Say you love me..?

[corbett]

Corbett
roads in front of me,
taking me astray..
are you leaving me?

[/font]
Rain gently fell from the slate-hued heavens, and the calming sound of water slowly falling to earth filled the air. A cool breeze enticed the damp leaves into a hushed rustle, and caused wet branches to creak emptily back and forth. Above, in the sky, a lone raven flapped its charcoal colored wings, a solemn cry echoed from it, resounding through the chillingly quiet air. The loudest sound by far, but there was another noise that was splitting the rain-muted air. It was not a sound created by horses, most having been left in their stalls for the day, but a soft sound, a little shaky, but all the same it was there.
What was this soothing sound, that tenderly, and timidly broke the silence? A voice..just a voice, but it was singing, and the words came forth, a little hesitantly from the girl's pale lips, but they were pure and soft..
"Every night she cries, and dies a little more each time....Say you love me....Nothing left inside....Say you love me...."
The girl's pale face was a beautiful canvas for her vast blue eyes, dark elaborate make-up done up around them enhanced their deer-like quality. Raven colored hair framed her oval like face, making her appear even paler then she already was. The small girl, only five foot three, was dressed in a simple plaid hoodie that fit her slender frame perfectly, a pair of old ripped blue-jeans, and mud covered high tops on her feet. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of the hoodie as she strolled on. Her pace was slow and distracted as if she was thinking as she sang...
Large eyes drank in the scene of the forest, and she realized something was missing, she stopped singing for a moment, only to say one word...
"Hathor..."
On cue, a beat up, sun-colored dog hopped out of the forest onto the trail. He appeared to be smiling as he raced towards his owner. Long, skinny tail wagging bag and forth, into a blur, as the dog slowed down to a stop to butt his head against the girl's legs. Then, Hathor turned his face to look expectantly up at the girl. A soft smile spread across her lips, and she bent down and rubbed the three-legged dog's head.
Standing back up, the girl waved her arm out infront of her and the dog took off again racing out infront of the girl, before doubling back to match the girl's slow pace.
"And every night she cries....I don't know if I'll ever make this right, 'Cause I am just so broken by the bitterness of loneliness...I'm so scared of this..."

Feel like I'm tryin' to breathe under water
Tryin' to climb but I keep fallin farther

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[Glenneth Damien Sparrow]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400px,true][atrb=bgcolor,8f8f8f,true] He didn't particularly like the rain. He wouldn't go so far as to say he openly disliked it, for it wasn't truly the drops of falling water that he commonly found himself displeased with. It was, instead, the thunder and lightning that occasionally followed along with it. Today, it wasn't so bad, he figured. A light drizzle, but nothing more. Just enough to reveal the world as the dreary place it truly was. There was no storming, nothing that could bring down a plane. Nothing like that night he should have died. He sighed heavily, finally ducking in underneath a small shelter. He popped up to sit on the top of the picnic table there, hair flattened against his skull rather fully. He brushed it aside, his long bangs having fallen into his eyes, and he glanced up, looking around the place he had, a few days ago, come to call "his next home". Home didn't hold quite the same meaning to you once you'd been bumped through at least twenty foster homes in four years. Home became a house, or an apartment, or just a room that kept you dry. If you were lucky, it kept you warm and fed too. If not, well, you learned to manage and figure it out on your own. You grew up too fast, too soon. But, then again, he probably already had. He'd been given the time and space to be a kid with the Walkers, the only people he considered family beyond his biological parents, but he'd not really taken it, even at six years old. He'd experienced too much with his father for him to ever equal their innocent, unmarred little darling, their Katie. His Katie, too. She was his sister. They may not have been related by blood, but they'd bonded just as tightly, if not more so, because of it. With those thoughts in mind, he slung his backpack off his shoulder, practically ripping the zipper off the decrepit thing. It had been patched over with duct tape so many time that was practically all it was, but it still had the zipper and the straps. He slipped out a small pack, something in much better condition. It hardly had even a scuff mark on it. He opened it to reveal the cover of a sketchbook and a set of drawing pencils. Picking out the charcoal, preferring that for the dreary days like today for no particular reason, he flipped through the sketches too fast to make them out. Some were so unfinished they still appeared almost nonexistent in their faintness. Others were half shaded, but not fully. Most were somewhere in between, and completely finished ones were rare. He finally hit a blank page and paused, kicking his sopping wet sneakers off and bringing his feet up to sit cross-legged. It wasn't like he wasn't already wet from walking through puddles rather than around them. He peered up from his spot, glancing around for something to draw. A distraction, really, one that didn't require walking into the dining hall and playing poker with potato chips, or sitting on bunk beds and gossiping about who did what at what point in their life. It was certainly better than the barn, where the memories would echo far to strongly for him to stop the flow of tears that still threatened to spill over half the time. It may have been four years, but you don't ever forget a plane crash that takes everything you love from you. He could attest to that. He sure as hell hadn't gotten over it. It was then his eyes lighted on what, to him, was a beautiful scene, a transaction between a girl and her dog. A friendly familiarity, a silent understanding, perhaps needing. Instantly, his hand was flying across the page in arcs and lines and pausing now and then to scuffle up and down or side to side. There was frantic rubbing to get the edges softer, or to completely blur a stray line so that it was nothing more than a smudge on the page that could be fixed with shading. The initial shapes were rough, but quickly formed. It was as he got to the details he looked up again, practically staring at her and drawing without really looking down. He'd never quite understood why that could be considered rude. He didn't really care to. Anyway, she'd let him know if she minded. Right?

[corbett]

Corbett
A reflection of a lie will keep me waiting
With love gone for so long
And this day's ending
Is the proof of time killing all the faith I know

[/font]

Corbett slowed her ambling walk to a complete stop, as Hathor piped up from his normal muteness with a chuffing little bark. The dog's ragged ears were perked up high on his two-toned skull, chocolate hued eyes ripping back and forth, as a strange smell wafted into his ebony nostrils...human..male..where?..where?..there!!!
The three-legged dog turned to face in the direction in which the boy sat. Hathor tilted his head, his tongue falling out of his mouth before it was drawn back in and his facial features redid themselves into a menacing look. A growl echoed deep in his throat. The dog having made the connection that males typically hurt his beloved owner.
The girl looked around, a cautious look dawning in her eyes..
"Hathor, baby, what's wrong.."
The hushed voice questioned the dog expectantly, as if he would reply. Doe-like eyes shifted to look in the direction of the canine's growls, only to land upon a lone figure that, of course, had been unknown to her before this moment.
Corbett's breath caught in her throat, and her chest began to hurt as her brain made the connection that it was a boy...Was he staring at her, did he know she was her? A look up from whatever was in his hand answered the mental questions..
The girl shifted herself backwards a little, two steps backwards to be precise, the damp leaves underfoot made a strange sound as she moved. Corbett reached up and pulled her hood a little lower over her face, and peaked cautsiously out from under it. It came to her mind that perhaps, instead of standing in the open she should just simply vanish into the trees...it'd be smarter then standing there.
For a moment her vision blurred, as her mind slipped into the past, but she ripped herself out of it...
Put on your whore act, do what you were trained to do...Corbett commanded herself..
"Hathor, shh, go play my lovely little boy, Mama will be ok..Go on now.."
The dog seemed to have a sorrowful look in its dark eyes as it turned, broom like tail low, and gloomily wandered away. Corbett took a deep breath, mentally telling herself to just do the only thing she was good at..the only reason Blaze kept her around, it wasn't her looks, no she was ugly, pathetic, weak, stupid..he kept her, because she fulfilled his needs as a play thing..and many others, making him quite a bit of money..
A bit timidly, she strode over to the boy, large blue-green eyes locked on the ground, but a playful smile lit her lips...
The girl's voice now sexy and dangerous slipped from those devilish pink lips..
"Wanna have some fun..."
perfect little whore, stupid little slut...She played the part perfectly, sexy smile on her lips, one hand twirled a strand of the charcoal colored hair that framed her soft face, deer-like eyes full of innocence with a glint of mischevious hidden somewhere below...oh, on the outside she was Daddy's little pet...on the inside...
On the inside, her thoughts were screaming..God, let him say no...oh god...please...if he has to do anything, just let him slap me..please...

And I've lost who I am,
and I can't understand
Why my heart is so broken

[/font]

[Glenneth Damien Sparrow]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400px,true][atrb=bgcolor,8f8f8f,true] When she looked over, he spotted the moment of hesitation and for a half a second, his charcoal pencil stopped moving entirely. Then, to his dismay, she began coming this way. His eyes fell and locked on to the drawing, slipping in more and more detail from memory, falling into the pattern of drawing, of focusing, of ignoring the human world around him. He didn't want the contact, the talking, the small gestures. Like any human, he naturally craved them of course, but stronger was the instant retaliation. The stopping action that kept him withdrawn and pulling away. The people who got close to him only ever got hurt. His fault, every time. Not again, never again, he hoped. He begged, pleaded, even, silently in his head. Her words slipped out and he knew they were fake. It wasn't that they sounded fake, not really, but he was good at noticing these things, at recognizing shifts in mood, personality, mannerisms. He always watched, on the fringes, never taking part but seeing it all. Not to mention, the proof she'd forced the change in some way was already proven on paper. In the soft eyes, vaguely sad. In the slight twinkle despite that as her gaze rested on her canine companion. He recorded everything, always. He would never forget. He wouldn't let her get away with it either. But still, the words she chose, they startled him and he reacted before he could think about it, flinching and jerking his head up, wet bangs falling in his face, letting him see through only his left eye, the uncovered one. You don't have to pretend, you know. The words slipped out before he could stop them, gentle words he hoped would calm her, would kill the fear he had little doubt she still felt despite her mask. He hoped even harder that it would stop this act. He'd rather the fear than the seduction. The seduction was sick, twisted. The fear, at least, was real. His eyes cast down to the paper again, finger smudging the charcoal just a bit, the single finished piece of the drawing standing out clear. Her face. He glanced up again, wary and nervous, a distance kept in his eyes despite the caring tone to his voice. Keep everyone at arms length, that way no one gets hurt, especially them. That was his philosophy, anyway. It had worked so far. Since the plane crash, no one had hurt or died. No one but him. But that was alright. It was better him than anyone else. He glanced back down, working on shading in the rest of her in the picture, his next words just a mumble. There's nothing wrong with being afraid.

[corbett]

Corbett
am damaged at best, like you've already figured out
I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating

[/font]
As he started to speak, a hand subconciously went to her pale face, and large eyes flicked away from him to rest upon the ground. Yet, there was no searing-pain across her face, no one grabbed her wrist to pull her into another unwanted act. No...His words they....they,..startled her, truthfully startled is an understatement. He knew she was a liar, a fake, a deciever, he knew.. Well, actually, a lot of people knew, but they did not care they saw the chance for sex, for power, for control, and they took it like vultures to flesh. There's nothing wrong with being afraid...No, there was not...but..but...she did not like people knowing how terrified she was of them, it was better to play their sick games then let them take her fear and contort and play with it til it became something bigger...til the fear turned into submission, and she became theirs...It was better just to play the sick game once, and then have them go off on their merry way, then to have another Blaze..
She did not know what to say, much less, how to act now..Azule splashed eyes, brimming with tears, slowly danced up from being locked upon the earth...only to rest upon his reluctant face.. Words tumbled from her, before her brain really made the connection of what she was doing..
"What do you want from me..."
It was a whisper, a begging, pleading, needing, whisper, but still a whisper.
The forest which had seemed peaceful before, now gave off the impression of a twisted and demented place to her mind...The trees melted together to form four concrete walls. The wet leaves underneath hardened into a chilled basement floor, the kind of chill that seeps into your bones if you sit on it...The boy infront of her, twisted and churned, until he too became something he was not...The stranger became a well known person in Corb's life..Blaze..The sick twisted smile danced over his dark lips, the strong hands held onto her. Blaze's vile voice slithered into her ear, You've made Daddy very angry...you know what you're punishment is, dontcha, worhtless whore...
A blink, and everything was the way it was supposed to be. Leaves rustled a quiet melody, the wind chimed along, and the unknown figure sat infront of her..still messing at whatever it was in his hand..
"please...tell me..please"
A lone tear finally found its glittering way down her face from Corb's left eye.. What had happened? What had happened to that happy little firey girl..she'd died..Just lived to please everyone else now..Silly little girl, thought the world could be her's when in reality she is the world's. This place, this escape, it was temporary..come a month or two, he would lose it...and come and get her, despite Nick's protests..and Corb would be playing little miss daddy's pet, again..

I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead

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ooc..
I'm sorry these are not exactly brilliant posts coming from me, I'm a bit rusty...I truly hope that my replies will get better as we go.

[Glenneth Damien Sparrow]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400px,true][atrb=bgcolor,8f8f8f,true] He hadn't caught the reaction his words had earned, not right away. He was too focused on avoidance, on the picture in his hands, the charcoal smudges and smears that somehow formed into something beautifully accurate and revealing. He'd nearly jumped again when she spoke, when she didn't just turn and leave. But the tone, the tone made his heart clench. So hauntingly familiar, that tone, back with his father. Just trying to make the man see he wasn't at fault, he couldn't help that his mother had died. The time before he had accepted that fate, that blame. Please daddy, the words hurt. The words had spilled from his mouth more times than once, but those days were long gone. A bit inaccurate in their choice and phrasing, but he'd been young. Still, his memory of them was vivid. Finally, deep brown eyes rose up to meet hers, mouth open slightly in the slightest shape of an 'o'. He instantly felt the weight of blame, seeping into his being as it often did. He'd done this, forced her from a comfortable act to this uncertain, confused mess. Yet another reminder why he should stay away. But he couldn't, not now. He had to fix this, or at least try. A protectiveness burned in his heart, a want to help her, to keep her safe from the world. She was so very broken, after all. She needed it. Clearly she'd forgotten how to fight for herself. He nearly slipped off the table and stood, nearly embraced her and whispered that it was okay like he would have done with little, tiny Katie. But he didn't. He could figure out quickly enough that might be what Katie would have needed, but not necessarily this girl. He couldn't assume everyone was the same. Nothing. I was just... drawing. And you looked so sad, it just fit the weather. It's... it's not done, but I guess you can have it, if you want. He murmured softly, feeling the stab at his heart as he offered to give up the memory. It was just a drawing, he knew, but to him it was as good as a thought in his own head. A gap he might never get back, just like he had almost lost the memories of the Walkers, of his father. Of everything good in his life, replaced with the only thing he'd had left. The fear of falling as the plane careened to the ground and lit up into a burning wreck. He could still imagine the heat, the searing pain as it burn his skin, the scream that resulted and the terrible smell in the air as it did. But it was better to get this over with, to just rid himself of this picture before he could no longer give it up. The charcoal found its spot in the case again and his hands, smudged black and leaving fingerprints on the page, pulled and ripped the page out, leaving the jagged edge along the top and little bits left behind in his book. He held it out to her, a peace offering of sorts, he supposed. He nearly asked her to please stop crying, he hated to see others cry, but he guessed it would seem just like a command to her. It would probably just make it worse. So he said nothing instead, holding the words inside. --- It's fine <3 ---

[corbett]

Corbett
My best defense, running from you (Cost me everything)
I can't resist, take all you want from me
Breaking slowly

[/font]
Uncried tears swam in the vastness of her eyes. They clouded her vision creating a fogged window effect to all that she saw. Then there was something clear, something there, something that the tears could not blur and make unpure.. Warm brown eyes held onto her's.. They were filled with mixed emotions, but a caring look overpowered most of the other emotions in those eyes...
Shock ran like a fox from fire through her weary body. What was this? Was he truly nice, or was he just another actor? He was not Nick, so he could not truly give a damn about her. Could he? No, he could not. That did not matter though, her soul purepose, that had been pounded in Corbett's mind, was to please others. She, herself, did not matter. Her emotions, her body, her actions, they were all to please someone else.. Normally.. At the moment, she was at a loss as to how to act to please him... So the real Corb had emerged, and that was something that did not happen on a daily basis.. Clearly, just repetive, rambling, story telling be spun here...
His voice flooded her ears..Drawing?.. For the first time crestfallen eyes looked upon what had been in his hands.. The paper crunched and tore as he yanked it out of the sketchpad. At the moment, all Corb saw was the hand coming towards her, her face tightened and eyes shut tight, but nothing touched her..Nothing hurt.. Gradually, dejected eyes opened. A timid, shaking, hand reached out and took the paper from him....
It was her, it looked so much like her, there was no denying it..Then there was Hathor, his little grin like face...Wonder momentarily breathed its life into her soft eyes. Moments passed, and she still looked upon the paper, but then they moved to look upon his face again..searching..
Slowly, she held the drawing back out to him..
A small voice came from her..
"k-Keep it..You look sadder without it.."
Lyrics trailed away momentarily, until even quieter than before
"How com-"
The sentence was cut short by the vicious sound of her phone, as it cut through the once hushed air. The ringtone chimed the lyrics, 'I didn't want to hurt you, but you're pretty when you cry..I didn't want to fuck you, but you're pretty when you're mine.'
Frantically, knowing the ringtone by heart, she tore the cell phone from her pocket...Yet, she froze as her eyes held the glare of screen..Sorrow changed to agonizing fear, and a battle raged within..answer the phone and risk going home, or not answer the phone and risk going home, just a little later....

I know it's already over, already over now

[Glenneth Damien Sparrow]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400px,true][atrb=bgcolor,8f8f8f,true] As her eyes lit up a moment, something so different from before but it fit. It was true, not a lie. It was then he knew he'd made the right choice. He had many memories, many good ones. She had few, it seemed. She needed at least one. Everyone needed something to keep them holding on, to keep them hoping. He had the desperate idea that someday, somehow, he'd meet a family like the Walkers, a family who would take him in and love him despite his scars. The years of joy with them, and even the years of twisted love with his father, those kept him fighting. He knew it wasn't impossible. But did she? He somehow doubted it. Stubbornly insistent, he pushed the hand with the drawing back towards her and shook his head. But you look happier with it. He almost didn't hear the two cut off words, they were so quiet, but he did. He would have asked what she meant to ask, but then there was a loud sound. Well, loud in comparison. A song, a ring tone. She pulled her phone out and he saw the fear, far worse than when he'd gone to hand the drawing over. Slowly, ever so cautiously, he reached his hand over, covering the phone's screen for a half a moment before he pressed "ignore". She was less fearful without it ringing, and fear was never a good feeling. He unfolded his legs from their crossed position, slipping them back into his shoes as he slipped off the table, packing his drawing things away. I hear you can block phone numbers on those things. If that'd help any.