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/qst/ - Quests

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=Thread 16=

You are Delilah, a young girl with a strange affliction suffering in a world that does not care. A runaway living on the streets, you go through several hardships and struggles in an attempts to find peace and happiness for yourself. The world is not simply black and white, nor are the people living in it.

Can you push through all the misery that surrounds you, or will you fall to this gray world?

=Links and Information=

Story Thus Far (Raw and a mess, will work on cleaned up versions.):

http://pastebin.com/WnGZwK04 Part 1
http://pastebin.com/eGfGW8jV Part 2 (Part two seems to be somewhat messed up in addition to not being caught up. I will attempt to fix, but archives seem to be your better option for catch up)



Quick Glance (SPOILERS) The quick Who is Who and what Delilah has. Mostly accurate.:


Twitter; @Cowboy_Sue
Discord; https://discord.gg/0107qV9kiFDlUH9nY
Chat room with me and other players. I answer questions, post sketches, and act cheeky.

Last Thread:
"I..." Delilah is trying desperately to keep from sobbing, to keep her words clear and concise.

She looks up at you, and even in the dark you can see that her big gray eyes are afraid, filled to the brim with tears that spill over to her cheeks. You welcome her with open arms when she lunges at you, hands gripping at your shirt in attempts to give herself some stability as she wails into your chest.

"I was b-being touched by...b-by these hands...they were h-hurting me and r-ripping off my c-clothes and...and touching me all o-over and...and there w-were p-people just...just w-watching and not h-helping me..." Her voice breaks several times as she says this, her words are almost hard to understand. What isn't difficult to understand is what caused her to have this dream.

The thought of it makes your blood boil.

But you need to stay calm, not show your anger. That would only upset Delilah more right now, would only scare her. You need to be here for what little support you can give.

"But w-worst...the worst p-part about it..." You brace yourself for the nightmare, to hear more about how she must have been abused and violated even in her dreams. You don't want to hear it, but you need to.

"I...I was safe a-and...and I t-think it was with y-you and...and you w-were trying to h-help me and...and I l-lost control again...l-like at the b-b-bunker..." She's whimpering now, like a child confessing their sins to a parent. "And I h-hurt you...I h-hurt you so b-bad Lawrence..."

She buries her face into your shirt, into your chest, her tears starting to soak through as her body violently shakes with the sobs wracking through it. There's a shiver in her hands, in the fingers that cling to you, the part of her that is still filled with fear.

You offer her the only comfort you can in this moment; a shoulder to cry you.

Bringing up your hands to her shoulders, you test the waters by allowing your fingertips to brush over her. Delilah flinches away and you retract your touch. She doesn't mean to, you know that.

"I'm sorry..." She whispers, once again apologizing for something she has not control over, apologizing for the actions that had been forced upon her. Slow, everything needs to be taken slowly with her.

Once again you bring your hands up to her shoulders and this time Delilah allows you to touch her. You bring her closer to you, the motion of her body against yours causing the still sore muscles to ache in pain. You can't let her know that, she would think it was her fault somehow.

With an arm across her shoulders you place your other hand at the back of her head, your fingers trailing through her short coarse hair. The wavy dark strands that you allow to travel between your fingers just serves as yet another reminder of what Delilah has to go through, the changes she's forced to do just to try and keep safe.

Fuck...it gets you angry like nothing else...

Calm, keep calm right now. Delilah needs you to be calm.

"T-Thank you..." She mutters after she pulls away, attempting to wipe her drenched cheeks. You aren't sure how much time has passed since she's waken up, but it can't have been much. The outside is still dark and your head still feels fuzzy from earlier.

"Okay...you're okay..." You use the cuff of your sleeve to wipe her face dry, the occasional hiccup coming from her lips as she allows you to do this.

"I'm not really okay though...am I..."

She asks all of these hard questions, and you never have the answer for them.

Rather then try and answer the question you lean in and give her a small kiss on the forehead.

"Need to...go to...sleep again."


She continues to sob and whimper for some time, but you are thankful that Delilah manages to fall asleep again.

Her body is curled up, facing and pressed against up against you. To aid her you rub over her back, feeling her body move with each breath underneath your fingers.

"I love you..." Delilah mumbles this at some point, barely realizing her words before slipping away again.

She says it so easily, does she realize that? You doubt that she's just tossing it around, but you also doubt that Delilah realizes just how heavy those words can be.

Or maybe you're just too scared of them.

You know you've said that you love her before, but you were both drunk and unsure about how you meant it.

And honestly? You are unsure how you would mean it now.

That...really shouldn't be a problem.

Maybe you're just trying to justify being a creep, that is what you are, right?

Just...a creep.

Offering her comfort is one thing but...

You've gone into some dangerous territory, haven't you?

Fuck, thinking about this kind of thing is going to keep you from sleeping now...

That's fine, you can at least make sure Delilah sleeps through the rest of the night.

The word creep continues to hang in the back of your mind, but you can't stop yourself as your hand comes up from Delilah's back and to her head. You pet through her hair, looking over as the different strands fall across her face.

Fucking creep.

You only allow your fingertips to travel down her cheek, not wanting to scare her awake.

It's too dark to tell now, but you've notice the gentle contrast between hers and your skin. That tan darker color popping up between your paler one...she has that warm look. Well, she does when she isn't scared and crying and angry.

Maybe one day you'll get to see when Delilah has more happy days then sad ones.

Fucking creep, are you really wanting to have her stay with you?

Even if it wasn't the creepiness in the situation then that would mean you want Delilah stuck with you, stuck with your problems and issues too. You aren't going to be anything great or amazing, you shouldn't even be alive right now.

You shouldn't be trying to think of a future with Delilah, and you know it.

You...might need to leave out for your errands sooner then you thought.

It's hard, forcing yourself to stay there fuming in your thoughts. Delilah is sleeping through all of it though, unaware about how you are kicking yourself mentally.

She said that she hates when you talk bad about yourself...

But you deserve every bit of it, don't you?

It gets to the point where you need to get out, try and walk off these thoughts. The sun isn't quite up yet, but you can't stand to just lay here next to Delilah with all these terrible things stewing.

"Delilah..." You whisper, trying to wake her slowly. She moves a bit when you say this, but only to face away.

"Can you...get up...please?" You sit up, placing a hand on her shoulder trying to rouse her.

"I don't wanna..."

"I need...to leave...for a...bit."

"Carry me then." Delilah curls up in her blanket further, sounding grumpy that she is being woken up.

"As you...wish." Gritting your teeth through the soreness, you manage to scoop up Delilah in your arms and stand up. Of course this would be an easy feat any other time, and you hide the pain you felt from the action. Delilah seems a bit surprised that you would actually do this, and from the look on her face it seems to have woken her up more.

"You promise you'll be back..." She whispers, arms around your neck. You nod and watch as she chews on her bottom lip, not looking happy with the answer anyways.

You carry her out of the room and to the filthy hallway, knocking on the children's door. Realizing that she doesn't want to seem spoiled, Delilah is quick to rush back down to her feet, just in time for a yawning Aria to open the door.

"What's wrong...?"

"Um, nothing. Lawrence said he needs to go out so..."

"Ah, gotcha. There's enough cuddle room for one more." Aria is grinning at this, looking at Delilah. She keeps that grin when she looks up at you, but there's another message in your eyes.

You better come back

Delilah says goodbye before the door is closed, leaving you alone in the hall. You just stare at the door for no good reason before shuffling out the hall and to the lobby.

Why does she cling to you so much? You aren't a good person...

You can't even go without lying to her.

Or rather...holding back information from her.

You scum.

Even the losers in the lobby are passed out still, not that you wanted to see them away anyways.

Out onto the streets, where you'll once again walk alone.

Light up another cigarette, the only thing to keep you company at this point.


All you can think about now is;
>The toy from the school
>What really happened during your attack
>Michele and your parents
>Your relationship with Delilah
>Do anchovies really belong a pizza?
Deep moral dilemmas.
>Michele and your parents
Tangentially >Your relationship with Delilah
Both of these.
Something something threadly reminder I'm too lazy today.

Get your shit together anons so Delilah can have a happy ending and enjoy all the lewds with none of the drawbacks.
>happy ending
>'Melancholic' Quest

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Do you want this to end like Emergence?

Her name instantly sparks up all the hopeless feelings inside of you, ones that you can't ever properly dull. She's your first stop today...rather, her tombstone is.

You couldn't even be there for her burial, and there's no way your parents would have known what happened. Just like the day she ran away from home, Michele had to have been alone during her funeral. The cigarette bends at your tightening grip, the thought of your sister being lowered into the ground without friends or family enraging you.

The day you had found her apartment, you promised that things were going to be right, that you would make it everything up to her. You would be able to bring her back home, and you would both be welcomed back with open arms.

Of course, you messed that up too. Came at the wrong time, came in too late. You could have visited that morning, the day before...hell, even a week before. But you were scared to face Michele again, afraid to see your own sister. It's not like she was upset with you when she ran away from home, you were just too much of a coward to come face to face with her again.

You never even got to see her body.

The police swarmed around the apartment prevented you from getting anywhere near it, but overhearing them talk with the ambulance workers you found out the hard way.

A prostitute and her boyfriend had been found dead inside.

That's how they described her, they didn't even call her by name.

Just...she died as a prostitute, and that's how they will have known her.

None of those people will have known about the girl who tried to stick up for her baby brother, who sang off-key but kept trying to anyways, who wanted to become a chef and have her own restaurant and make something of herself. The girl who never made good grades at school, even though she could have if she tried. The girl who cried all night because the baby bird she had found and tried to take care of died in her hands. The girl who thought she needed a boyfriend, and fell in with the wrong crowd because of it. Who would scream and argue with mom, but when she locked herself in her room would cry and feel guilty about all the awful things she said. Who came to talk to you and you alone about her problems, telling your secrets and fears and dreams she had when it felt like no one else would listen.

The girl who was your best friend growing up, even if you were too scared to admit it.

Everything that she was and did...reduced to being a drugged up hooker.

You kick at the trashcan bolted to the ground, the echoing thud resonating off from the pain in your foot.

Once again...you need to calm down. What good is getting angry going to do right now. At best you'll have the cops called on you.



The place Michele is buried at is nowhere near acceptable, not what your mother and father would have chosen...hell, even you would have fought to find her a nicer place. Anywhere that wasn't a yard surrounded by a rusty fence and tucked away behind a packaging plant.

The snow makes the grounds look somewhat nicer, but only because it covers up the half-assed job that lays beneath it. Once spring comes the snow will be replaced with patchy and yellowed grass, the other spaces being taken up by lifeless dirt.

Walking past the archway that had never looked nice, you look over the rows of graves.

This is the place families bury people they wish to forget. Or, in Michele's case, had no one to claim her a nicer resting place. Even the bigger headstones are crappy and cheap looking, the marble chipped away at the edge. Walking past a row of them you can see that a few have been subjected to a tagger's wrath.



Fucking Chimo

If you had to guess, the man buried at that spot probably deserved every word written over his name.


You push that thought out of mind and continue towards Michele's spot.

Her plot has been placed in where ever there was an empty spot, sandwiched between two other graves of people who know nothing about nor have any care of knowing. She couldn't even get a proper headstone, only a small plaque half hidden in snow marks everything your sister was.

You clear away the snow, revealing only her name and dates. No nice words, no last sentiment, nothing.

Just...Michele Talbot

The now dead prostitute.

The cigarette hangs limply between your lips, only a few moments remaining before it's completely used up. You ignore the slight burning as you look down at the grave.

"I'm...sorry." You had apologized so much the first time you came, it was the only thing you could say when you cried over her spot. The flowers that you had laid down for her are gone already, either cleaned up or blown away or picked up by someone else. You'll need to bring her another bouquet at some point, something to show the world that she is missed.

Fuck...and still, your parents have no idea that they have lost their daughter yet again. That their son failed to bring her home, and now the way you left will be all they have to remember you by.

You can only imagine how much your mother would crying at hearing Michele had died. Your father...what would he do? It's hard to imagine a man like him crying, but you doubt he would mourn with the stern demeanor that he always held.

The thought of telling them makes you sick, but you also know they deserve to know. It would be unforgivable, if they never found out what happened to their children.

Why did the two of you turn out so wrong?

You think about things that have happened just in the past few weeks, things that you could never tell them...things that would make them hate you. They might still accept you back, or at least your mother would...

Unless they found out about the things you have done with Delilah.

How would you even try to explain that situation to them?

If you were just helping her...protecting her, then it could be something admirable but...

You don't want to think about that right now, not in front of Michele...her grave, you mean.

The filter begins to grow hot enough to burn your lips and you finally discard it away from you, tossing it far from Michele's grave. The sun has begun to peek out from behind swarms of clouds, offering just enough light for you to see clearly. This means that visitors for the other graves might start coming, and you decide to take your leave.

"Good bye...sis." Simple words that fall upon dead ears.

You turn and walk away, her grave remaining far behind as you walk out of the gates once again. People are starting to fill the sidewalks, though not many at this time. More then the occasional car passes by, and your eyes glance over each one as you step to the sidewalk. Nothing suspicious, not now anyways.

The hospital next, you would rather head over there and catch visiting hours before the crowds of other people arrive.

While you walk down the street, the far and few people you pass always take a side step away from you. From the corner of your eye you can see that many of them look up at you as you pass, their eyes fixated on the scar.

What a scary dude
What did he do to get something like that
Must have deserved it though
I bet he runs with bad people
I hope he doesn't try to hurt me

You can just imagine what thoughts are going through their heads, those harsh words are ones you have long since learned to deal with. Or at least, pretend to deal with. You tug up on the collar of your coat in attempts to hide away your offending cheek, but it offers little coverage.

Delilah isn't scared of it though.

She said she isn't scared of you...

Is that a wise move on her part?

You've...already done some awful things with her, haven't you? Crossed a line that you shouldn't have. Done some...unforgivable things, right?

The New Year kiss...would have been forgivable, you feel. There would be some uptight people who say otherwise, but it was nothing more then a peck on the lips and a gift for the new year.

Everything else after that though...

What the hell is wrong with you?

If anyone else had told you the same things you've done with her...you would have put them in the hospital.

Not only are you a creep, you are a goddamned hypocrite.

She asks you for those things though

That doesn't make the situation right though.

The familiar feeling of regret surges up when you remember when she asked you what French kissing was, when you offered to show her...when you did show her.

You fucking creep.

Fuck...what about the sex thing? She begged you for it and...and you were just going to do it, just like that?

No...Delilah was crying just from your hand under her shirt, there's no way that was going to go any further then that...you would never be able to fuck someone like that.

Jesus, don't call it fucking...especially with her. Just...fuck, you are a creep.

Sex, just call it sex.

You weren't doing it for you...you were doing it for her...

If...she hadn't been crying though...if she could have gone through with it...

Would you have been able to?

Would you...really have been able to have sex with a fourteen year old?

It's...not like you would have tricked her into doing it...if she asked it from you...

That doesn't make it any less disgusting, you fucking creep.

Are you really that desperate to get laid?

You stopped yourself though

But did you only stop yourself because she would have freaked out too much?

You...really hope so.

Never, ever...would the thought of having sex with a girl her age cross your mind.

It still isn't something you would want to do, it's wrong.

But at the same time...there are those times when you forget how old Delilah is, right?

Stop trying to rationalize it.

You aren't trying to call it right though, there's no way something like this would be right.

But if it makes her happy...

Doesn't make it okay.

What if her being with you is the only thing that could make her happy?

Don't flatter yourself, you're scum and she's just vulnerable.

If she still wants to be with you though, it's fine then...right?

No, it's not okay. You're just seeing her as a way to make yourself feel better about your shitty life, aren't you?

She loves being around you.

She likes feeling safe. Of course she would stick around with the person who could protect her. That could be anyone though, don't make yourself seem like this knight in shining armor.

She says she loves you.

She's just confused.

But what if she really does?

Then you let it be one sided, and hope her affections go to someone better.

And...what if you wanted to love her back?

You really are a creep then, aren't you?

Do you even love her the same way she does? Does she even know how she loves you, if she actually does feel love towards you?

Cause you sure as hell don't understand any of it.


You came a bit too early for visiting hours, there's still about thirty minutes before it's allowed. You decide to stick around in the waiting room, tucked away in the corner and away from the few other people around.

That just leaves you more time to think about;
>The way you left your parents
>Vanessa, the girl from high school
>The unforgivable thing you could never tell Delilah
>Your time bumming around between William and Frankie
>The goddamn anchovies.
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>No anchovies
>The unforgivable thing you could never tell Delilah
Deep inside you actually DO want to bone her, and wish she'd grow up or something
That shit was hot as fuck, but it scarred me for lyfe.
>The way you left your parents
>Your time bumming around between William and Frankie
Where is the true dilemma, Sue? We must contemplate the anchovies.
>the way Vanessa unforgivably spent her time not thinking about anchovies
What the fuck is up with the anchovy posts?
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They like to hurt me, anon.
Shitposts carried over from a joke in the Discord
From what you could tell, when Michele left your parents it was a huge ordeal. You could never get the full story from either of your parents though, and since you were stuck in the hospital at that time you could only guess how it went down.

You remember full well how it went down when you left though.

After being released from prison, it took two bus rides and a full day of walking to make it home. Your parents had tried to talk to you while you were locked away, but you pushed them out. You were ashamed and full of anger, and you directed it all towards them. When you were released you had nothing on you save for some clothes and twenty bucks. That night you came up to the same house you lived in since you were a young boy, and knocked on the door full of fear. Fear of being rejected away, fear that your parents would hate you for what you had done and for pushing them away, fear that they could never look at you the same way again.

When your mother opened the door she instantly recognized her baby boy, even if he was now a giant of a man. When she hugged you and cried over your return, there was a nagging feeling that things weren't ever going to be like they were before.

You weren't wrong.

It was hard to adjust back to 'normal' life, after the time you had spent locked away. Your parents tried to treat you the same as before, as before you left.

That was part of the problem.

You had been seventeen when you were sent away, and now you were a twenty-three year old man. It was like your mother was trying to make up for the missed time you had been away, and your father was trying to adjust the new man his son became. Mom just wanted things to be back to normal, but there was no way that would happen.

Instead of being a bedroom, Michele's room stood as a shrine, left the way it stood awaiting for her return. Your room had been the same, remaining unchanging for your return.

You had changed though.

While living with your parents you tried to get a job, but with no high school diploma and a felony hanging on to your record there wasn't anywhere willing to hire you. Your father chalked this up to you not trying hard enough and your mother cooed that it would be okay, that she was just glad you were home.

Your father wanted to treat you like an adult, with no qualms or sympathy for the situation you were in.

Your mother wanted to treat you like the teenager you had been before you left, to continue raising the boy taken away early from her.

Neither of things helped you out. It only caused you stress, fueled your anger when it came up. It was frustrating, humiliating to be living with your parents at that age. You were a loser, a complete fuck up.

Seeing your mother sit in Michele's room, crying over a family photo, made you think about how you could make things better.

You would bring your sister back, bring her back home. Your parents would be glad to have their daughter back, your mother would see that you were a man and your father would be proud of your achievement. You could have your best friend back too, any friend would be great at this point but...Michele would be fine. You guys could try to be a happy family again, you could get back on your feet, and then you could go back to being normal. A nobody, rather then just failure.

You asked around, trying to figure out if anyone had known where Michele would have ran off to. There were plenty of unsure answers and many more insults, but you kept trying anyways. You needed to do this...you had to.

Eventually, you got a lead...a general location of where she might have been staying out.

Michele always wanted to move to a big city when she was younger, and she must have tried to live that dream out. The little town you guys grew up in was only half an hour away, and visits over when you were younger was common.

Only half an hour away...you could do that. You could go over and you could find her, bring her back...and that would be that. Easy enough.

It took a lot more planning then you expected to leave. You figured it would take a few days of searching, to find her exact location. You had little money and a hard time communicating with people, but you were determined to do this. You had a time set, that in a few weeks you would go down...stay a few days...and bring back Michele.

You left the day after you made that plan.

You had come home after yet another failed job search, and your father must have already been peeved from his own work. He said some snide comment about your failure, one you are sure he wouldn't have said otherwise. For whatever reason though...

That set you off.

Your father didn't have much patience to read your notes, not like your mother did. He was getting old and his eyes were getting the same way, so there was no way he was going to take the time to read them during an argument. In order to even have any kind of input you had to force yourself to talk, but your weak voice was easily overpowered by your father's booming one. The argument escalated, your mother crying from the back as she watched.

A fuck up Lawrence, that's all you are! A huge fuck up!

As the last word came out your father was knocked down to his ass, holding a bleeding nose. Your mother screamed and rushed to his side, trying to see how bad the damage was.

You left right after that, and rather then a few days you vanished for years.

God...even your mother must hate you for that. You couldn't even control your anger around your own parents...

You've...gotten a bit better about it though. That's what you keep telling yourself anyways.

Trying to find Michele turned out harder then you thought, and you ended up with more dead ends then you expected. Money was an issue, and so the days of you working odd jobs and earning cash under the table became the norm. This took over your search eventually, the repeated failures of trying to find Michele began to weigh in.

You really were a fuck up like your father said.

William was a nice guy, took pity on you due to your speech issues. Just because you couldn't speak well and refused to in most cases turned away plenty of potential employers. The fact that William was so willing and able to let you work despite all your problems was a blessing. Him and his group were all chill, it surprised you when they invited you to hang out between work.

During that time, William taught you how to use sign and you had this unfamiliar sense of friends. Even when they heard about your criminal record and how you admitted that anger was a vice for you they didn't judge you none. There was a lot going on at that time, but when you were around the group it wasn't so bad. You even felt comfortable enough to go to one of their bigger gatherings, just a get together of friends with a case of beer and smokes all about.

Frankie was a friend of a friend, and when the original 'party' was over he invited you to come along with his group to continue the night. William gave you a bit of warning about that guy, and while you should have listened you didn't. You had never been giving the chance to indulge like that, and you were going to take it.

That's when you first learned how alcohol could numb the pain.

Your cigarette addiction came from prison, surprisingly enough. Those little sticks held a lot of buying power, and after enjoying the first couple you could understand why.

The alcohol though? That was all from the city.

The most you had ever drank at home was the occasional sip of wine, nothing more.

That all changed soon enough.

You would accept a drink at anytime, a smoke was always welcomed...but you denied anything harder then that. Frankie called you a pussy plenty of times for that, but you were more worried about losing even more control. There were months were you had even forgotten why you were down there in the first place.

Well, you would have if the depression hadn't set in.

If you had stayed with William and his crew then things may have turned out different, maybe you could have become more stable. But you kept turning to Frankie, kept turning to do bad things. You hated being around him and his friends though, they were sleazes and jerks.

The night Frankie stopped you from pulling the trigger though...

You realized that you were just craving acceptance.

William was giving you that though, why not stay with him?

Maybe it's because he gave you that so easily, and it didn't feel...right.

Like you didn't deserve it.

You had to 'earn' it from Frankie, and that made you savor it more.

How fucking pathetic of you.

Looking up at the clock on the wall, you can see there's only a bit of time left before you can try the front desk again.

You really shouldn't think about all those years ago, it makes you feel...

Just awful.

Terrible, you feel terrible....and you are a terrible person.

Even towards Delilah...even if she doesn't know it. God...you could never tell her this...you could never tell anyone.

You shift around in the plastic chair, uncomfortable by the thought.

By the memory of how you one of those nights in the apartment...all alone and where you couldn't sleep, where you were restless...how you decided to take care of your 'insomnia' the best way you knew how.

You're a bit embarrassed by how often you end up jerking it but...fuck, you just wanted to get it over with and go to sleep. It should have just been a normal thing for you that night. You would think back to those ladies in the magazines or some hot chick you had seen during the day, finish, and roll over to sleep.

Usually a blonde woman, someone similar to Vanessa. Your usual fantasy of being approached, taken to a private room, given a quick strip tease...

Her sitting in your lap, bouncing and rubbing herself against you...talking about how she wants you and how she needs you. Your hands getting to explore her body, the way she would moan and sigh your name...you would pull up her face to kiss her and...

That time, it wasn't Vanessa looking you back, nor was it anyone from a magazine.

She was an adult...but it was those same big gray eyes looking up...wanting...

Wanting you.

You had stopped right there, ashamed by how you had accidentally thought about...about her like that but...it wouldn't have been so bad. You could have lived with the guilt if that's all it had been.

You were a creep though...you ended up commuting a worse sin...you didn't just...just stick to the thought either...you went an-

"Aw man, you know I hate anchovies!" A girl's voice pulls you out from the dark memories, and when you look up you can see it's a college aged couple, walking down the hall.

"Yeah but Chet likes them, he's the one with the broken neck, you can deal with a few salty fish."


Sounds like visiting times are open now.

You rise up from your chair and walk up to the front counter.

"May I help you sir?"

I need to see a woman named Claire Beaumont

"Um, let me see if she's able to see visitors today."

You wait idly by, and can tell that she's taking some looks at your face.

Not your whole face...just the messed up parts.

You bring a hand up to your cheek as if to itch, but really you're trying to cover it up. It looks like you got lucky today, as you're given permission and instructions on how to get to Claire's room.

She's place away with several other women, a vase of flowers on the stand next to her. Claire is asleep when you pull up a chair, sitting next to her. You were warned that she would probably be out of it still, but at least you're allowed to see her.

None of you really thought she would live through this.

You don't try to wake her, and instead allow her to wake on her own. Claire's eyes are only half open when she looks over at you, you can tell already that anything she says and hears will be a groggy mess.

"Lawrence...is that you?" She whispers, her voice weak.

You nod and she smiles a bit. Claire doesn't say anything else, still trying to wake up.

You decide to tell her about:
>The group moving to the apartments
>The group looking for a new place
>The group looking for a new place
Confess your dirty thoughts about Delilah to her
>The group looking for a new place
You try to clear your throat, thinking that it would be easier for her to try and listen then attempt to write it out.

"It's okay Law...it may take me a few tries but I'll read it." Claire smiles at you again, and while you know she is just trying to be courteous there's a nagging feeling in your head.

She doesn't want to hear your voice, no one does. It's not pleasant, it's only annoying

You make sure to write the words big, hoping that they will be easier for her to read.

Cecilia is doing fine. Sam says that she is growing the way she needs to be. She doesn't cry too much, and the cold doesn't seem to bother her either.
Her hair is still thin, but everyone thinks she'll grow up to have blonde hair.
We don't have a proper bed for her yet, but for now we have been using this box that a pair of boots came in. She looks so small laying inside, but Cecilia is able to sleep well enough.
Aria and Jessica talk about how they want to dress her up in cute clothes when she gets a bit bigger, and Betty has been working on a security blanket for when she gets older too.
Cecilia eats a lot right now, but she also sleeps a lot too. I heard that sometimes she smiles, but she'll probably smile a lot more when she gets older.

You wait patiently for Claire to read over your words, watching her hazy eyes glance over them again and again. Quite a few minutes pass before she hands you back the notebook.

"So my baby is healthy? Good...I'm happy then. I was worried she would be sick too. Do you think you could bring her up next time?"

Yeah, if they keep letting you have visitors then we will make sure to keep bringing her up to you. Marilyn has mentioned wanting to see you too, so we'll bring her along

You choose not to mention John, unsure about how she would react to his name right now.

"Gosh...when Cecilia gets old enough she'll be running all over that school. I don't know how I'll be able to keep up with her."

She doesn't know about the school yet. You begin writing the next note and Claire keeps talking.

"I really need to get some pictures of her. It would be nice if I could have one on my nightstand, so I could always have her next to me when I'm alone."

You can't even begin to imagine how awful it is, being stuck in a hospital and not knowing exactly where your child was.

Kind of how your parents feel, you guess.

We are actually looking for a new place for the group. Don't worry about Cecilia, she's fine and so are the others. It's just that Sam doesn't feel like the school is a good long term solution, and he's looking for something better

That was mostly lies and half-truths, but there is no reason to alarm Claire anything further then she needs to be. You can still see that her eyes widen in shock as she reads over this.

"Are you sure it's okay? That...that my baby will be fine?"

Yeah, it's all good. Cecilia will be safe.

"Alright, I trust you Lawrence."

Why do those words sting?

It's obvious that Claire is already tired from all of this, she's struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Before I forget...yawn...tell me how...um...tell me how..." Claire is fighting to find the words, but in her pause to figure out what to say she drifts off again.

You stare at her, at the young woman in the bed before you.

Claire is about your age...why couldn't you have found someone like her?

Hell...she might have had an interest in you when you first joined the group but...

"Claire..." You whisper, but the sound of her name doesn't rouse her from sleep.

She might still be able to hear you, and she might judge you...

But it feels like you need to get this off your chest anyways.

"I haven't been..." You speak softly, hands clutched at your lap as you lean over. It feels like a confession.

"I haven't...been doing...good things. I've let...myself slip...up and...crossed the...line. I...I have...been looking...at someone...the way...I shouldn't...have and..."

You bring a hand up to your head, staring at the ground. Your head hurts, your chest hurts, everything feels like it's in pain.

"I've messed...up. I've...I've made...a little...girl love...me and..."

You deserve every bit of this.

Your face collapses into your hand.

"I think...I love...her too..."

Fucking creep

If Claire heard you say that she would hate you. If anyone else heard you say that they would never be able to look at you the same.

Not that you could blame them.


Claire's voice startles you and for a moment you believe she heard every word that you said.

Looking at her you can see she is staring aimlessly at the ceiling, her eyes barely open.

"You're a...good man, Lawrence..." She repeats. "Next time you come by...will you please bring me....a picture of Cecilia? I miss her so much."

You nod and watch as Claire begins to cry silently. You sit there and wait till she has fallen asleep again before taking your leave. You leave the note about how Cecilia is doing on her night stand, as a small comfort for her.

Out of the hall and to the outside you walk briskly, not wanting to stand long around other people. This hospital is cheap, but you know any bill that Claire racks up here will be a tall one.

You feel hungry, and you would think about how light your wallet felt if you still had it.

That means you're going to need to get a new ID now...shit.

Oh well, you'll be fine for now. A cigarette to curb the hunger-

Fuck, you've already gone through your whole back. The only thing inside this box are snubbed butts. You aren't that desperate though.


You drain the last remaining bit of tobacco from the bent yellow filter, trying to hit that need for nicotine. Tossing the drained butt as you walk down the sidewalk, you remember that you only have one more of those blunts left over from John. You really need to learn to save them, but having them all available like that was obviously too much responsibility for you.

Of course, it's not every day that you get beaten half to death.

Then again, you probably deserve a beating like that everyday, don't you?

John...he wants to see Claire, doesn't he? You imagine Claire wants to see him too, but not for the same reason.

You'll just have to let John know how she was, he'll be glad to hear that she seems to be recovering. You're just thankful that she didn't ask about him today though. You would never have been able to leave that room if she got started talking about him.

If you had to guess, it's right around noon.

As long as you come back before dark, everything should be fine. Delilah would scared if you were out too long anyways.

Shit, you forgot to check in on Sam and John.

You idiot.

They're...grown men. They can handle themselves, it should be fine.

Your body is starting to hurt again...you've been walking around too much.

You're not planning on boarding the bus, but you take a seat at one of the benches for it. There's only one other person sitting here, a young woman on the other end. She's reading the paper, something about Elvis...

You try to read the headline better, but the woman notices you glancing over. She keeps trying to focus on the paper, but it only takes a few moments for her to slam it down on the bench and storm off.

"Creep..." She mutters as she walks to stand elsewhere.

...oh, it's just about Elvis retiring. That's boring.


You know that when you get back up your body is still going to be sore, but you can't just sit here all day. Fuck...you don't have much money right now, do you? You only managed to save about...fifteen bucks away. Not that it was much, but the rest got stolen along with your wallet.

[3/4whoops slightly too long]
Delilah has been footing a lot of the bills for you, and it shouldn't be that way. You're the adult...even if you keep doing stupid things. She shouldn't have to be 'loaning' you money, not that she ever asks you to pay her back.

When the weather warms up hopefully the jobs available will open up too. It sucks trying to find anything in the winter-

Shit, didn't she say her birthday is in January? Hopefully it's not in the next few days...

You got her that ring and all but...at her age she's probably still used to getting birthday presents.

Fourteen...she'll be fourteen years old.

What the hell do you get girls that age?


You don't even know what would be an appropriate gift for her...

Yet you're willing to do all of...that with her?

Jesus, you're just...fucked.

You're a fuck up Lawrence

Hell...have to stop thinking about that right now.

Why are you even trying to think about getting a gift for her right now? You don't have money, and you doubt you would be able to get enough like last time.

Maybe you can just...try to figure out something else for her birthday.

Honestly, she'll probably be happy with anything.

With anything you give her.

That excites you, doesn't it? Fills you with a sense of pleasure, like you're doing something useful.

You're fucking pathetic

Shit, if you're going to get anything else done today you can't just sit here.

You should:
>Check out the school
>Check out Delilah's grandmother's house
>Try to figure out what to do for her birthday
>Visit the bridge and think about [write in]
>>Visit the bridge and think about anchovies
Just kidding, make it about Delilah's well-being and future.
Rolled 3 (1d20)

Buy a fifth of whiskey, go to the bridge, and think about what Delilah's poontang smells like. Probably anchovies. Rolling for how much of the fifth we drink
Rolled 14 (1d20)

To the bridge, and roll to see how likely we are to jump and wish Delilah a happy life
>Check out Delilah's grandmother's house
>Try to figure out what to do for her birthday
>Disregard shitposting prompts
All three
Backing all three.
Go to the bridge
Voting this. What's with all the shitposters?
All from Sue's Discord server just running with the joke of the moment
Voting all three.
The /qst/ Discord, actually. Sue mentioned liking anchovies and that was apparently absolutely hysterical to them.
Just in case things go sideways, it would be good to know if the house is an option for Delilah to hide out at. Who knows, maybe her grandmother will have returned too?

Big fucking chance.

You force yourself to stand, your legs begging to continue resting. It's fine, this walking is good for you anyways, right? Especially now since you ran out of smokes. Hell, it would be good to kick your addiction. Save you some cash and those extra years of life.

Fuck, that only makes you wish you had a smoke even more.


Down the sidewalk and through the neighborhoods. Passing by people you try to avoid, avoid looking at them, avoid having them look at you. Try not to look so angry while you walk, you've had that problem of just...looking mad, even when you really aren't. Shit...do you do that around Delilah too? Hopefully not...

Probably should have grabbed something to eat, oh well. Maybe you can grab something at the house. You need to do a better job at taking care of yourself, you really do.

The streets are starting to look nicer, bigger, better care put in retaining a nice look. More money put in, more time, more everything...everything that the rest of the world doesn't have. You once again look out of place as you walk by metal and sodden fences and yards that would undoubtedly be trimmed and maintained meticulously in the summer.

Stop mulling over things like that, it's useless. If you're going to be hammering your head over something then...then think about what to do for Delilah's birthday. What are you supposed to do with fifteen bucks? You could probably find a way to scrape together more, but it might be tight... At least you don't have to try and scrounge up three hundred dollars in two days this time. But hell, what do you get a girl her age? What did your parents get Michele...

You can't remember all that well...it feels like your father just took her out that day to pick out some clothes and maybe some music or something? Maybe your mother got her some makeup too, shit...what did you get her? There's a wave of deja vu as you realize that twelve year old you was also facing the same problem. Are you really this bad with women?

Nah...just girls. If this was a woman you were getting a gift for then it would be a bit different. This is one of those weird times where she is too old for girl things but maybe not quite old enough to enjoy 'women' things yet. It's difficult...

Well, she likes books, right? Maybe you can find her some...she's still missing her copy of The Princess Diaries.

She's...also missing her underwear too. And her rabbit and all those photos of her from inside.

Jesus, it's just...fucked up.

All of it is just so fucked. If you ever get your hands on the fucker who did tha-

Don't forget what you did too

Not the same thing. It's not the same thing though, right? You didn't take or steal anything...didn't do anything to scare her...all you did was-

Wouldn't she be scared if she knew

That's why...she never will. That was a slip up on your part, and you'll never think about it ever again.


You won't even tell completely tell her what happened that one night, she trusts you so much and yet you keep information hidden from her.

You just don't want her scared of you.

Whatever helps you sleep at night.

Nothing does.

Except for jer-

The iron gate is fastened shut, and it looks like the front door is closed. You had locked it when those men showed up, but it seemed like they were able to get in easily enough. Did they have a key?

There's the sound of children playing in one of the farther off yards as you go down the sidewalk, one of the few that remains dusted with snow.

And ice, you find out when you nearly slip. You're starting to doubt that it would be this simple, that she would just be home.

Trying the door handle, you can see that it is unlocked, but the chain on the inside has been fastened. Peering inside the house you can see the lights are all off still, back door closed, and freezing air drifting out. No one has been here in a long while.

There's no way you could simply reach inside and undo the chain but...you could break it easily enough, actually.

Still, it would be worth checking out the backyard first and see if there is a way in that way.

There's a waist high fence that divides the sliver of space between the front yard and the back yard, and it's not much wider either. What's up with rich people and their need for fences just...everywhere?

Doing your best to not trample over the plants going by the fence, you attempt to brace yourself to make the trip over. It's only a few feet high, but those few feet feel like hell on your body.

At least you didn't have to scale that tall fence in the back...

Or avoid getting shot at. Again.

There's not much snow in the backyard, but there's also no foot prints. No one has been been here recently, that means. If you had to guess then no one has been here since you had came last.

You try the backdoor, but of course it's locked. Of fucking course...

Maybe one of the windows will be easier to try.

Nope, not unless you want to risk busting the glass then those things are remaining shut.

Try the front again? You can test that chain maybe and the-

"Hey, big guy! I saw you back there!"

Shit...who the hell is that? It sounds like a boy-

Obnoxious...it's that one boy from when you were here last time, isn't it? Dammit, of course he had to show up. You remain in the backyard, trying to figure out what to do.

"C'mon! Say something...er, if you can...? Or come out or something! If it ain't you then I'll like...have to calls the cops!"

Looking back at the fence, you consider scaling that without having to see the boy. Your muscles are already objecting to that feat though, and you doubt you'll have a gentle landing.

Still...you can't just sit here, can you? Especially if his threat of calling the police is a real one...

Alright. You'll just;
>Come around up front, talk to the boy briefly then leave
>Go up front, try to break the chain, and deal with the boy
>Try to jump the back fence
>Wait here on the chance he leaves
Talk to the boy and carefully explain what you are doing
>Come around up front, talk to the boy briefly then leave
Basically explain we were trying to see if Mrs. Esposito had returned on behalf of her granddaughter.
I think I've missed or forgotten something. What happened between John and Claire?
It's a ~mystery~.
Pull out granny's pistol and gun the fucker down. No one cared when there was gunshots last time so no one should care now
I'm pretty sure John is the baby's daddy.
Shit...this brat better not get you into any extra trouble. It would be for the best if you just came around and talked to him for a bit before making your way out. Looking like you are trying to break into a house isn't going to be too good.

Well...it doesn't look like you are doing that, you just...kinda are actually.

As you begin to walk towards the front you notice that one of the windows on the second story is cracked open, just a bit. Far too high for you to reach, and there's no way you could climb it.

By the time you have a leg over the mini fence the brat has already ran up to where you are.

"Ha! I knew it was you!" What an annoying kid. "One of my friends say you walking up and said, Whoa he's huge! And I said I knew who it was and he was like 'no way', and uh...here I am now!"

You don't even try to acknowledge what he says as you force your other leg over, wincing at the tenderness in your body.

"You out of shape or something? That fence isn't that tall. Maybe you should try working out or something."

Alright, just humor him for a bit and then you can head out and as far away from him as you can get. He watches as you begin writing, and you can tell he's impatient.

"Can't you just tell me what you're doing? Or is this some like, weirdo thing?"

Fucking annoying...

I was trying to see if Mrs. Esposito had came home. Her granddaughter wanted to know, and so I came down for her to check

"Oh you mean that girl you were with? Where is she? I don't see her." The boy is trying to look past you, looking for Delilah.

You literally just let him know that you came down here for her...

She's at home right now, I came down alone

"Ah that sucks. I wanted to see her again, she was like...kinda hot." The boy sounds rather disappointed, and you can't help but feel good about that.

I'm guessing you haven't seen her around either?

"Who? The girl?"

No, you fucking idiot.

No, Mrs. Esposito

"Oh, no. Gram mentioned that no one has seen her for a while."

Where would she have gone then? It's weird that she wouldn't be back yet, right? This will probably worry Delilah though, maybe keep it under wraps for now. Just head out and away from here, and try to figure out what's going on. Walk away and leave this kid behind and-

"Uh, so those weird dudes that were chasing you guys? The ones with the gun?"

You stop in your tracks and look back at him.

"Well they uh, came by around my house like the day after. Was asking me about that girl, uh....Delilah? Wanted to know stuff about her."

What the hell did you tell them?

And what did you say?

"They just asked like, if I knew anything about her. I don't, obviously. I just said she was in the house when I came over and that she was Mrs. Esposito's granddaughter. I uh, also mentioned she was around a big tall dude, you."

Shit...actually, that's information they probably already knew.

Did they mention anything else?

"Uh, just to call them if I saw you guys again. They wrote down this number for me-"

You grab his shoulders, ignoring your notebook and pen.

"You can't...call them."

"What? Dude your voice is all weird, I can barely understand it-"

"Whatever...you do...you better...not call...them."

"Are you guys in trouble with them or something? I thought they were maybe cops or something, but then there was a squad car out here trying to ask people where the shot came from when I came back so I uh...I don't think those guys were."

"Listen to...me. If you...call them...and tell...them any...thing, then...you could...end up...hurting Delilah...more. Do you...understand?"

"They're after her? I thought they were coming after you, they like...shot you and all."

"No. They want...to hurt...Delilah, and ...if you ...give them...any infor-mation...then it's...like you...put the...gun against...her head." Your grip is tight on his shoulders, he's obviously getting scared.

"Let go of me man!" He rights off your grip, trying to hide his fear. You release him, not wanting him to cause a scene.

"I won't, alright? I won't call them! If they're so dangerous then why not call the cops?"

Because we are homeless and that will get Delilah put in care of the state

Because we have proof right now and cops are a stickler for that

Because if whoever is doing this sending out people to track her, chances are they have more then enough money to buy their way out of trouble

Because not everyone can have their problems solved with daddy's credit card, you little brat

Because it's a complicated situation

"Whatever, sounds dumb. But I won't call them."

Can you give me that number?

"Why do you want it? No offense, but I don't think you're the type of dude that likes talking on the phon-"

"Just give...it to...me."

"Fine fine, sheesh. Let me try to remember it..."

You hand the pen over to the kid, Joffery or Jeffery or whatever his name is, and try to wait patiently for him to write down the number.

"Uh, there. Pretty sure that's it. It doesn't look like a local number or anything though." He hands it back to you. You don't recognize the number either-

Why is there a second number and Jeffery written underneath it?

"I uh, also put my number down. Just in case that girl wanted to call me."

Fat chance.

You pocket both numbers regardless. You aren't exactly sure what you can do with that information, but it might be good to have it anyways. You turn to walk away again, not leaving another word with the boy.

"Uh, bye, I guess. Try not to get shot and um...tell Delilah I said hi!"

Not looking back you give him a half assed wave.

You could really go for a cigarette right now.


Out of the neighborhood and back onto the streets, back to where you fit in better. Where broken down, rusted, and worn out signs and buildings are more familiar to you...better suited for you. Probably too good for you, actually.


You're itching for a smoke, but you'll try to hold it off as long as possible. Maybe see about bumming a cig off of John or Mabel when you get back.

Thinking of John and Sam...they should be back by now, right? You didn't recall hearing them come in last night, but you also weren't sober when you fell asleep.

Mid-afternoon now, still some time before it gets dark.

You know have that number, but no clue on what to do with it.

Just...maybe think over everything later. It would be good to eat something too.


Gas station hamburger.

It's crappy, but it's cheap.

You lean up against the brick wall of the store you bought this from, tearing away at it. Shit, you need to remember to eat more often. And better. And drink more water and whatever. Mom would throw a fit if she knew how you were taking care of yourself.

She would throw a fit over a lot of the things you do, actually.

You can't help but think about how much your mom wanted grandkids to spoil. Your father would probably have gone full grandpa mode too, actually.

Too late for those dreams though. Just yet another disappointment for them.

Hell, when you were still living with them your mother tried to set you on dates with her friend's daughters and nieces. Never worked out though.

I just want you to bring home a nice girl one day, fuzzy

You don't really see that happening.

Just another way you have failed your parents.

You'll probably head back now, but more then likely you'll just...end up mulling around the streets a bit before you actually go back in.

There's still a tugging feeling about
>Charlie and the attack
>Claire and her baby
>Jeffery and the neighborhood
>Delilah wanting sex
Charlie and the attack. We didn't think about what really happened when we had that option and I'm dying to know
>Charlie and the attack
>Delilah wanting sex
Let's feel uncomfortable and wonder where she got the idea from
What could go wrong
Walking down the street, wasting no else's time but your own, scratching at your cheek gives you a painful reminder of what went down the other night.

As far as Delilah knows, you were mugged, dragged off to Charlie's, and then beaten mercilessly.

It's true that you had been just walking down the street that night, trying to clear your head. That you were approached out of the alley and threatened with a knife to hand over your wallet. You had recognized the guys doing it, but that they didn't recognize you...not right away. There could have been enough time for you to escape before they realized who you really were.

Say hello...to Preston...

You had to be a fucking smart ass about it though, muttering that under your breath as you tried to walk away. Just loud enough...just enough for one of them to hear. Hearing them put the pieces together, you ran. Couldn't run fast enough, and you ended up dead-legged and sprawled on the sidewalk. Maybe you could have gotten back up and continued running, but one of those fuckers decked you a nasty hit to the head. Didn't really expect any of them to have the luxury of affording a car either, not that it was a nice one. Piece of shit held together by tape, glue, and sheer hope that it wouldn't collapse on the street.

Charlie's place was nearby, a lot closer to the apartments then you imagined. He hadn't been that well off when you...when you attacked him that one night, but he at least had a decent enough place. This was an absolute and grimy hell hole. Just as bad as the place the group is staying in, except Charlie had to pay rent for this half built trap house.

No one on the inside objected to seeing your bleeding face dragged through the halls, to where Charlie was living.

You really fucked up his life.

There had to be three or four other guys living there, a woman in the kitchen with a baby at her hip...if you had to guess, it was Charlie's current girlfriend.

He was just as shocked as you were to see him, to see the man who had crippled him thrown down at his feet, a man he had not seen since those days in court.
And where you knelt on the ground, expecting him to curse you, blame all of his current problems on your actions...

Charlie actually apologized to you, instead.

An apology for causing you pain, for hurting you.

An apology that should have gone to Michele.

You wouldn't have even became the way you were if it wasn't for what Charlie did all those years ago. If he hadn't kept trying to get Michele to sleep with all of his friends, hadn't lured her over to his house just so they all could...

It wasn't you that needed the apology, and it was too late for Michele.
Not that an apology would have eased her pain and suffering from that night.
She had trusted Charlie so much, believing him when he said that the pills he used were okay, trusting him enough to begin using them herself...becoming addicted.

Michele had trusted Charlie till the moment he roofied her drink.

Drugged her so that she wouldn't be able to say no to that night.

Took advantage of her so that he could get a few cheap thrills with his buddies.

Charlie was trying to apologize for all of that, and it meant nothing. It offered little solace to your bleeding and broken heart, couldn't cover the gap that was missing in you.

Michele was dead and gone forever, you became a mute freak, and it was all his fault.

Of course you cursed him anyways, yelled at how this all meant nothing to you. Your throat burnt, your lungs ached, but you were trying to let all your anger out.

Still, Charlie could do nothing but offer more of his apologies. He meant every word of it, but you didn't care. Nothing he could do would fix what happened to you.

When you jumped up to knock the shit out of him, he didn't try to stop you. As you started beating him on the ground, he did nothing. It didn't go on for long, but you got in every hit that you could manage.

You didn't tell Delilah that you beat any already crippled man trying to offer you what little he could.

How when you were dragged off and away, Charlie kept trying to lift himself up and apologize, how you shouted one last bit before pulled out of the apartment

I'm glad...Preston is...dead

Of course you knew he had died, you had seen it in the papers.

There's no way in hell you could have let Delilah know this.

Part of you was glad that Preston was dead, and eye for an eye.

While they took you out to that parking lot, the place where you were beaten and maimed, they told you how they had to tell Preston's girlfriend about what happened, how his son and daughter would start elementary school without a father in their life anymore, how they might end up in foster homes.

And then you realized that there was still a good part of you that felt regret.

You were pissed at Charlie, and nothing he could say or do could ever fix Michele.

But he was trying to get his life back together, and you ruined that.

Preston just wanted revenge for Charlie, you doubt he would have done more then beat the living hell out of you.

But now he's dead, and you've ruined any future his children could have had.

That's why you didn't fight back.

This was retribution, something you deserved, something that was a long awaited due for all the crap you had done over the years. Your anger had landed you in more trouble then it solved, and even with knowing that you let it take control. If you hadn't attacked Charlie back there then they probably would have let you go. If you hadn't said you were glad that Preston was dead then you wouldn't been had a knife forced into your mouth.

But you have yet to control yourself completely, and this is where you are now.

Fuck...you couldn't ever tell Delilah that full story. You painted yourself as some sort of martyr, yet you antagonized most of it.

You're just a fuck up

You really are.

It's not always anger that you feel though. There have plenty of times when you look peeved, but really you're just trying to mask the crippling despair and loneliness you feel inside. You want to be close to people, but you fear rejection...

And so you make sure you're the one to reject them away first.

There have been weeks where if you weren't angry, then you were just sad. Upset. Sinking into a dark pit, and nothing you could do would bring you out of it. You could just die, and it feels like no one in the world would care.

And then you realized that you could just...end your suffering.

Put an end too all of your misery.

Big tough guy is afraid of heights, but he keeps thinking about jumping off the bridge. How fucking funny is that?
Not at all.

But maybe the world would be better off without a guy like you. As a kid you always imagined becoming the type of guy to protect the innocent, protect those who couldn't protect themselves from the big awful bad guys. You might not be able to do that...

But you could get rid of one bad guy just by killing yourself.


You can't have those thoughts anymore. Even with everything the way it is, the awkwardness of the situation...

Delilah still needs you right now.

She might not know it, but she's the one hand keeping you from falling into that dark pit again.

Relying on a teenage girl...

How fucking pathetic.

The apartments come up to view, and you figure its about time you just head back now.

Delilah is inside, and once again you figure she'll want to sleep by you.

Not that you mind, but you know that you should.

It's bad enough that you woke up with morning wood around her, but...what are you supposed to do if she keeps asking to try out sex? You know she's not ready, and that if she somehow managed to get to the point of...of penetration then she's just going to be forcing herself to do it. There's no way in hell you could go through it if she didn't want to...but what if she...if she did end up getting better? Enough to want it? Or...if Delilah wanted all the steps that came before that? You've been willing to kiss her, but how much further could you take it...

Could you even get it up properly? Her body is in no means like a little kid's, but there's just those...those little things that would remind you of her age.

She wouldn't have a clue about what she was supposed to do...anything she knows would come from those nights...not that you probably do much better.

But...if she wanted to try and take it slow...one step at a time...it might help her warm up to everything, help her slowly learn to not be scared of all it...

Fuck...why the hell are you even considering the what-ifs? This shouldn't be an option, this should be a no, regardless of the situation.

Delilah would probably cry her eyes out if you denied her...

Damned if you don't...a fucking creep if you do.


You enter the apartment building, nodding in thanks to Warren for letting you in. To your surprise the lobby is otherwise empty.

Where the hell did those guys go?

You fear the worst as you rush to the hall, but you see no signs of them...nothing too out of the ordinary. Maybe they all went to patrol the streets for their next hit...maybe Warren kicked them out? Nah...he wouldn't do that, but it's still odd that they would all be gone.

Maybe they'll never come back, and that is perfectly fine with you.

Coming up to the door, ready to announce your arrival safe and sound, you remember Sarah had been talking about an event on Saturday. Her grandfather had died recently, but she was still going to play at the event. You know some of the others are going too, you're pretty sure Delilah is.

What if she asks you to go? It's supposed to be a nice event, like the play was. You know you kind of embarrassed her by not dressing up properly, but at least you still went. But now with your face the way it is...

You can barely stand to have normal people on the street looking at it. You would hate every second of it if you knew it was the rich and uppity type looking and judging you.

But...still, if Delilah wanted to go...

She wouldn't be there alone though, she would be gone with a group of friends.

It may be for the best if you told her no, just explained to her that you wouldn't feel good going. Course if she was to bring out the tears you might have to change your mind but...

You knock at the door, thinking about how you'll handle the situation when it comes.

[4/5shit, just slightlytoolong]
Jessica opens the door for you soon enough.

"Oh! Hey Law-"

"Lawrence is back?" Delilah's voice pipes up from inside and you can see her rushing over to where you are.

"You're fine today, r-right? Didn't get or anything?" Even though she's obviously concerned, you can't help but find it cute. You open your arms wide, showing that you came back fine.

"Oh good! I mean um, that's good..." Delilah is trying to play it as if she wasn't all that concerned, but you know she was. "I uh, I'm playing a game with the kids right now but um...I'll come hang out with you later if you want and uh...i-if you don't mind me sleeping with you tonight...sleeping in your room."

Of course you don't mind, that's what you want to say.

What do you write her?
Your conscience begets your disgust at your past acts.

We write something to avoid another situation where Delilah may ask/beg us to go further with the current "relationship".
ayyy gurl dat pussy better be wet tonite ya feel me
Maybe make sure with Jessica that it's not weird that Delilah prefers sleeping in our room, but if she's sure that's what she wants.
Something like this yeah
Delilah is eager for your answer, her eyes watching every movement of your pen. It's obvious that she wants to spend the night with you again, and that a flat out no would break her heart. However, too willing of a yes would only further cement the dangerous line you toe.

Damned if you do, damned it you don't.

Course, damned if you do would present a larger heap of troubles, while damned if you don't would just make the one person who looks up to you unhappy. But honestly? It's hard to tell which is worse.

It doesn't matter to me, you can sleep where ever you like

An answer that gives her permission without any creepy connotations. You hope so, anyways. Jessica can read over her shoulder easily enough, and despite your words not holding any of your guilt you can't help but worry if it's there for her to see.

Delilah looks like she is ready to speak, probably to ask if it's okay, but Thompson calls her back over to the boardgames.

"Ah-, sorry. I left during my turn, um...I'll see you later." The notebook is pushed back into your hands as she rushes over to join the children. Sitting among the four of them, she really stands out the matured one. You're pretty sure Marilyn is only two or three years younger, and while she does her best to act grown up there's still a mile of difference between the two.
Yet, when she stands with the adults...

"How did your errands go?"
You forget that Jessica is still standing in front of you, acting friendly. Not that you usually tell people what you are doing, but you don't mind talking with her. She's a nice girl, taking on more then her share of responsibility.

Fine, everything went smooth today. Did John and Sam make it back? I didn't hear them last night, but I might have slept through it too.

As you hand the note over you can see Jessica's eyes are at your face, opening wide when she spots the vulgar mark in your cheek. She doesn't mention it, and you're glad. Not that you expected her to be brash or rude about it, but the less you have to explain the miserable tale the better.

"Um, yeah. They came back but only for a bit, I think they were gone all night." Jessica attempts to hide the concern her voice, but her words waver just enough to give it away. "I heard them in the hall, talking to themselves. Marilyn wanted to see him, but I made her stay here while I checked in on them. They seemed really tired though, like they hadn't slept. Said they were still working on things but...but it didn't sound like it was going all too smoothly..."

You figured it wouldn't be easy. If it was then you guys wouldn't be stuck at this freezing, rat infested roach motel of a building.

"I think they took like, a two hour nap, but they went back out again. Said they would for sure try to come back before dark this time, but..." Her face tells you what you need to know.

Did they mention needing help?

"Uh uh, they just said to make sure we have someone around with uh, muscle. Mabel has been gone for work though and with you out for the day...well, it was a bit scary. No one stopped by though, so it was just those babysitter fears coming in but uh, well...I'm glad your back Law. You get my twenty bucks yet?" Jessica pokes out her tongue, trying to lighten the mood. You smile, and write down your answer.

No, but I'll take out a loan next time I go out

"Sure you will, sure you will. The longer you hold it out, the more interest it gain y'know. By the time you get around to paying it back you might as well just buy me a house."

I'll buy you a cardboard box. Those make nice houses

"Fine, but we better be talking about a refrigerator sized box. Jess don;t settle for less then that." Jessica is grinning wide at this, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. You smile back, but there's still a nagging feeling.

She must think it's strange that Delilah wants to sleep in your room all the time...
And even stranger that you so willingly allow it.

With no one else around to witness this, you decide to ask her about the matter.

You don't think it's too strange that she likes sleeping in my room, do you?

"Who? Bunny?" Jessica glances over at Delilah, hunched over as she moves her piece on the board. You nod, though you doubt you needed to confirm this answer.

"Well like..." Jessica scratches at her cheek as she thinks. "I wouldn't...say it's weird? Well, I guess kinda. I would figure most girls her age would want to, you know...stick around with girls her age. She enjoys hanging out over here and all that jazz, but...well...I guess she isn't like normal girls anymore, is she?"

There's sadness in the truth of Jessica's words, once again something you don't need to confirm.

"Then again, if I had the option to sleep in a room with a buncha little kids and my boyfriend, I'd probably pick the boyfriend-"

Your heart catches in your throat at this. Is she trying to suggest...?

"Guess I would need a boyfriend for that option. I'm not like, good at this kinda stuff though, you know? I was worried that she would just...constantly be scared around boys all the time though, not that I could blame her if she was. But...well, you're a good guy Law. I'm sure you came to her in a time of need and she just kinda clings to you now for that support. She needs something to hang on to, and from what I've heard about, sometimes the thing people like her end up clinging to is...it lands them in a worse position then they were in before. Drugs, booze...uh, 'street walking'...that kinda thing."

You sadly know that these words ring true.

Michele is an example of that.

"I um...I don't know about when she's around you but..." Jessica glances back again before facing you, leaning in and lowering her voice.

"I never saw it before, but when she was sleeping in here I would end up waking up a lot...always thought it was Lisa, but Bunny would just be whimpering and crying in her sleep...like she was having night terrors or something. I never woke her up because I didn't want to scare her but...it's hard just watching her go through that alone. It really, really is. There's not much I can offer her but some nice words and friendship."

It looks like Jessica plays around with this next sentence before speaking again.

"Not that I ever doubted you or anything, I swear to that Law. But those first few days, when she was constantly tagging along with you I was a bit worried about her. Some of those kids get kinda messed up from that kinda thing and it just...messes with them. Messes with the way they think they should handle situations. Back when I was in school there was a girl like that. I didn't really understand the situation at the time, but apparently she had been uh..." Jessica grimaces.

"Her father had...taken advantage of her a lot when she was little. He went to prison and it was this huge scandal, but they kept making her go to school like nothing had happened. She was kinda crazy...angry, acting out, skipping class, never turning in projects. Right before high school she started sleeping around a lot too, everyone knew that. Course no one knew that she was doing it because she thought that's how she needed to earn affections...Jesus...isn't that fucked up? This poor girl was raped by her father for years, and the only way she thought she could earn any kind of love was through sex."

Jessica's face is overcome with a feeling of guilt, a guilt pulled out from deep down inside.

"And we all called her a slut for it. Didn't care about what happened to her, didn't care that she was being tossed around and used. She was already broken, and everyone kept smashing those pieces even further. By our freshman year of high school...only a few weeks into the semester..." Her eyes have started to become teary, the memory bringing on a new wave of emotion.

"She killed herself. Left a note saying that she just wanted to be accepted and loved, that she just wanted some friends. That she knew everyone spoke behind her back, that none of the guys she slept with actually cared, that she just wanted anyone to tell her she would be okay. Everyone at school suddenly acted like they cared now that she was dead bu-...sorry...I went off on a tangent. What I'm trying to say is, there's a lot of awful things she could fall into to cope with all of this. There's been times when I'd considered um, less then pleasant options, but with her there's just...there's just that looming threat of that. I don't want to see her fall down that same hole, to end up the same way that girl from school did. So if that means she feels safer sleeping in your room at night then so be it."

Jessica wipes her nose on her sleeve and replaces the sorrow with a smile.

"Don't you worry though. One night all of us girls will have a totally awesome sleepover, and you'll be super jealous. I'd consider letting you join, but the ticket for you is about oh...twenty dollars."

In your dreams, you would just want to paint my nails or something

"Hey now, I think a nice shade of blackberry polish would look good on you!"


After confirming with Jessica that you'll just be in your room, you leave her to be. You feel rather bad about not helping John and Sam out, but you also realize why it's good for you to stay there with everyone. You rather hope that a situation requiring your muscles will end up coming up anytime soon.

For now you retire to your room, the ever freezing-

The door is open slightly, and you can hear someone inside.


You look through the crack as best as you can without making any noises. Jesus, what if it's a bunch of guys, there's not really much that you can do on your own...

...thank god.

It looks like it's just some drunk asshole on the ground.

You swing the door open wide, making sure your presence into the room is as big as you are. Didn't seem to matter, as the guy barely noticed you.

He does notice when you loom over him, the glare on your face staring a hole at him.

"Jeezus man...da hell you doin' in mah room...?"

You don't say anything, knowing that he's much too out of the ability to read anything you write or to try and listen to what you say.

"Man yer creepin' me out...why duncha just scram already?"

You don't let up. It pisses off the guy, just as much as you're pissed off that he is in your room you imagine.

"Lis'en here ya...ya mangled mouth bas'ard..." He can barely stand on his feet, and from the look on his face it seems like he is about to lose what little lunch he might have. You've never moved with such quick speed as you just did, pushing the man out and into the hallway before he can cause any kind of mess in your space.
Looking at the room it seems like he may have briefly touched through some of the belongings, but when you shoved him away you doubt he had anything on him. If anything he was just trying to fill his need for drunken curiosity in the worst way possible.
You stuff the items barely strewn from your bag back to where they belong. It's annoying, but otherwise it doesn't seemed to have caused too much harm-

Shit, it looks like he tried going through Delilah's bag too. There are a few pieces of clothing hanging over the edge rather then tossed out to the ground, and looking over it seems like he got bored rather quickly.

Trying not to linger too long, you lightly toss the clothes back into her bag. It would probably scare her even more if she knew her things had been rifled through again, even if nothing had been stolen this time. There's a slight wave of guilt that rushes over you, but you hide it away as you zip up the bag. If she notices you'll just...just tell her that you tripped over it or something stupid like that. There's no need to get her riled up over something that's not a big deal.

Not a big deal to you guys...but to a normal person the sound of anyone doing any kind of snooping through their belongings is a scary thing.

But you guys aren't really normal people, are you?

Your muscles are aching from today's trip, begging for anything to release the pain.

With a sploof and Sam being gone, you could easily light up right now if you wanted to.

Right now, you should
>Light up
>Save it for another time


>Think about how you would tell your parents about Michele
>Think about boundaries you should set up
>Think about [write in]

Last update for the nighto players
>Save it for another time
Have to keep alert so Jessica doesn't have to worry.

>Think about how you would tell your parents about Michele
>Save it for later
>Think about how you would tell your parents about Michele
Heyo, writing an update right now, but as a heads up;

I will be going to meet my gramgram and sister in a few towns over and might have to stay the night. This means only one or two updates today, so apologies in advance!
It would be best if you stayed frosty right now and saved that final blunt for later. That's not going to stop you from laying down though. Fucking hurts everything getting to the floor, but once you're down there on your back it's a nice sense of relief.

Of course, you're going to ruin any sense of easy going you have by thinking about Michele again. More specifically...how the hell could you break the news to your parents? It must be a fucking nightmare for them, not knowing anything about their kids right now.

Even though you'd rather not, the right thing to do would be to at least let them know about Michele, even if that means leaving out some of the nit and grit. Your mom would have a straight up heart attack if she knew what Michele had become when she ran away, she already freaked out enough when she found those prescription pills in her pocket that one day. Mom didn't even realized that those were supposed to be crushed and snorted up...mom didn't know a lot of things like that. She liked her wine well enough, but both of your parents were pretty straight laced for the most part.

How the hell did you two end up in the situations you're in then?

No use dwelling on that thought right now. It would be more productive to think about just how you will have to tell your parents. A phone call is out of the question. They would barely be able to understand you and the idea of someone else doing the talking doesn't really bide you over well. You briefly consider a letter, but that would be inconsiderate as hell.

This is really something that you would need to do in person.

They're going to have questions and you'll have a few answers, even if they aren't really satisfactory. That would mean making the trip out there to their house though. A Gray Hound bus might carry you there...might have to trek the last half of the way. It would be best for you to come to them cleaned up, not looking like a man who has essentially been homeless for the last few years. What a double whammy...

Hello mom and dad. You'll be happy to hear your son is an alcoholic bum with a teenage girl flocking him and your daughter is a dead junkie hooker

You shouldn't call Michele that, you don't want those words to be your memory of her. God...you aren't prepared to see your mother break down like that...to see your father try and keep himself in check. Your father never cried, had that mantra that a man was never supposed to, but you're fairly certain even something like this might break the big man.
They'll be even more devastated to hear they missed the funeral, to hear the kind of place she's buried in. It wouldn't be too far fetched for your father to pay to have her body relocated, buried in the place she was raised, surrounded by green grass and flowers and not by the gray desolation of this place.

How fucking funny. You guys used to love coming over to this city as kids, but now it's become somewhat of a hell for you. The worst part is...you doubt you could ever properly readjust to a small town again. It's so easy to become forgotten in a place like this, and anywhere smaller would just cause you to stand out. Even if you do look ghastly you at least fit in here.

Don't get off topic, continue planning. A trip out to their place would be a rather big one either way. You would need to look cleaned up, get down there, tell them the news, and leave before they try to make you stay or ask any other questions from you.

Sounds easy enough, but you know damn well that it won't be. That is...if they even open the door to you. They might hate you, fear you, angry that you came back. If that's the case, if they refuse to let you in then you'll just have to leave them a note and let it be.
It would only be right if they were the ones pushing you away this time.

Course...you would need to try and figure out when to go. No time soon, but you shouldn't let it drag on too long. Maybe when it starts becoming warmer, in the spring...that should be good. Especially if you'll have to walk there or sleep outside on the way back.

You grimace at the memory.

Sleeping in alleys and park benches was fucking awful. Dirty and cold, it was hardly good for catching any rest. And then you always had police booting you away or punks trying to mess with you...you're glad those days are over for now. If anything you have it easier then most out on the street, you have a group that tries to work together.

You could be trying to scavenge for thrown out and expired food from dumpsters behind grocery stores again, wearing shoes pieced together with tape, wallowing further down into that feeling of utter worthlessness as you struggled to get through each day. Course that could all change easily enough, but for now...for now you're doing pretty good. Roof above your head, no need to constantly worry where the next meal is coming from, fairly good people around you...
You equally as well could be huddled over in some god forsaken alleyway, trying not to freeze to death as people passed by on the street.

That could have been anyone in the group...god...especially the kids.
That could have been Delilah if you hadn't chased her down for so long.

Or worse...you know those teens walking the street at night aren't just doing it for fun. Fuck...that leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You remember the harsh reality of living out on the streets and how no one cares, the time when the grimness of the situation really came to you.

It had been when you first were looking for Michele, traveling the streets trying to find yet another apartment she might have been staying at. It was evening, a warm one during the summer, and you passed by a building and came to realize that the address you had received was wrong.

While standing there trying to figure out what to do, you looked across the street where people were crossing. In between them, tucked away in the alley, a wrinkled and hunched over man sat in a wheelchair. You were thinking that maybe he was maybe waiting for an opening to roll out, but as plenty of opportunities came and went the man remained where he was. You could see that he would reach out for someone occasionally, it looked like he was asking for help. No one stopped to do anything though, no one except this one guy.

He looked at the old man and kicked the ever loving hell out of his chair before walking away, mentioning something about 'scum' and 'draining'. You rushed over when you saw the man start to spasm after this, but there was nothing you could do but watch him fade away. It was unclear if he was asking for help because he was already dying or if the force of the attack did him in, but you watched him died and came to see that no one cared if someone like him was gone. No one else stopped on the street to check on him, to ask if he was okay. He was just another blemish on society for all they cared, probably tucked there by the people stick of keeping him alive. This man had no name, no story, nothing to stand for the many years he had lived. In only a moment, all that effort vanished.

Being the coward you are, you ran as far away as you could, ran till your legs tried to collapse underneath you. Maybe you could have done something, even if you couldn't save him you could have headed over there sooner and at least made sure the guy didn't die so scared and alone and...

Fuck, what a terrible memory. It gave you nightmares for weeks.
What a terrible man you are, just standing by and watching that happen.
But once again, you're going to be placing it out of sight and out of mind, aren't you?


You end up looking at the uneven and cracked texture of the ceiling for...God knows how long. There's the occasional voice or two in the hallway, fairly certain Mabel and Eric return back at some point. They like to be social able, yet here you lay just looking at nothing. Course it's not really like you can readily join in conversations. Sometimes its more of a pain just to try, so you don't try. And here you go, trying to feel sorry for yourself again...

Pathetic man, it's pathetic for someone like you to wallow in self pity.

Maybe that's why you always turn it into hate instead. People don't like dealing with others sorrow, so it's best to turn it into something else.
And for you, that means you fucking hate yourself. To be fair, you're not the only one.

Plenty of other people fucking hate you too, Lawrence.

You fuck up


You must have fallen asleep by accident, the room much darker then it was only a moment ago. It's gentle knocking that pulls you out of your sleep, and fumbling for the flashlight you head over to the door. Maybe it's Sam or John returning-

Nope, just Delilah standing there. She lights up again as she sees you, turning to quickly wave back at Mabel down the way.

"Did I wake you up?" She asks, noticing as you yawn.

"Is...fine." You make sure the door is fastened tight, double checking that all the locks are in place. If something happened because you didn't make sure it was as safe as it could be then you would never forgive yourself.

"What time...is it?"

"Oh uh, I think Mabel mentioned it was about like, eight-thirty?"

Jesus, you slept hard then. Maybe? You aren't really sure when you drifted off. Not that it helped too much, you're still tired as hell.

"So um, how was your day?" Delilah is trying to make it seem like a normal question, like she isn't dying to know what you did all day.

"Was fine. Didn't get...messed up." You know that answer doesn't quite satisfy her itch, the way she scowls a bit and puffs the side of her cheek giving away her mild annoyance.

"And what...about you? How was...being locked...up here...for you?"

"All I did was hang out with the younger kids. It was fine but even that gets kinda boring after the first few hours. I never realized how much little kids take games seriously-"

"Did you...lose to...them a...lot? Or did...they let...you win...?" You smirk a bit when Delilah realizes what you said.

"They didn't let me win! I-"

"You crushed...the little....kids at...a game? Must be...a sore...loser."

"I did not! I made sure they won a few!"

"I'm sure...you did...'let them'."

Delilah gets annoyed by this, coming up to smack your arm.

"Don't be so rude...!" It's a cute annoyance though, one of a girl being flustered by the bullying.

"I bet...Lisa had...to let...you win...plenty of...times so...you wouldn't...cry." You smirk again as a new wave of exasperation comes over Delilah's face.

"Augh! You're just...you're just so rude! So mean and just so rude! I'll have you know tha-" Delilah stops sentence when you reach out and move the hair out of her face. A deep red blush comes to her cheeks, and while this might have overwhelmed her at the beginning she doesn't seem too skiddish right now. You look over the face staring back at you.

Tanned skin that makes your white fingers pop out more from her forehead. The curve of a cheek that has long since begun to lost the childish chubbiness it might have once held, her face starting to becoming longer. A cute nose that isn't like one you would find on a poster, a slight curve to it giving her face a more unique look that she probably hates. Dark thick brows set atop of big round eyes, her equally dark eyelashes extending out far. Lips that are pale pink, the bottom part filling out to become full. All of these features growing out of adolescence and shaping up to become the woman she will become in a few years.

If you had to guess, Delilah probably hates a lot of her features. You remember Michele being self-conscious at this age, Jessica was similar when she first came, and Aria still worries about how she looks now. And then there's you, of course.

Not that you took proper care of how you looked before, but now that you have something that can't be removed or easily covered up there's a new feeling of self-consciousness. She can tell you that it doesn't scare her or look awful all she wants, but you'll probably carry that stigma for a long time.
Course...you keep trying to call her cute to help ease part of her, yet she still worries about being adequate.

You realize you must have been just staring at her face for a long time know, Delilah's eyes shifting over as your hand remains at her forehead. When she looks back up at you though, her eyes soften for a bit before closing them and her mouth parts the slightest bit to give you a clue on what she's waiting for, her hands clasped at her chest.

Dammit...you can't just leave her hanging but...

But you feel weird about doing it too.

Your hands come up to cup her cheeks instead, soft warm skin against yours. Delilah keeps her eyes closed the entire time, but she's anxious for what you'll give her. You hope she can't see the slight glower to your face as you begin to lean in. Her breath hitches when she feels you moving in closer, and for whatever reason that makes you pause. It's not like she's scared, but...

Delilah's face can hardly hide the letdown she feels when you plant a kiss to her forehead instead.

"Ah...hah...j-jerk..." Her eyes fidget about, not looking at you. "You d-did that on purpose didn't y-you...m-making me think you were g-going to um...k-kiss me..."

It went against what she was expecting, and maybe it's mixed with that feeling of embarrassment but she seems to struggle to handle it.

"I um...I n-need to shower for t-tomorrow...if you'll e-excuse me..." Delilah rushes to the bathroom, looking herself away inside.

You did the right thing, not just kissing her when you feel like it.

And it fucking broke her heart.

[5/7whoops, just...slightly too fucking long. I'm a fuckup, a real fuckup!]
Delilah probably isn't going to be able to handle rejection for a while, not the way she should be able to. It'll take time before she can take things normally again, if ever.

On one hand you don't want to have her deal with that, to feel unwanted and worthless. On the other...what if you forget the line again? Cross it? Go somewhere you shouldn't? Not that you would force anything on Delilah, nor is it like you exactly want to but...

Fuck...how are you supposed to win in these situations?

Maybe you aren't


Delilah comes out some time later, shivering and trying to keep warm. She's trying to hide her red tinted eyes from you, hide away the fact that she was crying inside of there. You doubt she would have taken a shower normally if she didn't need to hide her tears. Without another word she crawls into the blankets, turns off the flashlight, and curls up away from you. Even in the dark her shivers are visible and her sniffling obvious.

You shouldn't...but you feel like a jerk.

All you do was give her a kiss on the forehead instead of the lips though...
With someone like her the little things like that might seem like a big deal though, or it might just be the straw that causes all of the little things that have built up inside to come tumbling out. Whatever the case is, Delilah needs some comforting.

You slide in beneath the blankets to join her, despite that still feeling like too weird of a thing. Delilah curls up against herself more when she feels you shifting behind her, but as you touch her shoulder she doesn't try to shy away.

"I'm sorry...I d-don't know I g-get like this..." She's stuttering mainly for the cold this time, her skin is freezing even through her clothes. You pull her against your chest, towards your own warmth to share, feeling every shiver and twitch of her body.
You don't expect her to be completely okay, anyone thinking a person can just bounce back from that is crazy...emotionless...lack of any sort of empathy. This is a girl who has not only been physically and mentally scarred, but had her sense of trust and self-esteem broken, the million other pieces that follow along with that doing nothing to aid her in the recovery.

You don't say anything, but just holding her seems to be enough to at least reassure her that you aren't angry or any other of the thoughts that must be running through her mind right now.

You make sure to stay awake till she has drifted off before you allow yourself to fall asleep, and you think back to what Jessica had mentioned earlier.

Even with you, Delilah has those whimpers and crying noises while she sleeps.
She can't escape the fear and pain even with you.


You jolt up at the banging at your door. Someone must be knocking at the wrong door again…

You let Delilah go as carefully as you can, but the noise up front if more then enough to wake her. Once again there's that look of fear on her face, and you start to mentally curse whoever the hell it is doing this.

Looking through the peephole, you can see that it's three men standing outside. Straggly and thin, they look like some of the group from the lobby. You're ready to open the door to tell them off when you realize they aren't knocking...

They're trying to force their way in.

Not that they're strong enough to break the lock...not right away anyways. Who knows how long that cheap door will hold?

You try to figure out what you need to do when you hear the mention of reward.


What the hell do you do?

And now I must be off for the day, behave pls <3
git the gun
Hastily wake up Delilah, get her to yell an alarm to everyone else, and prepare to fight using whatever objects are lying around
wait no, john has the gun.
scream as loud as you can to scare them off.
Stay calm and raise our voice enough to be audible, telling them there's nothing good for them in here. At least we'll be in the right if they break down the door, so what happens to them after that is self-inflicted.

Tell Delilah to hide in a closet or cupboard and to be quiet, then move the bags in front of it. Wield her bat if available.
Treat it like a home invasion and invoke castle law
It would not be a good idea to give them time to prepare. They already intruded, no further courtesy is required.
I'm not sure how much you're expecting them to prepare, they clearly think they've got this in the bag or they'd have chosen a better place and time.

If they don't fuck off, our location will be fully compromised and we'll need to get Delilah out of the apartments ASAP.
kill Delilah, the bitch has been nothing but trouble for us ever since we met her
Long term goals for this quest:

-Kill Delilah
-Make Lawrence suicide
-Have John go postal and kill off everyone in the group except Cecilia, who uses her psychic powers to stop him at the last moment, then finally kills himself
-Play as the Cecilia, a nascent esper. Go around dominating others to do things for us, move things around with telekinesis, and just generally wreak havoc because we're a baby with no self control
It's not much but the door should offer you some time to try and prepare, but there is a sinking feeling in your stomach.

This isn't going to turn out well for anyone.

You press your body against the shaking door, forcing back any of the hits against it. Coughing, clearing your throat, and preparing yourself, you offer what little warning you can.

"If you come-" You have to stop, clearing your throat out more. This is your yelling voice, taking up all effort you can exert yet it is only at a normal speaking level. "If...if you come...in there will b-...be nothing good w-....waiting here for you."

Fuck that hurts, but it'll be nothing compared to what will happen to them.

You aren't sure if they were able to hear you properly, but you highly doubt that it would matter either way. They want in and it doesn't seem like there is much else you can do to stop them.


You need to do something with Delilah, if they manage to come in here…You can't let her get hurt, and you can't let her get dragged off. Scanning the room, you spot the closet. A bit of an obvious spot, but there's little else where she can hide.

"Go...now." You point over to the door, grabbing some of the bags.

"But what abou-" Delilah is cut off when you shove her inside the little room, securing the door closed and piling the items in front. They might not be the brightest, but they wouldn't be dumb enough to not check inside.

You'll just have to make sure they don't get the chance.

Bat...that'll be your best weapon for now. You have no idea what they might have at hand, probably something like a knife. That means you need to keep distance between you and them...

You grab the wooden bat from the ground, the solid wood weighing heavily in your hand.

If anything, you can use this to knock a few heads together.

Standing by the door you can see the wood begin to buckle in the center from all the hits. The handle between your grip is held tightly, your knuckles turning white. Any moment now that door is going to give, it's going to bend and break and you'll have to deal with the aftermath.

You want to know how the hell they were able to figure it out when you guys have worked to be careful.

Prepare yourself, prepare for what's going to happen.

They want in, they want to get Delilah, they want to hand her over...hand her over to a man who hurt her.

Wood by the lock begins to splinter away.

That's all it could be.

The center of the door has a large indent now, and the door knob has begun to fall away.

If not her family, who else would want to put up such a reward?

The deadbolt is ripped out of the wall, only the chain keeping the door closed.

A sick man.

The cheap chain strains against the door and the wall, but greed rips it away.

A man fucked in the head.

The door swings open, crashing into the wall.

If you fuck up, then Delilah could be handed right back over to her rapist.

Just as the door has swung, so does your bat. Wood meets with a body unprepared for it's arrival, and the vibrations sent down your arms tells you that the mark has been made. The thin and lanky man who was brave enough to enter the room first crumbles to the ground, his companions standing behind bearing witness to the attack.

Don't fuck this up Lawrence

You don't move forward and keep your stance right where you are. Moving might give them any openings and an initiative to attack.

Right now, you are giving them the option to leave. They can turn and walk away, and that'll be that. If they decide they want to stay then...

Then you'll get a chance to work out some aggression.

"Maaan what tha' fuck?" One of the guys starts to reach into his pocket, something small and concealed. "You wen' n fucked him up man! We jus wanted to talk is all."

You doubt that.

If you had to guess from the slightest twitches in their shoulders and arms, it would be safe to assume they're strung out. You glance down at the man now laying on the floor, spasming as he attempts to recover from the blow to his abdomen. He should be out of commission for a good bit, hopefully you managed to crack some ribs.

Looking back up, you keep your focus on the two still standing. One looks like he wants to run away, while the other is still reaching into his pocket.

"You know how much money she's worth, riiiight?" The guy is talking slowly, but it almost sounds like he's taunting you. "Be easy nuff to split up, more then nuff to go round. We ain't gonna do anythin' nasty to her or nuthin'. We can work this ouuuut."

The man on the ground moves, as if he is trying to stand. Without taking your eyes off the two standing, your boot connects to the downed man's face.

"Fuckin' hell...can't you see he's had enough?"

You don't care.

"Jesus, say somethin'! Ya look like a real freak standin' there like that..."

Doesn't matter.

"Fuckin' monster..."

Remain calm, and they may walk away. Remain calm, and let them come to you. Don't aggravate the situation any more, you already made an example out of one of them. Let yourself go further and-

"Gotta be a reason you keepin' her round. Oh...oh sick man, what are you doin'? Fuckin' her-"

There's that familiar red flash in your eyes, and another downed man at your feet. You aren't certain how many teeth he had before this...

But you do know he's at least two short now.

You had rushed to the hall way, pushing past the other man and landing a hit to the taunting man's face. The knife he had been trying to pull out falls down and across the ground, his jaw hanging limply as he attempts to rise up. The bat brought down to his back prevents that.

As does the next one. And the next one.

With the next one his arms stop moving.

The next brings about a steady flow of blood from his nose, pooling to the ground.

His friend attempts to grab your shoulders, to pull you back and away from the helpless guy. You turn to pin his against the wall, hand at his throat. The bat remains in your other hand, and your grip tightens on both.

You aren't like that.

You aren't taking advantage of her.

You aren't hurting her or forcing her into anything.

You are the one that makes her cry all time time, makes her feel fear-


The sound of your name makes your eyes focus, looking at the face of a man struggling to breathe and fearing for his life as all air is cut off from him.

John stands in the hallway, gun pulled out. When you release the man from the wall he crumbles to his knees, gasping and choking from breath. John looks over the bleeding man, and from the look on his face you can see he's shocked at the damage done.

"Jesus Christ, what happened here...shit, are these the guys from up front?" John walks up, peering into the apartment to see the first man attempting to move. The man you had just been choking struggles to his feet, and John points the gun at him.

"Anyone else we gotta worry about comin' down?"

The man doesn't answer, still trying to collect himself. John wastes no time in shoving him against the wall, barrel at his head and a free hand pinning him by the shoulders.

"I asked you a question."

"Wa-..." The man chokes out, fearing his life. "..and...and two other-"

John tosses him to the ground and turns to you.


"Oh my God..." Mabel has came out into the hallway, looking at the carnage. "What the hell happened?"

"Guessin' they thought it would be easy to kidnap a girl..." John slams his boot down on the back of the man trying to crawl away, pathetic sobs wracking his terrified body.

"Jesus...what the hell do we do? Where's Sam?"

"Sam has his hands tied up right now. You got a knife or somethin' on ya?"

"I can get one-"

"You lock up in the kids room, brace the door up just in case. I don't know if they'll try to come in, but on the chance they do...wake the kids. Make sure they're ready to leave at any moment, just in case. If someone tries to get through the front door then take down the cover from the window and run out in the alley, run to the gas station down the block."

"Got it!" Mabel runs off to arm herself and John turns back to you.


It must not seem like your focusing, and you do your best to show John that you are.

"You need to get the hell out of here, and take her with you. Go to that safe spot y'all mentioned, just stay there for now. I don't think they'll bother with the kids, I think they assumed she would always stay with you. But for now just, just run out. Careful, but if you get somewhere well lit and with enough people around I doubt they'd try anything. Ah shit...you know where the event center is, right? Few blocks down by the Plaza, that's where Sarah's doin' her thing at. Ain't really the best time to go to a party, but we can at least keep in contact and figure out what to do from there, alright?"

You nod to show you understand, your head spinning from what just happened.

"Okay, go! Don't waste time! It's uh...it's like one in the mornin', so stay careful...I'll keep an eye out in here for ya. You just get her ready."

There's blood specks on your hands and sleeves, and you try to wipe them away as you go to the closet.

What do you tell Delilah?
...exactly what happened...?

Less detail, obviously, but "Those druggies from the front tried to break in and take you, I beat them up, we have to go before their friends show up" isn't a bad explanation.

Though bringing her to a piblic event just risks her getting seen even more. And if they know about our relationship with her, seeing us might tip them off.
Announce ourselves before opening the closet, tell her she's safe but we have to get to Mr. Faraway's for the night.

No need to scare her more than she already is, just a bunch of bastards whose brains were fried.
>And if they know about our relationship with her, seeing us might tip them off.
Yo wait hole up, what are you implying.
That the guys looking for her might know that we've been seen together a lot, so if they see us hanging around a young person that person might be her in disguise?
Oooh, good. Was a little iffy because other anons are crazy.
I mean our nigga Lawrence tried to have sex with this broad so I'd say they're in a relationship
You never heard of one-night stands?
are you calling Delilah some kind of pump and dump slut?
Sue's gonna revoke your voting privileges.
Sue loves my posts
Tell her we need to run. Ask her if she has anything in her pack that will help us in a fight (i.e. have Delilah equip knife, pepper spray, and give Michelle's cocaine to Lawrence for an emergency). Equip bat and get the gun from John. Us players are wise to your inventory antics Sue :^)
You try to control your breathing, the dark of the closet only serving to fuel your fear.

Is Lawrence okay? You heard shouting but...god, you're scared. Scared of your wits, you can barely hear over your heart pounding. Jesus...what if Lawrence is hurt? What if they got the best of him? It's so hard to think...your head hurts like crazy.

Wait...those are footsteps coming towards you. What if...what if it's one of those men? You hold the pepper-spray tightly, trying to figure out if you're holding it the right way or not. If...if someone is going to try and grab you then they're going to have to do it through tears.

You hold the spray up, ready to press down on the button as soon as the door opens. You...you won't let them get the jump on you. Whoever is trying to come over here to carry you away will earn a rude welcome and then you'll...you'll help Lawrence. You aren't sure what you can do exactly but...you'll be useful. You'll do this, it'll be fine.

The doorknob begins to twist and you prepare yourself.

Spray and run, it'll be fine...you can handle thi-

"Delilah...it's safe."

You push the door open and throw yourself at Lawrence's arms.

"OhmygodIwassoscared...!" You hug him tightly, the pepper spray still in your hands. "It's...it's good you told me it was you or else I...I was going to spray you-"

Lawrence gives you a quick squeeze back before kneeling to meet your height, looking you in the eyes.

"It's not safe here for me, is it?"

"They wanted...to take...you. We need...leave now. Grab your...knife. Anything...you might...need for...now. Need to...leave in...a minute."

You nod to show you understand and Lawrence goes over to dig through his bag. You realize that your stuff is in front of the closet and you quickly dig through it.

Okay...what all should you take?

Uh...change of clothes might be smart, no you'll just be forced to carry those in your arms...you have your knife, money, pepper-spray...anything else can be brought to you later...

Your hand brushes over the dark black canister, the item from Michele's house.

White crushed up powder lies inside, you remember it so clearly. Looking over you see John in the hallway, and you remember what he said.

Helps take off the edge

Against some perhaps better judgment, you decide to bring the canister with you.

With your pockets full you walk over to Lawrence, nearly jumping when you see the man on the ground. He looks dazed, but if he was the one who burst through the door then Lawrence must have taken care of him quickly.

There's the smell of blood in the air, a strong one. It doesn't seem to be coming from this guy though...

When you look out to the hall, past where John is standing, you find the source of the overpowering smell.

What is laying there used to be a man. He's moving a bit but-

"Time to...go." Lawrence has his hand on your shoulder and you nod. You notice that there is some red stains on his wrist, ones he attempts to cover up with his sleeve. The blood smells...awful. There's still that part in your brain that tells you to go for it, but it smells off...mixed with a copious amount of something most foul. You're head may be pounding, but you're willing to let the chance to feed now slip by.

For now...anyways.

"Law, you headin' out?" John is keeping an eye down the hallway, glancing over only to get an answer.

"Alright, I'll walk ya out."

"John...give me...the gun-"

"Law, listen to me. You carrying this thing around right now will just cause more problems then it's worth. You've shot one of these before, have ya? Not properly anyways. I can't just leave it in the hands of someone who don't know what they're doin', that's asking for more trouble then it's worth. I'll teach you both how to use it tomorrow night, but just...let me hold on to it for now." It feels like John is hiding something, but you can't tell what. He clearly has the gun with him, so it's not like he lost it.

"Not to mention, on the off chance you're caught with this...what do you think will happen? Not only are you a felon, this is gonna be registered in someone else's name. You aren't gonna be useful sittin' in a jail cell."

Lawrence concedes to this, and you notice that John looks rather...dirty. Like he's been running around more then usual. There's also a hole in the arm of his coat, a large piece of gauze sticking out. Did he get hurt recently?

You make the mistake of looking towards the man laying in the pool of blood. Your stomach retches at the sight, but another thought plagues you.

Lawrence did this.

He did this to protect you but...

This is what he's capable of doing.

"-you can just send her inside if you need to." You look up, realizing that John is relaying instructions to Lawrence.

"She'll be fine going inside alone. I don't know who else might be there, but I'll make sure Sarah and Eric attend. I'll wait for you in the alley round back and we can discuss things then. There's no way someone would try to make a move for her in there, not with all the security around. It'll be fine, but for now you guys need to get the hell outta here."

Lawrence takes your hand and leads you away from the carnage and down the hall, John leading the way. You notice that the man that usually sits at the front desk is gone.

"You should be fine walkin' down the street, but I'll stay up front and watch ya to be sure. I need to make sure things here are secure before I leave again though."

John stands beside the doorway, the gun in his back pocket. Lawrence leads you down the streets quickly, the cold air nipping your face and lungs. Steadily enough John and the apartments shrink away behind you, the dark of the night obstructing them sooner. There is a slight fog on the street, and being a few blocks away from consistent street lights frightens you.

Your head is still hurting like crazy though.

You squeeze Lawrence's hand tightly, not wanting to let go. When you finally enter the block that holds the corner store and the rows of lights you feel relieved, but only slightly. Waking up to that was such a fright, you almost went into a panic attack. You knew you had to force yourself to try and stay calm though, just in case you needed to help Lawrence.

Looking down at the hand holding yours, you are reminded of the damage he caused.

Not that you would ever tell him, nor do you feel afraid of him, but...

Lawrence is a dangerous man.


You guys walk in silence for quite a bit, making some progress for the journey. You can see that Lawrence is struggling to breathe properly, and there is a slight shake in his hands.

"You need to stop and rest for a bit."

He shakes his head no and continues to pull you behind him. You dig your heels in the ground, trying to reign him back.

"It'll be safe here, there's like, a church we can rest at."

Lawrence tries to pull you forward again, his strength overpowering your stance. You once again try to do what you can to make him stop, seeing that he's tired, he's in pain, he's...

He's scared.

You're scared too, but it's even more worrying to see him like this. You fear what may happen if he pushes himself too much though, knowing that him collapsing will help no one.

"Lawrence!" You scold him, trying to pull back. A shriek leaves your mouth as you're picked up instead, hoisted over his shoulder and carried down the street.

This is even worse.

"Put me down! I'll walk! I...you just...I just want you to be okay..." You don't struggle, not wanting to hurt Lawrence any further. He's more then happy to set you back down, but you also know that he's going to be dead set on continuing.

You don't say another word, letting Lawrence hold your hand again as you are lead down the street. It's surprisingly close, about an hour or so walk, but that doesn't make you feel any better about Lawrence's condition.


This section of town must be where all the night life happens. Bars and...you aren't too sure what the other places are, but all lit up in bright flashing colors. You notice that just a few more blocks down and you would be on the path of the real seedy parts, like when you went to Dr-...

"We should go through the alleyway." You point in the direction, the memories of your first few nights on the street coming back. "I don't know if he'll like us coming in through the front."

Lawrence pulls you that way again, ignoring any of the any passerby and going behind the building. You stand by as he bangs on the back door, his fist echoing off the metal loudly.

It takes some time but the door opens, revealing one of the girls dressed...'up'.

"Uh...can I help you?"

"I...we need Mr. Faraway, please. Tell him it's-"

"Delilah!" Faraway moves the girl out of the way, instructing her to head back to her customers. "I'm surprised to see you here again, actually. Ah, and you brought your tall friend too. Lawrence, yes?"

"Is it alright that we stay here tonight?"

"I offered it to you, didn't I? Hurry in, out of the cold. I'm afraid we're rather busy tonight, but I can try and find somewhere to set you."

Lawrence pushes on your back and guides you inside. You can hear muffled voices from closed doors, a mix of men and women, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol in the air.

"I know it's not really my business to pry..." Faraway stops to look into one of the rooms. Inside is a couch with a large round table in front, a few men seated inside with three girls sitting between them.

"Going alright in here gentlemen? Good good, please enjoy."

The door is closed and Faraway continues to lead you down the narrow hallway, returning the attention back towards you.

"As I was saying, it seemed like you were doing alright last time. All things considered, do you mind if I asked what's happening?"

You try to contemplate your options...

Should you lie, tell him the partial truth, or tell him everything?
Since he's been made aware by his girls, it should be fine to tell him most. The school being compromised, the theft of our... underwear not once, but twice.

... Bower putting out a reward for us so he can rape us again, which is why we had to do to our hair what we have.
"Stalker...I have a stalker..." You admit, feeling repulsed by the word.

"He's got a reward out on me...a big one. He wants to find me so he can...can hurt me again..." You imagine that Faraway would have been made aware of what happened from the last time you came by. Those girls were so nice to you, but they were rather rough around the edges. If you had to guess...they would have been able to guess what happened to you.

"He's...he's crazy. He forced us out of the school, he's...he's stolen my underwear. T-Twice now..." You feel Lawrence's hand on your shoulder, and while your voice is shaky you don't feel like you will cry.

"There's this poster out with my pictures on it, one of them was...was taken recently...I didn't even realized someone had taken it."

Faraway stops in front of a room, taking out a key to unlock it. There's a frosted glass embedded inside the heavy door, and if you had to guess this used to be an office.

"How terrible..." Faraway mutters, opening up the room and switching on the light. He beckons you inside, a desk pushed to one end and a small leather couch on the other.

"As soon as I heard your voice I knew it was you, but I was a bit surprised to see you sporting dark locks now. Rest assured you look cute, but if you hadn't said anything I would have assumed you were just a fair but rather lost lady that stumbled upon my building by accident. We usually don't receive many female customers, as you can imagine."

You run your hand through your hair, remembering that it had been longer and blonde last time you saw him.

"Y-Yeah...I had to change it again to help stay hidden..."

"Smart move. Course I knew it was you when I saw your friend her-" Faraway looks over at Lawrence, and you can see his eyes widen in shock.

"God lord...they didn't do that to you, did they?"

Oh, his cheek.

"Ah...I uh, apologize for being so crass there. I hadn't noticed in the low light, my eyes are starting to go rather poor. But..."

"No, it's uh...wasn't done by the same man." You answer for Lawrence.

Faraway pulls out his chair, sitting down as he looks over the two of you.

"I take it that life hasn't been too smooth since I last seen you two."

"Not really..." You look back at Lawrence and move him to sit down on the couch, his face tired and his body swaying slightly. He goes down to the leather easy enough, his head resting up against the wall as he lets his body relax.

Faraway is doing his best to not stare too much at Lawrence, and you realize that kind of scene is far off from the norm.

"Shame...doing that to such a nice face." Faraway mutters as he pours himself a glass of. if you're guessing from the type of bottle correctly, brandy. He takes a long sip from it, placing the now half empty glass back down.

"Well, it makes you fit the *mysterious* part of the whole tall, dark, and handsome though. Hope it heals up well enough, it looks mighty painful."

Lawrence doesn't open his eyes, but gives a nod and mouths the words 'it is'.

Faraway looks like he's thinking, probably going over what you've told him.

"A stalker you say...and he's got a reward on you? How troublesome...it's vile. Truly, truly horrid...ah, do you have a name? Perhaps I can ask about for information if you have something I can work off of."

"B-..." You find yourself struggling to speak it.

"...Bower. Doctor James Bower." The words taste vile, as if venom is dripping off of your lips.

It appears that Faraway can taste them all the same, as his face twists up at the mention.

"Are...are you su-...no, of course you are. What a dumb question of me." It's as if you have just delivered the worst news to him, Faraway turning to his brandy to chase away the name.

"Do...do you know him?"

"Not personally. Just...of him." Faraway shudders as the liquid travels down his throat, but you imagine that it's not from the liquor. He begins to pour another glass and continues speaking.

"Back when I was still working up at city hall. I, personally, never had to deal with him, but did I hear rumors. He's ran into his fair share of trouble with the law but, unfortunately, has the means to wriggle his way out of it. Money and a...'well respected' family name can get you pretty far, which is a shame. I never got about to hearing the nitty gritty details of what he did but ah...I'm afraid what I do know allows me to believe your story quite easily."

You feel a bit sick at hearing that.

"Does...does that mean he's like...un-...untouchable?"

"No one is completely untouchable. What it means is that it's a rather ah...uphill battle. There are quite a few people who take advantage of their power and wealth, and far too many more who fall for it. Then again, some people like having their pockets padded with a little extra cash. That or..." Faraway stares as he swirls around the amber color in his glass.


"It's an unfortunate time we live in, but I'm afraid that some of those mugshots you see are merely from those unlucky enough to cross paths with the wrong person, or just simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

You feel yourself grow pale at this. How awful...just...

Lawrence leans forward suddenly, panting a bit as he raises his hand up in an attempt to get attention.

"What's wrong?"

"Need...need..." Lawrence's voice is shakier then usual, matching the motion of his body. Did he get hurt in a way you didn't realize? Oh god what if...what if he's like, bleeding from the inside or something? What are you supposed to do? A...a hospital...you'll-

"Need to...puke. Where is...bathroom." Lawrence's face is pale shade and he looks in pain, but the kind from struggling to not make a mess.

"Oh, ah head outside and down the first hall. Third door on the right-"

Lawrence scrambles to his feet, rushing out with a hand over his mouth. He must have overexerted himself, you know that you've done that playing sports before.

You find yourself sitting alone with Faraway now, Lawrence off to go be sick.

Is there anything you want to talk to him about?
Try injecting a sense of... normalcy into the situation to help calm us down. Move off the topic of a psychopath wanting to pay $50,000 to rape us.

Ask if Sharron's needing of a makeup artist at the theater, because we know this girl but she had to drop out of college because she... likes girls and her parents don't.
Remember that Faraway said he only recognized because of LAW and have a revelation that our disguise is being compromised due to LAW. Talk to Faraway about what to do, then ditch LAW and run away (using Faraway's car) from the city and go find that farm you always wanted to live on and start your writing career. LAW must remain pure and our succubus ways will make him stray from the path of purity
Even though there is still plenty of fear inside, you do feel safe enough in this place. Not that you won't remain on guard, but it would good if you tried and just...keep things normal. Calm. Like...like you aren't on the run from someone willing to put up money to rape you again.

"Ah so...so how is your sister?"

Faraway is ready to pour another glass, but he stops as soon as you ask the question.

"Ah, Sharron? Well enough. They had a special show for New Years, she was busy with that, let me tell you. She was always a bit of a show off though, always was ever since we were kids. Course I always had to try and outdo her too, we always managed to get into plenty of trouble." Faraway is trying to act like everything is okay, but you can tell that he is still bothered by what you have told him. You feel guilty for making his night a little more awful now, but you try not to dwell on it too much.

"She has to like, hire a lot of people, doesn't she?"

"It's a fairly large crew to keep things up and running, yes."

"Ah well...I hope this is okay to ask but...see, I have this friend. She was in college for uh, cosmetology? She does stuff like, make-up and hair or whatever. Uh, anyways, she was in college, but she had to drop out cause of money problems and her family kinda kicked her out cause she uh...likes girls."

"Oh, I wish I had that problem."


"But I was kinda hoping, er...wondering...do you think Sharron might be able to hire her?" You watch as Faraway thinks about it, looking down at his nearly empty glass.

"Well, I don't know right of the back, but I can certainly ask her. You said she was a makeup artist, yes?"

"Um...if that means she does face stuff really well then yeah. I guess she's an artist."

"I'll be sure to relay the information to Sharron then. I'll let her know how important it is to you too, alright?"

"Yeah, thank you so much."

"It's not a problem dear." Faraway only pours himself a half a glass this time, and you look down at your hands. You can feel the knife and the pepper spray moving about in your pocket, the usual...the canister is the lightest thing you are carrying...

Yet it weighs so heavily in your pocket.

"Ah...w-...where do you think we'll sleep? I mean, anywhere is fine, I'm sorry if that sounded rude-"

"Not at all. Let's see...you slept in the dressing room last time, but with Lawrence with you it might be difficult to fit you both in there. There's not much room in here, and I'll be coming and going constantly...oh! I know where. Here, come with me, I almost forgot he was here." Faraway stands and motions for you to follow.

Is he talking about a man? You...doubt he would make you go into a room with another man but...

Down the narrow hallways once again, laughter and talking coming up from behind the walls. A woman passes by, greeting you both as she walks past with a bottle in her hands. She's wearing a dress, black and shimmery, but you aren't really sure she could walk out in the street in that. If she were to sneeze then the whole thing would just...poof

You are reminded that this used to be a shelter in the past, but it feels more like a home with several rooms. The wooden floorboards creak with every movement, loud and echoing down the way. This is an old place, much much older then you are. You would guess that this would have been built when your grandmother was still young.

Faraway stops at a door, tucked away near the back of the building. A large ring of keys is pulled from his pocket once again and he searches for the right one. Wait...what if there's a man in there? What if...what if Faraway leaves you with him? Please no...you can't...can't be here with out La-

The door is swung open, the lights inside off. The room is illuminated just enough to show some folded up cots pushed up against the wall, a few other boxes stacked up on the other side. One of the cots is pulled out, a blanket thrown over the top. There's the soft rising and falling underneath it, and from the tuff of red hair sticking out of the top you realize it's someone sleeping. Someone small, younger then you.

Thank God.

"This is, ah...Christian. Son of one of my girls here. She doesn't work every night, but when she does she usually has to bring him in. He's fairly young so he usually goes to sleep right away. Just let him know that you're in here and it'll be fine, he's a good boy."

"Alri-...wait, what about Lawrence? He can sleep in here too, right?"

"Should be fine. I doubt tall and handsome would fit very well in one of these beds though. They were left over from when this was a shelter, but I keep them here in case any of the girls needs to use them. There's a couple blankets in that open box though, use as many as you need. The building might be old, but it's insulated enough so it shouldn't be too chilly. Ah and..."

You look up at Faraway, his face soft but serious.

"I know there are a lot of men here, and while some of them can be a bit...grabby, you shouldn't have to worry about too much else. If you need to go to the restroom or anything like that and one of them will just not leave you alone then don't be afraid to yell for help. Scream or whatever, and the girls will be quick to come to your aid. They won't let anything bad happen to you, and rest assure if I get there first then the man won't know what hit him."


"I'm not expecting you to feel comfortable here. I am just trying to make sure you feel safe though. Then again, I'd feel rather safe if I had a big strong man like that to wrap his arms aro-...speaking of which, he still hasn't returned yet. Are you sure he's fine?"

You snap yourself out of trying to process his words and focus back on his question.

"Oh uh, I think so. It's just...been tough. He's been putting himself through a lot just to help me out...he keeps getting hurt a lot..."

"Men like him are rather headstrong. You can nag and complain to them all you want about how they need to be careful, but they never want to listen till they come limping back up to you. They'll promise to be careful but that's never the case, especially if the reason they're getting hurt is for some nice lady."

You fidget and look away at this last part.

"I suppose it would be wise to go check up on your friend though, make sure everything is on the up and up. Ah, here. I have a spare in the office but go ahead and hold on to this..." Faraway removes a key and hands it over to you. "It'll give you access to this room. I tend to keep the rooms locked to help prevent stowaways."

You nod and pocket the key, patting it where it lays in your jeans. The two of you leave the sleeping boy back in the room, locking the door behind.

"Here, we'll just go take a peek on how he's doing." Faraway leads you down the hall, passing by several mixing smells of cigars and alcohol. "If he's still hugging the toilet then I'll let him know where he can find the room-...ah."

As he's about to turn the corner Faraway comes to a sudden stop, looking at the scene in front of him, hand coming to his mouth. You peek around him, trying to figure out what it could possibly be...

It feels like your heart has shattered, the million pieces crashing at the ground.

A bottle is set on the ground, glitters and shimmers caught in the low light offered, a body pressed up against another. Manicured hands holding a square jaw, lipstick lips mashed up against cigarette flavored ones, a man's back against the wall as she leans in for her kiss.

You feel a shake run through your body as you watch this woman kiss Lawrence, standing on tiptoes to reach his mouth, his hands held out and away from her scantily clad body.

"Lacey!" Faraway isn't shouting, but rather scolding. The woman pulls away, surprised but otherwise none too concerned. "Aren't you supposed to be with customers?"

Lawrence looks over, and when his eyes come to fall on you he looks...shocked? Scared?

"What? Isn't he a cus-"

"Y-...You stupid jerk...!" You turn quick on your heel and rush back down the halls, trying to find the room. When you're certain you found the right one you rip the key out of your pocket, trying to fit in into the lock. Your hands are shaking and your eyes are blurry, but you manage to get inside after a few tries.

You didn't mean to, but the door slams heavily behind you, your eyes burning and head hurting like crazy. You...feel awful...just...absolutely-

"Who's there?"

It's a young voice, and you remember the boy who was already sleeping in here.

"Oh um...s-sorry. I didn't mean to wake you-"

"Are you nice?" He's sitting up in bed now, a blue fluffy animal hugged in his arms. A bandana is wrapped around his neck, and it appears as if a kitchen pot is laying on the ground next to him, a wooden sword laying next to it.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm nice."

"That's good. I'm an adventure...but I need to sleep up so I can go exploring tomorrow." He lays back down, yawning and curling up.

You wipe your face, looking over at one of the folded up cots. It rolls out easily enough, but you're having trouble getting it to lay flat.

"Um...do you know how to open this?" You ask the boy, feeling bad for disturbing him further.

"Takes...two people." He doesn't bother to sit up to answer the question, and you look at the metal bed in front of you.

Why...is everything so wrong right now...

This is all just so...

So fucking annoying.

You feel like you may cry again, mad about not being able to get the bed open, mad that you had to run out here in the middle of the night in the freezing cold, mad at what you saw in the hallway.

There's a knock at the door, and trying to wipe your face clear you go over to open it. As you expected Lawrence is standing outside, concern on his face. You don't say a word to him as you walk back to the cot, determined to get it open and leaving him to lock the door himself. Your fingers struggle against the metal, against the springs, trying to use all the strength that you just don't have to get this to open. To get this to work...to get any of this work.

It snaps closed on you again, only managing to open it up a few inches. You can hear Lawrence walking over, and as expected he takes control of the situation, laying the cot out open.

"Thank you..." You mutter, going to the open box to pull out blankets. Lawrence is just standing there and you avoid looking at him, kicking off your shoes and crawling inside the duty and newly opened bed.

"Good night." This is bed is so uncomfortable.

Your back it turned to face him, though you can hear as he walks across the floor, as he sets up a spot for him to lay down on. Your eyes still burn from the tears as you lay there, trying to sleep. Lawrence speaks up, his voice meek and lower then usual.

"Do you...want to...talk about...it?"
this bitch has taken countless dicks, excluding the law man, and she gets mad that he kisses another girl? what a fucking hypocrite slut
Yes, but try keeping a lid on our emotions so we don't wake up the boy.

Why would he do that? Just... betray our trust? Is it because we couldn't have sex with him? Initially misinterpret the scene as Lawrence being the instigator, but realize it seemed like he was... trying to get away from it?



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