carrotgurl

Hope. The prospect of something good. They weren’t giving me too much of that anymore. I’m not sure how that made me feel. I hadn’t woken up since it’d happened, so I guess it hadn’t really sunken in yet. I wouldn’t say I was old, and I wouldn’t say I was that much of a bad person either. I mean, nobody’s perfect, but I don’t think that I deserved getting dealt such a shit hand. A bad day, fine. Dead pet, never mind. A mishap in the operating room? When this was meant to be a minor procedure? Something that you can’t recover from? Who can you say honestly deserves that? I never t

It didn't take him long to figure out he was in the boot of a car. Stipes was used to it. Part of the metaphorical job description. It didn't worry him at all that he had no idea where he was being taken; this was also, often the case in his line of work. What was stressing him out was that he had a bit of a blank in his recent memory. That was new…and it didn't spell anything good. He ran through what he did know in his mind.                                                  He had been on the plane.                                        He remembered getting off of the plane.                                               He

Blood can be graceful sometimes. Like when it's floating through water. Like it was doing now in front of Peter's face. It snaked its way through the cold water like smoke, and drifted towards the surface. Peter watched it and stared where it stopped, at the reflection of someone in the water with him. It took him a moment to remember that he was looking at himself. If he hadn't been under the water, he'd have started laughing at his situation. He didn't even know who he was anymore… He'd had so many hosts he didn't even know where he was now, who he was, what he was doing. He started to remind himself.         Stephen was dead.   

"They pulled out all of his teeth." Said Quinton quietly to himself, looking closely at the limp head. "…While he was still alive." The sense of awe in Quinton's voice was starting to annoy Evans, who was still finding it difficult to breathe slightly. "They must've been here for hours," Quinton said standing up straight. "They really worked him over." He looked over to Evans on hearing a pained heavy sigh. "What?" "We should've been here earlier. We should've been here to stop this happening in the first place." Quinton turned to face Evans properly; he was cocking his head listening to him, watching him still hold his side in pain.

Evans bolted up the stairs two at a time. He pushed the already open door to the flat. The lock was damaged. There were faint smears of blood in the corridor by the door.      This spelled trouble. He went past the kitchen first.      Mess.      More blood. He pushed the door to the living room open slowly. There was a disfigured body tied to a wooden chair.      Total mutilation. And at it's feet, a man, Peter, on his knees.           Rocking. Evans needn't have asked who it used to be in the chair.      They were too late. The last time this had happened had been over 150 years ago, and that was because there were too many

There was something wrong about the contents of the fridge. Robert didn't pride himself on noticing little details, but he couldn't stand the thought that someone had been through his things. He distinctly remembered the cheese being label down, and the milk not being as full as that. He rubbed his eyes. Maybe his age was just catching up with him. It was probably nothing. He went into the bedroom. He just needed sleep. It had been a long day. All these employees having to face divorces and problems on topside caused long shifts for those that were able to balance Meta and topside. He hated this time of year. He hung up his white coa

"That's it." Stevens told himself as he walked through his office door. It closed heavily behind him. "That's it." He repeated, stopping in the middle of the room. He stared ahead emptily. His desk sat in a complete mess of unfinished and half read reports. There were piles of all sorts of forms, and the legal documents his work entailed. Oh the joy of being a level 7. He turned to his left and rummaged around in the fridge, eventually pulling out a parcel. He untied the string and put the wrapping back in the fridge. The cool metal soothed his hand. "You've never looked so friendly." He said quietly. He pulled back the slide and took

The only sound filling the stale air was of Liam's hard breathing. He pushed himself up against the wall of the corridor, attempting to get up, but the piercing pain pinned him back down again. Through the sound of a racing pulse in his ears he heard inevitable footsteps approach him. He opened his eyes from his foetal position on the floor, and stared at his reflection in the shoes facing him. He turned onto his back slowly to see the face of the man. "How did you find me?" "Do you really need to ask?" Liam tried to get up, and managed to lean against the wall, but clenched his eyes in pain. "Is that really necessary?" "Where is s