in front of you, passing by slowly.

You must stick out, they probably worry that you're here to rob someone. This visit will need to be a quick one. It takes a little bit, but the iron gate reminds you of which house it is. Up the stairs you go, thinking about what you're going to tell her.

Your granddaughter is fucked up because of me, please lend me money to fix it

That'll go well.

You sigh and knock on the door. The instant your knuckle touches the door it swings open, it was never closed properly. You look in a bit and see that all the lights are off, the bedroom door open. From what you can see and hear, there is no one here.

What do you do?
That's not good, knock loudly on the doorframe so that anyone inside can hear. Listen to see if Grandma answers, maybe she's fallen and she can't get up. It seemed like her health was shaky when last we saw her.
Investigate quickly
I can see this turning out so terribly.
Make sure no one's observing and knock on the doorframe. Does this have to do with why she seemed so shaken before you left?
Check for cars first. There could be a government assassin waiting for us. Then investigate the interior checking for granny
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>Delilah is bundled up in a heap of blankets, looking like at any moment she could be lost.
How comfy is she?
Not enough to escape the depression.
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Too comfy.
This...isn't right. The air inside is cold, the door has been like this for at least a day. You knock again anyways, your fists easily echoing through the house.

It's silence that greets you back. Checking around, you remember her warning words about a car, but aside from that one that passed by you there's not any....

Shit, you better hurry and take a look. You leave the door open just a crack and begin to snoop about. It's freezing even further inside, she wouldn't have...collapsed, would she?

Look carefully around the bedroom, the kitchen, the living room...

No one.

You're attempting to walk up the wooden stairs quietly, but you can't stop the creaking. You go through each room, looking to see if she's here, if anyone is here. The guest bedroom is the last door, and you can't help but feel nervous as you open it.

Nothing...well, no. Nobody.

This room is a wreck. So...so was that other one, the one with Delilah's father. Well, more then her grandmother would allow it to be. The sheets and blankets were thrown about and things shifted out of place. This room is the same, if not even more trashed. You remember that Delilah left behind the extra change of clothes and the old ones she changed out of, but you only see the new ones thrown to the ground. Did...someone take them? Didn't she leave her book behind too? That might cheer her up, if you could find it. You work quickly, trying to locate it but...it doesn't seem to be here either.

What the hell...

Shit, you should leave. Even if she had just left the door open by accident, if someone sees you snooping about that won't be good. You quickly walk outside and don't stop to think till there is plenty of distance between you and the house. All this is weird...

Focus on Delilah for now. She needs to get better first, then you can focus on this other shit. How could you get money right now though...

You feel a loose note in your pocket and pull it out.

That's right...Delilah wrote down a list of people. More importantly...their addresses. You feel like you could definitely get something from these guys...

Do you go to the camping store or the used car lot, and how do you approach either place?
Well at least we won't look too out of place at either, let's got to the camping store first and pretend like we're browsing for a tent or a camp stove or something like that to scope it out.
You've already seen what that guy from the used car place is like, it might be good to go pay a visit to the camping store.

The walk there is long, you have to completely walk out of the nice neighborhoods and head to the cheaper part of town. Places there are run down, and while many of them are still in operation it's easy to spot the closed buildings of failed businesses. It's a shame, when you were a teen they probably would have done well.

You stand across the street from the alleged store, double checking the address written down with the fake gold numbers near the front.

This should be it. What kind of man are you going to face inside?

There are only a few customers here, and as you enter you can see the place closes it's doors at seven, four hours from now.

You meander over to a display of hiking backpacks, feigning interest at them while you scope out the cashier. He seems to be the only one working here...

Is...is that kinda guy really...?

He looks like a ladies man. Soft features, that almost androgynous look that has been popular recently. He just...looks like such a pushover. Could a guy likes this really have raped a little girl?

You move to further back in the store, behind aisles holding the smaller camp gear. There's a glass counter around the cash register, stuff like knives and compasses kept in.

You feel sick to your stomach when you remember Delilah's cheap knife.

Alright...focus right now. There are only two more customers inside with you. Take the chance to scope the place...

There's a door behind the cashier, maybe a supply or break room? You can see there's a phone set up next to the register, but it doesn't look like this guy can afford security cameras.

What is your plan?
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And, also a mini sneak peak. Been having to do other stuff, but here's a current WIP from a previous previous update!
Wait for the customers to finish their business, using the opportunity to find some duct tape and a pair of box cutters. Write down a single statement for the cashier, "You raped my friend."

Knock him flat when he reads the note. Will need to lock up the store to prevent getting surprised ourselves, but can focus on getting an answer.
It doesn't look like this guy is all that busy. Getting him alone should be easy, so long as you're patient. As you continue to fake interest in the low quality supplies, you spot a box of zip-ties used for tents. You pocket them, keeping an eye on all the customers.

An hour passes, and the last customer is at the register. The elderly woman pays for her racket and shuffles out of the door. You have kept to staying in the back to watch the entire time, but now it's time for action.

"Can I help you, sir?"

That bastard asks you with concern, he's seen you hanging around, not interested in his supplies. You go to the counter, writing him a short message. He's confused that you're communicating with pen and paper, as most people usually are, but accepts the note anyways.

You raped my friend

He looks at you, wide eyed and ready to speak but his words are cut off the second your fist kisses his face. Unprepared and surprised the man falls to the floor, blood flowing from his now crooked nose.

There's struggling and a call for help, but you easily pin his body down and zip tie his wrists and ankles to each other. He's a wriggling mess as you go back to the front door, locking it and flipping the sign to 'Close'. He's ready to scream when you duck behind the counter, pulling out one of the display knives. You pocket it and decide that the back room would be the best place to handle this.


It takes some work, but you manage to rearrange the man to a chair, his arms and legs tied down. He's a sobbing mess at this point. You take a look at the Polaroid pictures behind him. You recognize the used car salesman, this must be the right guy.

What do you do?
>Already hurt and scared. Now afraid of strangers. How okay? Why?
>Cheap piece of shit knife make everything fine?
>Ever experience girl cry while asleep, perfectly aware why?
Stay calm despite the storm raging inside. He has to regret his decision, not get the easy way out. Live his life as a social pariah rather than becoming the story of a robbery gone wrong.
Steal Polaroids.

Don't be stupid and kill guy before you get objective.
We need to question him first before we do anything, he could be a different guy. See if he has any evidence and maybe we spare his life.
is that a giraffe with a baseball bat on the left?
also why is Law getting destroyed by a manlet?
Why yes, that is two giraffes and a tree holding a bat! And everyone is a manlet to Law silly.
I'm still working on it, but it's a digital painting. Very early WIP
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The familiar burn of anger rises up inside, but you can't let it come out. If you do, then you'll end up with a dead body and no answers. The guy is begging for his life, to let him go. You ignore him, walking over to the desk, removing your coat. Count down from one hundred, calm yourself.

You set down your heavy coat on top of the desk and allow yourself to reach zero. Looking at the photos, you can see this man is in almost all them. There's a few with the used car salesman too...this has to be the right guy...right? You remove one of the Polaroids, one with both men in it, and pocket it. Steady yourself...

A few swigs of whisky and you're ready to begin your task. The man has stopped crying, the blood beneath his nose drying. There's a name tag on the front of his shirt...


You should try to get him to admit to what he's done, before you do anything too drastic. Luckily for you, intimidation is something that has always came easy in life, even when you didn't want it.

And you definitely want it right now.

The guy braces himself as you walk closer to him, flinching as you lean in close. Your mouth is by his ear, and you prepare yourself for the painful task of speaking.

"Little...girl. Blonde...hair. Know...her?"

"What are you talking about man? A customer? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He's starting to get angry, and you remind him of who is in charge with a strong grip to his shoulder. This Alex guy quickly shuts up.

"You...raped...her. Hurt...her bad." You tighten your grip on his shaking shoulders.

"She...just needed...help. And you...took ad-vantage...of her." Fuck, your throat is already starting to burn.

"Hey man! Don't try and pin something shitty like that on me! I'm a great guy! I don't take random people fucking hostage!"

"You...gave her...a kn-ife. A...cra-ppy knife...and she...will cry...about this...forever."

Once you mention the knife you feel the guy instantly tense up. You stand up straight again, rubbing your throat. Alex is looking up at you, intense hate furrowing his eyebrows.

What do you do?
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>You remind him of who is in charge with a strong grip on his shoulder.
This >>185014 and then interrogate him about the salesman and how they know each-other.
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Make sure he can't hurt anyone ever again.

Deprive him of his manhood. Maybe his hands.

Also we should rob the register.
We torture him for information of course. Also ask how long his little rape scheme has been going on. Slice off his pinky first, telling him that leaving an angry guy like him around is dangerous, and work your way up to the thumb if he continues to act hard
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Sorry, you're referring to a deleted post I made.

We're doing >>185028 right?
If we rob the place it will look worse for us on the off chance we get caught. We should find anything to incriminate him and leave it out for cops to find and then leave an anonymous tip.
We also shouldn't kill him or torture him, but knowing Law he might not be able to hold back. We're necessary evil, here to end the borrowed time this scumbag has been living on.
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But we're still taking his benis as a trophy, right?

We should preface our actions with "WHEN I'M THROUGH WITH YOU, YOU'LL HAVE TO PEE SITTING DOWN, LIKE A LITTLE GIRL!" written in all caps.
This guy relies on his appearance so much... but we broke his pretty fucking nose. But that won't ostracize him, we need something more... permanent.

Could carve Alex' crime into his forehead with one of his own knives... or try to contact William. Maybe one of his boys have a tattoo gun.
Violence isn't rational in this case, if guy talks, we may still get into trouble, so who will be there for Delilah?

Leave Polaroids in open, call popo?
Also, if anything Sue has said has led any of you to believe the polaroids are of a sexually explicit and illegal nature, I'm sorry for you lots.
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This sounds like it might be a good idea too, if we can't incriminate him with something found in the store then we can at least leave him with a permanent reminder.
Assuming of course we can find some really good incriminating evidence here.
How so? Wasn't there something mentioned about it with our first trip?

Even if it's just pictures of little girls, just drag comfy Delilah over to the station for evidence or something.
You're going to make this guy admit to the fucked up thing he did and he's going to face the hell that comes from his actions.

You are absolutely burning up on the inside right now.

Keep that fire down...keep it in check. If you get too angry too quick, then it will all be over and it'll be no better then when you started.

"That...man. In the...photos." You gesture over to his wall. It's sickening, knowing that all those normal looking photos hold the pictures of rapist in them.

"He...helped you. You both...hurt her."

"You can't be talking about Berk. He has a daughter, man!"

In an attempt to keep calm, you close your eyes. Count down again...like you're supposed to...

"I don't know what you're up to man, but you can't just come in here and take an innocent guy like me-"

Alex shuts up as the knife is embedded in the empty space between his legs, the blade half way through the chair. There's half an inch of space between him and the knife, but that's more then enough to get him to shut up.

Okay...now you need to count down...

Fuck it.

You put a firm hold on his neck, squeezing down.

"What...did y-ou...do to...her."

"N-Nothing man!"

You tighten your hold, and you can see him turning red in the face.


"I told you! Nothing!"

You jab at his face with your free hand, a large welt forming on his cheek.



Again, you strike his face. Again and again and again.

You force yourself to stop, the side of his face welling up black and blue, his eye forced shut. You let him go and give him time to catch his breath.

"I'm not getting out of here alive...am I..."

Jesus, it's like hell itself is burning inside of you. It would probably be good for you to take a step away from him, even just for a moment. Lighting a cigarette, you step back into the store front. The cash register...
It takes a bit, but you manage to get it open. Pulling out all the cash, you carefully count it.

Two hundred and thirty three dollars.

You bring the bills in with you, laying them down in a bundle next to your coat. From the chair you can hear what sounds like nervous laughing. Maybe he's lost it...

Kneeling down in front, you force his head to look at you.

Why the fuck is he grinning like that.
"You aren't letting me go...doesn't matter what I say at this point. What was she to you? A little sister? A niece?" His words are coming out a little jumbled, maybe he is losing it. You stand up, looking around the room for anything you could use as...you don't know...evidence? Why the hell would a rapist keep something incriminating though?

As you're rummaging around, Alex keeps speaking.

"Maybe she's a girlfriend then...pft...you seem like a guy who would scope out middle schoolers." You can hear him spit, trying to keep the blood out of his mouth. You look through the desk drawers.

"Are you jealous cause I got to fuck her?"

You stop in place and can only look over at him. He has the most sickening shit eating grin.

"Must be the reason. You don't look anything alike, can't be related. Crazy ass bastard, coming in here like this. Not like it matters...what're you gonna do? Tell the police? You came in here, held me hostage in my own store, and then beat the shit outta me. Doesn't that look bad on you?"

You turn to face him as he says this, and that fucking grin just grows.

"I saw you counting that cash. You gonna rob me too, aren't you? Fucking mute bastard. " He's becoming smug, his friendly facade from earlier melting away.

"You're either going to end up killing me or taking that cash, I just know it. But I can at least get one last kick out of this, can't I? Course I can, that's what I love. Living life to the fullest. You just gotta learn to take what you want, life is too short. Everyone else just wants to take and take from you anyways, why not do the same?"

He's speaking like he is giving a speech to a room full of people, as opposed to only you.

"I taught my friend that, Berk. Guy was always feeling down and depressed, he just needed to learn how to live life. You could do the same man, but maybe this is how you get your kicks. Beating up guys who can't even fight back..."He spits out more blood from his mouth.

"Course...you might just be jealous. She not give it up to you? I know girls just end up becoming whores anyways, spreading their legs to get what they want in life. It's so easy for them, y'know? If they're just going to do that as adults, why not let 'em do it now?"'

Fuck...calm yourself down...

Your fists ball up tightly, yet it feels like you can't move.
[2/3] whoops
"Tell you what, lemme tell ya about that little bitch and then you can just keep that cash. Maybe buy yourself a real whore with it later, or maybe your girl will let you in now that you got something to flash. After the first couple minutes of crying and kicking, she's a real drag in the sack, know what I mean? Like a dead fish! Just laying there on her back, wouldn't even look at me! I thought maybe keeping her around for a bit would be good, even suggested taking her back to the ole apartment for some real fun, but Berk was the one who wanted to let her go. It's a shame, I'm sure after a few days she would just be begging fo-"

The sound of the punch cracks through the air and the chair topples over with him still attached. He's choking on blood and spit, but Alex manages to look you in the eyes.

Despite the hell fire burning in yours, his eyes show that he's absolutely enjoying your pain.

"C'mon man! Lighten up! Or maybe you wanna hear about what her body looks like? Or maybe how tight she wa-"

Your foot connecting to his face shuts him up, at least leaving him dazed and confused.

Calm...calm down. Just...keep yourself calm...

Fuck...fuck fuck fuck FUCK

You pull the knife out from the chair and look down at him. His eyes are closed, but he's still breathing. This piece of shit has nothing here that you can use and you sure as hell can't call the cops. Don't...don't kill him. If you keep beating him, he might die. As much as he deserves it...you can't let that happen.

You still feel that burning anger inside of you though...fuck...


Cutting the hair away from his forehead, it's like you've a clean canvas to work with. With a careful and steady hand, you begin to carve letters into his skin, digging just deep enough that you know it will leave scarring.


If the law can't bring him down, then maybe society will instead.

You wipe the knife down and pocket it, going back to your coat. Another drink of whisky...fourth of a bottle left.

Putting your coat back on, you look down at the money on the desk. As you contemplate taking it, there is knocking at the door leading in from the alley. Police...? No...no that doesn't sound like police knocking. You wait a moment, but it still persists.

What do you do?
The motherfucker just played him.

So Alex gave Bert some meaning into his life? If they weren't scum it would be heartwarming.

Ignore money and leave door unlocked but hide.
Shit, check the front and see if anyone will notice us leaving. If there isn't anyone who will notice us we should leave out the front and find some place to hide where we can still watch the shop.
Kinda want to mutilate the guy some more. But grab all your shit quick, peek around out front to see if anyone is around, and grab some extra supplies from the store if there's anything good like pepper spray or stun guns and shit
Pocket the cash and hide. Hopefully they'll leave and we can get out of there like nothing's wrong, but we have to be ready to sneak out.

Just that the pictures were of various men. Groups, including Alex. Delilah realized her mistake when she noticed Bert in some of the pictures.
On second thought, we don't need the money. We do it for free.

Make him physically eat the cost of the knife. And that's about it.
Back to depression square, where rapists are united by friendship.

We can't hide in the store because Alex will just tell whoever we are in here.
Shit...if they come in and see you then it could mean trouble.
There's part of you that says to leave the money...

But this bastard owes Delilah the world and beyond.

You quickly pocket it and open the door to the front, carefully looking out. It doesn't look like anyone it out there, certainly nothing like cop cars. It might be worth seeing who is coming in. If needed you can just make a dash for the front door.

Safest place to hide would be behind the door leading to the front, allowing for a quick escape. Hiding in a closet means your stuck there if anyone finds you...

Crouching down, you keep the door open just enough to peer in and watch the alley door. The knob begins to shake furiously, is it one of his friends? Maybe they saw that the front was locked...they'll probably just assume he's not here and lea-

You nearly jump from your spot when the alley door is slammed open, the busted lock spewing pieces to the ground. Two men enter in, scanning the area before kneeling down beside the unconscious Alex. They're dressed formally but...they aren't cops though...right? Cops don't dress like that...

They untie Alex from the chair and carry him out through the door. You wait a little bit longer, barely able to hear them speaking. Just wait a bit and they should leave...

One of the men renters the building, and you decide it would be best for you to go before he finds you. Watching your step, you head towards the front door. You can hear the man looting about in the back room, if you can just leave silently it should be fine...

Unlocking the door is easy enough. Alright now just walk outside-

Those stupid fucking bells.

You hear the backroom door open and sprint out to the street. Dodging cars you race across the road and duck behind a thrift store. Crouching behind a dumpster, you try to calm yourself.

What the fuck was that...

You remain in your hiding spot, and as the minutes tick by you're pretty certain they hadn't seen where you went.

You now have a knife and $268, and the sun is about to disappear under the horizon. Tomorrow will be the twenty-fourth.

What do you do?
Meant to post this before bed, but the 4chan was broken.
Find some where else to sleep tonight. There could be a chance that someone did see us and is now following us. We don't want anyone learning about the school.
Leave a buck or two to the Salvation Army as you pass a Santa.
Carefully watch our surroundings as we head for a bus stop. Not much else we can do with night creeping in.
Read the pastebin but it just ends abruptly. Where can i read the rest?
Follow the thread links back. I think the pastebin ends around thread five.
My bad, I will update pastebin right now.
Thread 5 is still too far ahead and it wont let me go to thread 4
Shit, current story is officially too long for one pastebin.
Here's the part 2 http://pastebin.com/eGfGW8jV
Also, and I apologize, but there may be some minor editing notes in there
Thanks man
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Keeping an eye over your shoulder, you begin the walk over to the bus station. There isn't much you can do right now, not at this time. What the hell was all that just now...

Dammit...you're still short on cash...not to mention it still feels like you're burning like crazy on the inside. That little burst wasn't enough to satisfy your anger. Fucking hell...

It'll be okay...sedate it with another sip of whisky for now.

As you approach the half filled bench of others awaiting a bus, you stop in your tracks.

You can't go back to the school, not right now. It doesn't look like it but...what if those guys are tailing you? Bringing them over there is just asking for trouble, and with both Delilah and Claire not being in any condition to move...

Maybe the junkyard? William would be more then willing to let you stay...but that might mean bringing the problem to him instead. You just need to find somewhere to hang about till it's safe for sure. Where should you go...


Angel's Bar

You don't really like the option...but it might be the best. How long has it been since you were last at that place...

Wasn't it two years ago? Swore you would never go back...

But it may be the best place to hide for now.


The bus travels deeper into the underbelly of town, bright and colorful lights hiding the grim and dirt underneath. The bus leaves you off at the edge of all this, and you're forced to walk through the streets. It's busy, of course it is, it's a Saturday. The many bars and night clubs are open, along with any of the dark secrets below. As you walk there's a crunch beneath your foot...

Broken needle.

No wonder you don't come here any more...

The words Angel's Bar are written in tacky cursive font, wings flanking the sides. The building, on the other hand, is a run down piece of shit. Gray brick and four stories greet you, but from your experience you know that plenty is hidden away.

When you enter, it's a bar and lobby you were once familiar with. Drunken men and desperate girls take up the spaces. Beer, cigars, and enough illegal substances to get the whole place arrested are passed around, catcalling and arguments filling the air.

You walk in past the No Smoking sign, lighting up a cigarette. This place is always open, even when the sign up front says otherwise. In an attempt to keep to yourself, you pull a chair away from the hustle and bustle, enjoying your smoke.

A woman passes by, a man pulled behind her in hand as they go up the stairs. You catch the silver glimpse of a key...she's a worker here. Not that her use of underwear as an outfit didn't already alert you to that.

You should take this time to make your plan for tomorrow.
Buy Delilah that ring.
Make Bert fear you somehow.
I wish one day the Law pounds the shit out of Delilah's pussy and they both fall into each other's arm and can't move for like hours because they're so tired and in love.
Scrounge up the last forty dollars somehow. Donating blood, maybe? Or see how guilty Berk's conscience is...

Get the ring. Have it wrapped up, even. That'd be real neat.
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It's not like anybody else would have Delilah.
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I don't see what's wrong in wanting someone to have their knight in the shining armor.
Donating blood sounds like a good idea. But lets not go after berk yet, the camping guy could of warned him.
That's going of the assumption that he wasn't killed or dragged off somewhere by the suits.
Hopefully we'll meet a cute boy our own age who will treat us right.
>Not a cute girl.
Yurifag please go
a girl would be okay, I guess, but I'd prefer for Delilah to have a cute boyfriend
My brother of Sub-Saharian origin.
But we already have a cute boyfriend. :<
That ring...you need to get Delilah that ring.

You need to get that last forty bucks somehow...you're so damn close. The chances of you finding some random work the day before Christmas is slim as hell...

As you pull the cigarette out of your mouth to release the built up smoke, you look down at your wrists. Blue veins traveling up and down your arm...don't blood donations have a payout? Dammit...you fucking HATE needles...

But if it means helping Delilah feel happy again, then so be it.

Damn...you're starving. Maybe you can swipe something from the bar to settle you down for now.

Weaving and pushing your way among the rambunctious patrons, you find an empty spot to take at the counter. It looks like you might have to order something...it'll be fine. Just five dollars, limit yourself to five dollars.

"Whaddya want?" The woman at the counter comes over to take your order, her cleavage attempting to spill out of a loose top. You study her face...it's not someone you know. That's good.

You point over at the guy next to you, who's attempting to eat a BLT. He'd be doing a lot better at it if he had stopped drinking an hour ago...

"What? You want one of those? Alright alright, gimme a minute. Gotta cook it up." She sounds annoyed, but from your experience she's probably just exhausted. As she goes to prepare your dinner, you think back to when you were here last.

Fuck...what an awful time that was. You use to hang out here often, spending your money on cheap booze and...after building up the courage...you decided to spend it on a woman.

It was pretty pathetic...you hated the fact that you were alone on Christmas eve, and that the solution for that was a one night stand. Course...it's always been hard for you to approach people...you figured it would have been easier to just pay someone to spend the night with you. A win/win...right? You could finally throw your virginity away and she would earn some extra cash that night.

You didn't put much thought in who the girl was...just who ever was available. She was pretty sweet from what you can remember, but that might have been the money. Didn't matter, what was important was that she was yours for the night. She led you up to one of the cheap and dirty rooms upstairs, having you lay down on the bed and putting up a show for you. Despite the way she swung her hips just right, you could see from her face that she wasn't into it. This was just another job for her.

When she crawled into bed with you, kissing you on the lips, you realized what it was you wanted. It wasn't sex...

You wanted affection. You just craved the feeling of someone being there with you, to not be alone for once. And like a fucking loser, you ended up crying. You expected that girl to run out of the room, but she did her best to comfort you. It might have worked, but you decided to push her away instead. You didn't want to be lonely, but you were causing your own isolation. The woman picked herself up and left, but not before giving you a look...

How pitiful

She didn't need to say it, but you know that's what she was thinking. Your response to rejecting her? Drinking the sorrow away.

But that never works, does it?

"Here ya go." The plate clatters on the table and you hand over the cash. Four dollars shorter now...but you should be able to handle that...right?

Fuck this food tastes as cheap as it looks...

Good enough to keep you going though.

You settle yourself in a corner of the bar, away from the business from it all. Tired as hell...you should be able to sleep if you're careful. Just a few minutes of shut eye...that's all you need.

Maybe it's from the booze or the stress, but you end up dreaming something pretty vivid. Who was in it?
Delilah, obviously.

Like you had to ask.
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It's going to be Delilah, you're all a bunch of fags.

How about some other girl.
A high school crush or something.
From back before you dropped out or something.

Or before she got cancer. She was the only one that really knew you, but still just wanted to be friends.
Adding that to >>186667 for maximum suffering. Also, wake up with a boner because why not fuck up our mind even more.
But the girl sort of looked like Delilah.
This. Lets add some character to Lawrence.
This please.
Yeah looking like Delilah is a good idea. That Delilah to him is like some sort've reincarnation of the girl, a second chance to save her, providing for some weird emotions.

Even better if they start to meld into one another or swap features mid dream.

Doubly better if Delilah IS her and this is all due to time vampire fuckery.
Backing these. Weird as it probably is for him, and as much as he probably feels like shit for it, he's probably quite aware of the fact that he would be 300% into Delilah if she were ten years older.
When she's of age.
Count down the days, less than five years.
>goin to blood donation
Next thing you know some vampire is sucking out our blood though a bendy straw.
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This some real medieval shit you're talking about.

Which is completely in character since Lawrence is a Crusader.
>Five years.

Nigga, Delilah is legal. Age of consent laws have only recently changed in the last 20 years. We are in 1980s, and we only have to wait till Delilah is 14. Depending of the state we are.
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Waiting warmly.
You're standing in a room...a white room. It seems so familiar...

Why can't you move your arms?

In front of you stands a girl, her back to you...honey colored locks just above her shoulders.


Shit, you still have your voice, and not that awful sound of rusted metal rubbing against itself. It sounds normal...it's loud and clear.

The girl turns to towards you. Fuck...it is her. Even after all these years, you could recognize that face. Cute and always that blush to her cheeks...smart too, from what you can remember. Did she ever make valedictorian? You never got to graduate with them...you never found out.

Why isn't she looking at you? Her dark blue eyes are looking at the ground...didn't she like you? That's right...she didn't like you the same way that you liked her. Vanessa liked hanging out with you, she did it when she could...

But you were always just a friend to her. There was a time where you made things awkward, when you asked her to a school dance. She denied your offer...but weirdly enough she ended up asking you to prom a few weeks later.

That's when you were in the hospital. Recovering from your injuries...she had came to visit and promised you that...

It was just a pity date though. You could tell even then.

Didn't Vanessa really want to stay friends with you? What happened...you never did anything wrong to her...

"You know Lawrence...it's a shame..." Vanessa speaks up, her usual gentle voice.

"Maybe I could have liked you...the way you liked me. I could have made you happy..."

Vanessa is looking at you now, her smile broken and her face a mess.

"It's a shame...how you ended up turning out."

You try to reach up for her...there's a pair of cuffs attaching you to the chair. Even after she promised to go with you...

"Honestly, it's fucked up."

After what you did to Charlie, she was terrified of you. Everyone was.

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Shit...shit your throat is burning...you want to use your hands...you want to look away from her condescending look. That's right...this is a visiting room. You only got to use it a few times but you still recognize it. You're looking away from her, ashamed.


That's not Vanessa's voice.

"I guess that makes two of us."


"So that means we have to stick together, right?"

Looking up, you can see who is walking towards you, a smile on her face. You try to say her name, but your throat is burning like hell and only a jumbled mess comes out.

This girl's not scared of you. She hasn't been, despite everything you have done.

When you reach up this time, your handcuffs are gone.


You're starring at the ceiling, your neck sore from staying in place so long.

There's a pounding in your chest...dammit...

Another cigarette is lit as you try to cover your thoughts with the smoke instead.

That's...pretty fucked up of you...isn't it...

What the hell is wrong with you...

Your face falls into your hands, ash falling to the floor between your feet.

Why...couldn't she...just be...a little...a little older...

Why would you even think that you fucking creep

Fuck...you feel sick to your stomach...

You should

It's not like that though. You just...enjoy the way she's kind to you...right? That she stays around...she's filling that longing for affection you need...

Does that make you feel better?

No but...fuck...you're not like those men. You would never take something like that away from a girl...especially one her age...you wouldn't ever hurt her that way...

You really should hate yourself

You always have.

It feels suffocating in here. You get up and head out into the streets, there's only about an hour or so till sunrise. Any place accepting blood donations won't be open for a few more hours.

What do you do till then?
Couch those feelings down on paper.
Buy a girl
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Jesus that gif is/was huge, take this smaller one.
That's gonna cost us a fuck ton and go the same way. Maybe not the Christmas present we want. Vow to go for it if your frustrations become unbearable.

Go to church or something, there's probably a mass you can blend into.
Oooo go to a catholic church, when they pass around the donation plate, steal 40 dollars
I like this idea. Probably not something we want to admit to Delilah, but writing this stuff down could help us.
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That's very impious of Lawrence, isn't it?

I'd prefer we just go to the Christmas Mass, maybe do confession. Get everything off our chest.
Mentally steel ourselves for the needle ahead. Or needles. God knows how much we'll get paid.

How many times we'll have to do it...

But we can do it for her.

Could be helpful. See those feelings repeated to ourselves, even if we can't reason them.

Let's make it Lutheran, though. No need to pour fuel on the fire that is our anger because of holier-than-thou cunts. Maybe we can help out for a bite to eat.
Can we compromise and have him attend an Orthodox/Coptic mass or something? It's Christmas, let's be ecumenical and come to some middle ground.
Second. Don't steal from church. It'll just make us feel worse. A confession could be a nice scene, though.
Not if we want to ebb the tide of our rage.
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Fucking proddies and their heresy...
You need to sort these thoughts out...but it's not like you could ever tell anyone about them. If you keep letting them well up inside though...

In an empty alley you crouch behind a dumpster, the light from the streetlamps barely reaching you. Ever since the accident you have always had pen and paper with you. Even when there was no one else to talk to...

Alright...steady yourself. Just...just write what you're thinking. Write and don't look at the words till you're done. Fuck...just one sip of whisky first to help you...

Angry I'm angry but that's normal. I hate that its normal

I don't like being angry it makes me feel alone. It's my fault I'm so alone though. I'm angry because I'm so alone and I'm alone because I am so angry.

When I'm angry I'm scary and I hate that too. I hate that people fear me Even when I'm not angry a lot of people are afraid. When I'm not angry then I usual feel upset. I hate myself.

I shouldnt be upset its my fault that I'm like this

I don't want to be so angry and alone any more I want to feel good about myself I want others to like me

I feel lonely except around her. She doesn't get scared and hasn't ran away from me That makes me feel good. It makes me feel like I AM good. I don't want to be a bad man.

I want to be a good man

But when I try to be a good man it never works everything falls apart

She fell apart because I couldn't be good enough

I don't want her to be like me. I don't want her to feel angry and alone and depressed. I want her to smile and laugh and love being alive.

I want her to feel the things I don't

Sometimes I feel good around her though sometimes I smile when she does something cute or when I get to bully her

Sometimes she makes me feel better about not jumping off the bridge

But now she's not in a good place and it's my fault I need to make it up to her. I want to make her happy

I want to make sure she's happy forever I want to do whatever it takes to make her smile again to make sure she doesn't feel alone any more. I don't want to hurt her but I want to be close to her. I feel sick that I like being close with her I just want her to be happy no matter what

I want to see Delilah's smile every day so I don't hate myself anymore.

Jesus, what a mess. This jumbled mess of a paper looks how you feel inside. Man...stop shaking.
You light up another cigarette to calm yourself and stand up, pocketing your notebook. The page is near the back...you need to make sure to hide it away later.

Back on the street you walk, people starting to shuffle out. In the distance you can see a crowd outside of a large building.

Ah, that's a church...Christmas is tomorrow. How long has it been since you went? Before you went into the hospital, when you're whole family was still together...

You approach the humble looking building. It's a nondenominational church from the looks of it. Even though you look and smell like a mess right now...
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Crushing the half smoked cigarette beneath your shoe, you follow the group inside.

Rows of pews are already starting to fill up. Most of these people are regulars, families sitting in their usual spots. You feel a little...out of place. Like you've entered someone's home. Still, you wait in the back as more of the spots fill. There's only about forty people here, give or or take. A young boy lights a candle on a stand by you, they're getting ready to start. You take a seat on the very edge of the furthest pew, away from as many people as possible. You watch as all the candles up front are lit and the two children walk back down the aisle with their still burning flame.

You stand when everyone else does to be polite, but you don't follow along with the hymns or anything else. You can't, even if you wanted to. As you once again sit, there's a family that shuffles in through the door and hastily find a spot on your pew. As the pastor...preacher? You don't remember the difference, takes the stand you can fell the little boy a few feet away looking at you.

Why is there a homeless man here? He's scary.

That's what he must be thinking, that's what most people think.

You keep your head down as you listen to the sermon. The weight of your guilt begins to pull down on your shoulders...

You've done so many wrong things in your life.

In shame and to hide your blurry eyes you cover your face with your hand.


There is a gentle tugging on your sleeve soon enough. The little boy has come up to you, holding two small candles in plastic holders. He holds one up till you take it and he goes back to sit with his family. You watch as the people in front pass a flame down from their own candles to one another. Eventually it comes to your pew, and once again the little boy comes up to you, this time offering to light your candle. As you do this he whispers so quietly, you almost have trouble properly hearing him.

"I hope you feel better, mister."

He passes something down on the seat to you before going back to his family. Picking it up, you can see it's a wrapped up chocolate.


Once the sermon is done and over you make sure that you're one of the first to leave. You didn't get to finish your cigarette...

But this chocolate will be fine for now.

It should be fine to try out the blood donation thing though...let's see...where's a Red Cross...

You wander around for about an hour before you find the right direction to go. You're in an area that's rather poor but...well it doesn't feel dangerous either. If anything, it's just old. Dollar stores and thrift-shops take up most of area, rows of cheap homes behind them.

Standing in front of the building, you can feel yourself starting to shake.

You really...really hate needles.

What do you do to calm yourself?
Think of how happy your gift will make Delilah. Do it for her.
Think of Delilah. Her happiness. Her smile.

Do it for her.
Do it for her you goddamn fool!
Breathe fast and heavy, you won't feel the needle going in. You learned that from your sister.
top kek

Whatever you do, try not to think about Jessica's flesh-eating disease that she got from dirty medical equipment. And definitely don't think about Delilah sucking out all your blood that one time
Imagine how much that ring would fucking rock her world. Do it for her.
You were just writing about how you wanted to make Delilah happy, weren't you?

Come on, don't be a coward. Fifteen minutes. It'll take fifteen minutes and then you can make Delilah happy.

Inside, you can see there's a bit of a wait. That's alright, most of these people look strapped for cash too. You can calm yourself during the wait.


No you fucking can't.

When they call your name it feels the entire ground is shaking. Course, it's just you.

Sit down in the chair, and just...just don't even look at your arm.

What was that...okay...okay they're just cleaning it. This is fine, everything is fine, calm down...think about something else.

Think about how happy Delilah is going to be when you come back with that ring.

How you won't have to see her cry and scream just to get her to eat.

When she'll start smiling again...yeah...it'll be great.


Fucking fuck this hurts like f u c k


You're woozy, but that's to be expected. A pack of crackers is given to you as you go to the counter. You know that it won't be a forty dollar pay out...but you should be fine with going to one more blood bank. Can't do it here, but if it's just one more...it should be fine.

"Alright, here's your payment."

What the hell? Why is it fifteen bucks? Shouldn't it be twenty?

You ask the woman at the counter if this is correct.

"Ah...I'm sorry sir. We've had to cut back on our payouts for the holidays."

Fuck...that means you need to go to two blood drives...

Will you be fine giving up two more pints?


It's an awful fucking walk, but you manage to make the hour and half walk to a hospital that accepts blood donations.

Okay...just relax...

It's a lot easier to do that when there's less blood going to your head...

And...fifteen dollar payment...okay...ooh okay sit down on the hospital steps for a bit...

You're...lets see how short are you now...

Ten...ten dollars short....

Dammit...y-you're so close...

There's another place accepting donations about...about...how far? It's...not too bad of walk...yeah...

But that means losing another pint...

Ten...ten dollars...just need ten dollars...and you can make Delilah happy...

What do you do?
Don't give any more blood. If we pass out or die, we'll probably lose all our progress towards our goal. Find another way to get those ten dollars. It's just ten dollars.
Just a pint. One more pint and we're gold.

Just have to walk careful.
>Three pints.
Well it's pushing it, we won't be able to do a fourth one without being in serious danger (at which point blood donors won't actually allow you to do it).
Being this drunk and giving up this much blood seems like a great way to pass out on the streets and get arrested before getting the ring.

Go see if William can lend you ten bucks, promise to pay him back with some labor or income from an odd job later.
Don't fucking die. Donating more blood is just going to make us useless if we end up in a fight.

Do this >>187977
or find a pawn shop and sell whatever we can afford to part with, maybe that knife that we grabbed from the camp store, or maybe our coat
Agreed. Try pawning the knife. We might have grabbed one that wasn't a cheap piece of shit.

Otherwise we'll have to give blood, because I don't think we can make it to the junk yard and then to the plaza in time.
Oh, good call. Pawn the knife. That should get us at least $10, and we can get it back later.
If we want, but it is evidence of a crime so this is just convenient.
No...no time to stop now...if you wait too long...then..then when you get to the Plaza again...they'll...it'll be too late...

You force yourself to stand up again. Tired...choke down those crackers they gave you...

You begin to walk towards the other hospital, watching your step carefully. Across the street, you can see a pawn shop...maybe...you'll be able to earn ten dollars there...what can you sell...what can you...

You walk inside the pawn shop crowded with junk and all but slam the knife against the counter. The man at the cash register raises an eye at you as you do this.

"I hope yer in here to sell that, and not tryna threaten me. Cause the latter at workin'."

You shake your head and push the knife towards him.

"Well, lesse lesse. Woo...desperate for money aren't ya? This piece of junk will net ya a cool...oh...six bucks."

What? No...no you need the full ten. You shake your head again...fuck that made you dizzy...ah...don't get angry...control that flame...

"Listen man. For six dollars, I'm bein' generous. I should be chargin' you for bringin' this into my fine store."

Dammit...okay okay...what else do you have...

You throw your coat onto the counter.

"Man, that stinks. I ain't buyin' that."

Fuck...fuck what else do you have...fuck...fuck...stay calm...

"Hey, either you take the offer or leave. I ain't got all day, I gotta lock up soon and head home to the family."

You're just trying to help someone...just...just a little more...

"Buddy, if you don't leave then I'm gonna have t-"

You lift him up by his collar over the counter.

Dammit...you got angry...

"H-Hey! C-Come on pal! Look look alright, here I'll give you a different deal...ah...how about uh...look, best I can do is...is ten dollars, alright? We can talk about this ca-"

You drop him down his feet, the man rubbing at his neck. He's cursing you under his breath, but you are handed the money anyways. Before he can say anything else you run out the store, coat and money in hand.

Plaza...to the Plaza...shit you have to walk all that way...alright it's...uh...it's about...two, right? That store closes at six...you have four hours...it's a three and a half hour walk. Alright...you can do this.

You try to run what you can, but fuck...you get dizzy and winded quickly. But you never let yourself stop...but you get lost once...wait...yeah...yeah this is the right way to go...

You startle the employees of the store when you burst in, but...but dammit. You're on a mission.

Waste no time...over to the counter.

"Ah....um, may I help you sir?"

Gold ring, red stone in center

"Ah? Oh, oh you were the one they were talking about before. Let's see..."

"Here...here, this one?"

You nod as soon as you see it.

"Alright, I'll ring it up then." You follow her over to the register, already pulling out the bills.

"Now...let's see...with tax that's going to be...$315."

What...wh- FUCK


Sales tax...you forgot about the god damn sales tax.

You must be scaring the poor lady, when she speaks up What do you...fuck...you don't have time to leave again just....fuck...her voice is just above a squeak.

"Um...if...if you're short on the amount...I...technically...well I'm not supposed to tell you this but..." She looks around before lowering her voice.

"You can uh...you can try haggling real quick...if you like-"

You shove all the cash in your hands to her. She looks a bit thrown off but goes about counting it.

"Alright sir...uh...you um, you strike a good deal." She starts crunching numbers and the cash drawer pops out. You are handed back a small black box and three dollars.

"Have a good evening and a Merry Christmas."

You thank her the best you can before rushing out. The box with the ring is kept clutched in your hand shoved into your pocket. It's not going to leave your hold till you can give it to Delilah...

Fuck...the walk back is...it's terrible. You get half way before you're forced to stop...all you've eaten are those crackers today...

Another drink o-

Stop...that's not smart...is it?

Fuck it...it'll be fine. You're going to get her this ring.

Just a quick swig and you're on your way again.

It's already dark before you're half way there, an almost full moon in the sky. There's hardly anyone out on the streets, but that's okay. The box in your hand...you're not going to be lonely any more...

You crawl through the hole in the fence...the school is right there just...ooh...stood up too quickly...it's fine...

To the building...to the...fuck...
Why are you looking at grass...

Ah...yeah your stumbled...

Can you get up?


You can not.


As you lay against the cold ground, you feel something wet hit you...and another...

Of course it's snowing, it just had to be.

"Hold up Mabel, let me ju-Jesus Christ."

You don't need to look up to know that it's John.

"Fucking hell..is that you Law?"

John's kneeling down and all you can handle is a small wave of your fingers.

"What the hell have you been man? Just...dammit hold on."

You feel your body shift...ah, he's trying to help you up. Alright...alright you can do this. Leaning against John you manage to stand, shaky as hell, but you manage.

"Dammit Lawrence." John helps you into the school. "You go and vanish like that, and then this is how you come back? You reek of...what is that? Bourbon...nah...nah that's whisky."

"Is that Lawrence?" Sam comes up on his crutch, his face looking exhausted.

"Sure is. Bastard thinks it's cute to do this I think."

"Well hurry, get him back to the classroom." Sam follows as you are led by John to the back. Fuck...you're sleepy...
[2/3] whoops
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"Dammit Lawrence, you couldn't have left at a worse time. That poor girl...once she woke up and found out you were gone just...she just cried and screamed for you to come back all day. She's been a mess, I mean different then before. She thought you weren't ever going to come back." Sam scolds you, moving ahead of John to open the classroom door. You can see Delilah is sitting on the floor, huddled over, her back to you and covered in the blankets. There's a slight whimpering noise, she's petting that puppy...ah yeah...Buttercup...

"Go on man." John points you in. Him and Sam remain at the door as you take your slow steps towards her. You're not silent and, sniffling, Delilah takes a teary eyed look back.

Her face looks like it has seen a ghost once it hits you.


Dammit, stay awake...probably...probably shouldn't have drank so much today...

Delilah stands up and rushes towards you, wrapping her arms tightly around you.

"I...I th-thought y-you'd left f-...forever..." She whines into your shirt...damn...either you're freezing or she's warm.

Doesn't matter.

Oh...no it does matter...

You're probably about to pass out any moment now.

Pull out the box...holding it out towards her...

What do you want to say to her before you pass out?
Anything but "Merry Christmas." That's way too lame.

How about "I got this for you"?
We're too tired to say anything, just pat her head and give her the box. Then we can sleep for just a while...
Actually, that's a lot better. Let's do that. That's adorable.
Give up trying to make our mouth form words, instead caressing her cheek and smile.

How do you even smile, anyway...

We could probably remember if the room wasn't wobbling.
Here's lookin' at you, kid.

I think we should simply say "thank you".

Then have a trippier revelation about the universe or something.
Either-or, probably latter since headpats seem a little condescending.
Supporting this.
But healing, gotta take it slow.
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Lawrence pushes a small box into your hands...what is it?

Before you can open it you feel his hand move to pat the top of your head, moving down and rubbing over your cheek. His fingers are freezing but...

The smile he gives you is one of the warmest ones you have seen.

And in an instant, Lawrence crumbles to his knees. John and Sam are quick to come over, and despite not wanting to you move back to give them room.

"Oh jeez...I think the bastard's drunk..." John rolls Lawrence onto his back, tilting his head to the side.

"Well of course he would be...look at this." Pulling it out of Lawrence's coat, Sam shows off a bottle of nearly finished...alcohol it looks like.

"Doesn't seem like he's in too terrible condition...course with the weather and the alcohol that would explain why he's freezing."

"Eh...he's drank more in shorter time." John stands up straight, patting at his knees. "Gonna be one helluva hangover though. And I sure as hell ain't going to try and move him."

"I wouldn't suggest it, just let him sleep it off." Sam grabs a blanket from the floor, throwing it over Lawrence's already sleeping form. "Are you going to be okay, sleeping in here?"

You're a little thrown off when the attention is directed back to you.

"Uh huh..." You nod slowly and Sam grabs his crutch.

"Alright, if you get scared or anything, don't be afraid to come get us...you watch over him carefully, alright?"

You nod again and the men say good-night to you, leaving you in the room with Lawrence and Buttercup. They're leaving you alone without a watch for the first time since...ah...Lawrence...

Is...is he really back? You look down at Lawrence, like he might be gone if you blink...

But there on the floor he remains. He...he won't leave you like that again...right? Without telling you? God...you were so scared...what if he never came back?

You sit down next to him, Buttercup running up to lay in your lap. You've barely left the room...and you have cried all day...

But at least you were finally doing something.

It...it felt like your heart was broken though...you can't really explain it...

Ah right...the box...

You look down at the little black box in your hands...it kind of looks like...

Slowly you open it up.



No way...

With a shaking hand you remove the ring from it's place, looking at it carefully with the flashlight.

There's...there's no way...something like this...is...

It's for you?

You slip it onto your ring finger on the left side.

Heh...it's...it's a little too big...you might lose it if you wear it now...maybe you can look for a chain or something later...

You grip it tightly to your chest.

It's one of the most wonderful things you've been given.

It's...it's much too pretty for you...

Ha...it's yours though...it your ring...he gave it to you...

You'll...you'll need to thank him when he wakes up...

How should you thank him?
Hug him warm, dont let Lawrence get sick
Sell the ring and give him the cash
This, but also make a promise to get back on our feet tomorrow and try to return to some semblance of normalcy. He wanted us to feel better and we can't let him down!
Are we now the ring of whispers and bad ideas?

Let's ask Lawrence about his chub again.
Grab the other blankets and huddle up to Lawrence. Gotta keep him warm.

Maybe we could eat something by ourselves. Push through the melancholy. It won't be gone but... we have all these people caring about us, so maybe...

And this big, dumb jerk isn't disappearing this time.
New thread in morning. Am sleep now. Be. Good,
Nice going Sue, this latest segment gave me a happy.
>John and Sam are quick to come over, and despite not wanting to you move back to give them room.

...what? Sue, how tired were you when you wrote this?
She only missed one comma. Put it in there with your eyes.
>John and Sam are quick to come over, and despite not wanting to^, you move back to give them room.
Probably really tired, my apologies.
But, as a win for me; I no longer have to worry about my best friend since 5th grade dying in her sleep anymore and she is finally getting better

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