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01/08/2022 08:50 PM
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the introduction.
It started with a photograph.
Blue eyes pierced through the image as a burning fire of betrayal ripped through her core. She shouldn’t have expected much from Walter - the man was a liar, a cheat, and a goddamn piece of sh*t. But having a whole other kid and not even telling Lennon was low, even for him. It was the only logical response she could think of; no sane woman would allow their child near Walter unless he were their father, and the baby in the photo sat with him happily - as if she had no idea of what kind of monster that man really was.
Jealousy and anger rushed through her veins for reasons unknown to her. Jealous that this girl had a chance, that she got to live a life without Walter Grey. Anger that she had no idea who this girl was, or if she was even alive anymore. The thought alone made her stomach turn. As hurt as she was, Lennon’s one hope was that Ophelia lived a better life than she did.
It had been weeks since she found the photo.
She kept it a secret for the most part, unsure how to really approach the situation. On one hand, she was grateful to know there was some sliver of a chance that she had a family out there - one that wasn’t made up of her, her husband and her kids. On the other hand, a heavy feeling of nervousness sat in her stomach every time she had thought of Ophelia. There was a possibility that this girl wanted nothing to do with Lennon, and she knew that. She wouldn’t have blamed her, really, but the idea of her sister knowing she existed this entire time really sat uneasily with her.
A sigh escapes her lips as her fingers press into the keyboard, searching for any sort of information on Ophelia Grey the internet had to offer. Nothing of importance caught her eye, until the name pieced together with images she’d seen online. Art - mostly paintings. An upcoming gallery in Savannah, Georgia.
It was her only chance.
Before she had known what she was doing, a flight to the foreign state had been purchased, and a hotel had been booked.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------
The gallery was everything Lennon expected it to be.
A dimly lit room with people piled in the building, their eyes examining each painting as they stopped and stared. She joined them after her nerves calmed, taking note of how talented Ophelia had been. Something she must have gotten from her mother rather than the father they shared. It made her smile.
She had caught sight of who she could only assume was her sister, and suddenly a hole sat in her chest, heavy and aching. She was stupid to have come here, but she just needed to know if she were real… and based on the laughter that carried through the building and the smile on the woman’s face, she very much was.
Maybe this wasn’t the brightest idea, to come unannounced to her gallery, and spill the truth of their relationship. But it was the only opportunity Lennon had, and before she could stop herself, her feet carried her to where the woman stood, heart beating out of her chest.
She felt herself staring, and when Ophelia’s head turned, Lennon’s fell, attempting to hide herself for a moment. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just - your work is very beautiful.” She was improvising. “I really like what you did with this one,” she says, pointing to the painting in front of her, though she didn’t even examine it like she had the others. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to stare. I think you’re a great artist, and uhm…” Her weight fidgets from one leg to the other, a sigh as she extends her hand. “I’m Lennon, it’s nice to meet you.”
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12/21/2021 11:03 PM
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( cs ): Lennon x Lilah & Apollo
( character study ): Lennon x Lilah & Apollo
Small giggles fill the room as gingerbread men line a cookie sheet on the counter, Lilah's small hands pushing the cookie cutters into the dough spread out before her. Lennon watches with a smile, helping Apollo with his own as he sits in his high chair. "Mommy! Look at this one!" Lilah says, pulling a star out of the dough, her belly laughs surrounding the room as the cookie dough falls to the wax paper with a small thud.
"Good job, baby!" The brunette says, the excitement on her daughter's face warming her heart. She spent years hating the holidays - Christmas, especially. She had no reason to enjoy it, given the relationship she had with her parents . . . There were never any presents under the tree, nor was there a big fancy meal like most familes shared. Walter and Cecelia barely made an effort to put up a tree.
It wasn't until she had kids of her own that she really got it - that she really understood what Christmas was about.
It wasn't about the gifts, or the money spent. It was about the memories made with the ones she loved most - spending hours making cookies with her children while their dad wrapped presents in the other room. It was taking walks down the city blocks looking for porches decked out in lights, or taking the kids to Rockafeller Center to go ice skating and to see the tree. It was watching her dog frolick in the snow on a cold winter's day. Christmas meant more to her now as an adult than it ever did as a kid, because the smiles on Lilah and Apollo's faces was the greatest gift of all.
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12/17/2021 04:27 PM
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journal entry 003.
written shortly after lennon's miscarriage. she finds comfort in writing out her feelings, since being vulnerable is something she struggles with; just a little insight on how she's feeling after finding out the baby didn't make it.
i feel lost.
it's like i'm drowning in the unknown, and the emptiness has crept it's way through the cracks in my foundation, begging me to feel it's presence. begging me to admit that not everything is as great as it seems. i've tried to ignore it for so long now, that i'm afraid i've only made it worse. the once dull, barely noticeable ache transformed itself into panic attacks, incurable sadness, and a heaviness that feels like it could crush me under it's weight at any moment.
i'm not sure how i let it get this bad; i've usually been able to get a grip on reality fairly quickly, but the darkness has consumed so much of me, that the silver linings seem few and far between.
maybe it's wishful thinking for me to hope for a better day tomorrow, or maybe even a better week. but something.... anything, is better than this.
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12/17/2021 04:27 PM
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the weeks after.
*tw: mentions of miscarriage. Please be cautious if this can be harmful to you.
My body feels foreign.
The emptiness has consumed so much of me, that I don’t even like looking at myself in the mirror. Something I once was proud of, I now hate. I guess it’s hard for me to understand why the universe blessed me with the gift of life, only to rip it from my hands just as quickly.
It’s been two weeks since my miscarriage, and though I know that baby is gone, I still catch myself stealing glimpses in any reflective surface, hand on my now fading bump, wondering what could have been. I wonder if they’d have big ears like their daddy, or if they’d come with a full head of hair. Part of me feels ungrateful for the two children I already have, like they weren’t enough… though, of course they were. But my body… the one that was supposed to protect my baby, provide it shelter and bring it into this world, betrayed me by doing the opposite.
I only really have myself to blame, though. Maybe I wasn’t meant for more than what I already have…
My husband tries to tell me that this wasn’t my fault, but how could it not be?
Maybe if I had eaten a little better, drank more water, provided more nutrients or… something, maybe I would still be pregnant.
I exhale a sigh, dropping my hand from my stomach, and return my attention to the food on the stove, moving around the contents that filled the skillet with a spatula.
“Hey,” Ferg speaks softly, his weight pressed against me from behind, and I can feel his arms snake around my torso, his hands resting on my belly. “What’s wrong?”
His touch used to comfort me, but right now… It was too much. I shake myself free from his grip, pushing him off me gently. “Nothing. I’m fine, I’m just trying to cook dinner.”
I could tell my rejection hurt by the look on his face, but he stayed in close vicinity, arms now folded against his chest. “Len, you can’t keep blaming yourself.” I hated that he knew what I was thinking without me saying it. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Fergie.” I say, dropping the spatula onto the counter with a loud thud. I wasn’t angry with him, but I was angry. With myself. With the universe. With everything that seemingly went wrong since I found out I was pregnant. He couldn’t possibly understand the torment that I dealt with on a daily basis, but I knew that didn’t warrant me being mean to him. Exhaling another sigh, I turn on my heels to look at him, a sympathetic half-assed smile on my face. “Look.. I know you mean well, and I appreciate you looking out for me. But.. I just don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
He doesn’t say much else, just nods and walks out of the kitchen, and I watch, wondering if this would be the thing that pulls us apart from each other.
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12/03/2021 05:08 PM
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what could have been.
*tw: mentions of miscarriage; please be cautious if this is harmful to you.
I thought this would be the happiest month of my life.
Three weeks ago, I took a pregnancy test on a whim - maybe it was just mothers intuition, or maybe I was trying to ease my mind after my missed period. Ferg and I weren’t very careful . . . I knew there was a possibility due to our own stupidity, but I can’t say I was expecting a positive, either. I stared down at the test in my hands, two thin blue lies staring back, and suddenly, my world changed. Could we afford another baby? Would my body react well this soon after giving birth to Apollo? I mean . . . I was only four months postpartum . . . Sighing, I cleaned myself up, walking into the bedroom I shared with my husband. “Welp . . .,” I toss the test on his lap. “Guess we need a bigger place.”
I’ll never forget the excitement on his face when he saw the result, or how he got off the bed to hug me, his hands falling to my belly immediately.
Two weeks ago, I had my first doctor's appointment to confirm the pregnancy. “You’re about three weeks,” my OBGYN, Dr. Montgomery, said as she finished up her exam. “It’s still early, but congratulations Mom and Dad.”
Ferg and I spent the next week discussing our future: where we wanted to go from here, if we wanted to keep the baby, if we should move out of the city and go upstate where everything was less chaotic. I could tell he was excited, that this was what he wanted for us. And I was excited, too. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something just wasn’t right . . .
__________________________________________________
I stared down at the blood in my underwear, and suddenly all my fears were real.
I didn’t know how to react, really. I was too shocked, but not shocked enough to cry. It was like my world, the one I envisioned living in, had come crumbling down around me. I couldn’t peel my eyes away, but staring made it worse. It made it real.
A knock at the door startled me, and I can feel myself jump, voice caught in my throat. “I’ll be right out!” What was I going to tell my husband? He was so happy . . . I can’t do this to him. I can’t break his heart like this.
“Len, you’ve been in there for a while . . . I’m coming in,” Ferg’s voice boomed through the door, and I had no time to protest before he pushed his way into the room, my legs closing tight in an attempt to hide the evidence. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” He asks, kneeling beside me on the toilet.
I felt vulnerable sitting here with him. Almost too vulnerable. What was I supposed to tell him?
“Is… is that blood?” He asks, and it’s only then I notice his gaze is shifted to between my thighs, smeared redness covering my pale skin.
F***, I thought to myself, gaze shifting from my legs to his face. It was only when I saw the horror in his eyes - the hurt in his face - that I started crying. “I’m so sorry. . . I - I thought something was wrong and I . . .” Tears cloud my vision, but I feel his arms wrap around me, delicately - as if he’s trying to not hurt me. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry . . .”
I thought this would be the happiest month of my life. I thought I would be celebrating with my friends and family when I told them the news of a new baby. I thought I would be getting ready to tell Lilah she’d be a big sister again. I thought . . .
Instead, I’ve added another reason to grieve.
I thought this would be the happiest month of my life, and yet, in three short weeks, it turned out to be my worst.
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11/28/2021 05:34 PM
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WLHYL EP 5 - Fergal Zuccalmaglio
Hey hi hello, and welcome to another episode ‘When Life Hands You Lennon’s’, the podcast where we talk about anything and everything! This weeks special guest is my super handsome, super strong, and super talented husband, Fergal Zuccalmaglio! Say hi to the people babe!
-laughs; Salutations to the people.
It’s about time I got your butt in here. Did you bring me any pizza?
The only reason you married me. The pizza. It walks in the room before I do. -laughs; of course I did. But before we move on, I just want to say... you look exceptionally lovely today.
That’s not the only reason! It is high up there on the list though...-laughs, flashing a smile; you’re making me blush, stop it. You look hot today too. But that’s not why we’re here! -laughs; for those that don’t know, which I assume many don’t, you started wrestling again. What made you decide you wanted to get back into it again after spending so much time away from it?
I love to bust your little lady nuts. It's cute as hell. -laughs before growing serious at her question; It's definitely no secret that my wrestling career has been nothing short of controversial. It's no secret that I've struggled with addiction for most of my life. Long story short, for those who don't know, I was let go from the WWE for violating my contract after a very public relapse. As fate may have it, I recently reconnected with Triple H and they are willing to give me another shot. I didn't dream of this when I was a kid, I won't sit here and lie. But I fell in love with it. The free pizza didn't hurt my chances for a comeback either. -laughs;
-laughs, rolling her eyes at him in a playful manner before listening intently; Has it been a hard transition to get back into the ring after so much time off? You’ve obviously stayed in shape - you’re welcome, by the way - but, has it been physically taxing on your body at all after not being in the environment for so long?
It's funny because I'm no stranger to fitness and keeping in shape but man.. the bumps, the hits.. It's rough. -laughs, showing off a few bruises on his arms; I can look like I'm in shape all I want but my body isn't nearly as conditioned as it was during my prime. It's definitely going to take a few long weeks to get back into "fighting shape". I'm excited for what's to come though. It's a plus to have a hot young wife keeping me on my toes.
Like I said, you're welcome! -laughs; Has there been any negative feedback from people in the locker room since coming back?
-thinks for a second, laughing; All I'll say is that not everyone was happy to see me. I wasn't in the best place mentally when I was wrestling and it showed, especially in the locker room. I know that I have much to prove. I know that a lot of that is less about my in ring abilities. I just hope that some of these lads are open to giving me a second chance to prove my character. The real me. Not the a**hole kid fresh out of rehab who thinks the world owes him something. Problem is that ego's get in the way of squashing beef. The only fighting I wish to do is in the ring. That's it. So we'll see.. next interview I'll give you an update. -winks; but what about you? How do you feel about me wrestling again?
I can see why there would be some tension.. but hopefully it won't be too hostile of an environment. I've known you for many years, even back when you were an a**hole kid fresh out of rehab who thought the world owes him something, -laughs, before continuing; and I think you've grown a lot. Which... takes me to your question. I'm excited for you. I know how much you love this sport, and how much you enjoy being in the ring. I've seen how much of your heart and soul you put into it, time and time again. I guess I'm afraid of you getting hurt, though. You're not as young as you once were, grandpa. -grins; Do you have any scheduled matches coming up? Anything to look forward to?
I think the part of all of this that I'm most looking forward to are the cakes you're gonna bring me after my big boy matches. -laughs; I'd like to put in a special request, so jot this down: peanut butter German chocolate. No panties. -nods; In all seriousness, that means a lot to hear you say that. You've seen me at my worst. I'm not proud of it but I am proud of where we are now. -laughs; trust me, I feel it every day. My joints pay a heavy price for this sh*t. It's worth it to me though. I'd run my body into the ground for this. I just love it. -thinks; It's always fun to feud with Seth Rollins, that's what my schedule seems to be leaning towards but I'd say the biggest thing to look forward to is the way the crowd reacts. I'm not sure how well I'll be received. Either way, it's going to fuel me to keep going. Keep getting better. Keep proving myself. I'll build off of whatever they give me.
As if I wouldn't bring you your favorite cake. Might as well make it two of your favorite cakes, if you know what I mean. -wiggles her eyebrows; Hopefully they won't keep you stuck in the same storyline for months and months on end like they did with Brock Lesnar... I'm still mad you didn't win that match at Royal Rumble a couple of years ago. -laughs;
Three.. one for each hand and my mouth. -gasps with a grin; uh oh.. is this PG-13? -looks around, laughing. Adjusting the mic, tugging at his shirt; is it hot in here or just me? -laughs; Yeah, I think that was the only match you watched. Mainly to see me in man panties, admit it. It sure was a time to be alive.. let me tell ya... but no, they aren't going to put me anywhere important for a while if I had any guess. I won't get into the politics right now. We don't need another twitter war between myself and the big man... yet.
Fergal!!! -she laughs, reaching over the table to swat at him; now is not the time!!! Sorry folks, my husband has quite the sense of humor and sometimes forgets there are people listening. -laughs; it wasn’t the only one I watched. Just one of the only important ones. Plus it was a different time in our lives back then! The manties were a plus though. It sucks, in a way, that you have to prove yourself all over again. Are you nervous about that? Or are you nervous about how the fans are going to react to your arrival?
I don't forget, baby.. I just don't necessarily give a sh*t. -laughs; this is why I need PR up my arse 24/7. I'm a work in progress.. but who isn't right? -nods; Ok, fair. You were more interested than I was -laughs; I appreciate you. I always have. -goes to speak but lets out a sigh in thought; I think.. that regardless of whether people love me or hate me they can't deny the fact that I can wrestle. I'm not nervous about how the fans perceive me. To be honest, I expect many more boos this time around. I'm not a face. In wrestling terminology that's the "good guy". I'm coming back as the bad guy. Playing off of the way I left. Boos or cheers, it's a reaction. I'm making people feel something and that's what I'm aiming for. Hate me all day. -laughs;
Fair enough, -she laughs; You can wrestle. I’ve seen it, and there’s definitely no denying your talent. If anything, I’m excited to see you get back out there and kick some ass. I’m sure others will be too!
Okay, we’re gonna switch it up and do a speed round. Ready?
You're making me blush.. -turns red, laughs; my heart is beating extra fast. See what you do to me? Ok.. ready, I am.
Stop, you’re making me blush! Okay! Favorite finisher that’s not your own?
We're exposing ourselves here, babe. -laughs, turning redder; Hmmm... ok.. most definitely the curb stomp and the stone cold stunner. Magic.
Yeah well… everyone knew we were grossly in love with each other so… they’ll get over it. -laughs; Good choices! Favorite place to wrestle?
They don't have much choice. -takes a sip of water; Oh.. one million percent, Madison Square Garden. The energy. The history. I love New York City and that place is it. But I also get that feeling in Ireland. My heart is in both places.
Do you have plans of ever going back to Ireland? Not just to wrestle but to live? Or do you prefer the hustle and bustle that the city has to offer?
It's weird because... I was born in Dublin, ya know.. but I truly feel like I was reborn here in New York. I was adopted here when I was 7 so.. I feel like there are two lives there.. two births, if that makes sense. But that's a topic for another day. I think I could live in Ireland, but I would need a place here too. I would miss the states, I would miss my family. I'm Irish but I'm Italian American. -laughs; who makes pizza for a living and play fights men in underwear. It's a mind blowing existence. I'm not sure I actually answered your question -laughs;
-she laughs, nodding her head; it kinda answered it but I’ll accept it as ‘yes and no’. Speaking of pizza! What made you want to get into opening your own shop?
A drunk night hangin' out with my brother, Nick. We had an idea that we would open up a pizza spot because at the time we were both dealing with some personal stuff. We figured it would be something we could invest in, focus on and give a real sh*t about. Make our parents proud and all that. My dad has many connects and he helped with the business stuff. I found that making pizza, cooking in general, is something that I love and I'm damn good at it. It calms me. It gives me an outlet and centers me. I struggle with addiction so this is my zen. But yeah, it really did come from a drunken idea one summer night on the stoop like two morons. I wish I had better stories for you guys -laughs; I literally just pull sh*t out of my ass and decide to do them.
Hey, some of the best ideas are drunken ideas. That’s how we decided to get married, after all. -she laughs; we have a lot of specialty items on our menu, but what would you say is your favorite to make?
We really did just wing that huh? -laughs; best decision of my life. Quote me. -eyes light up; Oh man.. the Taco Tuesday Pizza is pretty fun. It's an event. People line up for it. It feels like an epic meal time challenge, it's so ridiculous with all that sh*t on it. I enjoy making things that aren't pizza into pizza. Or f***ing around with activated charcoal and sh*t that isn't "normal" for a small New York City pizza spot. The squid ink is a favorite. I'm excited for the Halal pizza we're unveiling soon. The paella pizza. The goat cheese and pear. I don't want to give too much away.. for anyone listening in the Tri-State area come by Zucc Bro's pizza for a taste bud experience unlike any other. Was that a good plug? -laughs;
It was a great plug, -laughs; You guys…. If you’ve ever had food from a Halal cart, you NEED to try the pizza. It’s so f***ing good, my mouth is watering just thinking about it. -laughs; Thank you so, so much for joining me on the podcast today babe! You can catch Ferg on the USA network every Monday on Monday Night Raw, or if you’re lucky enough, you can catch him in the pizza shop Tuesday-Friday when he’s not traveling! That’s all the time we have for ‘When Life Hands You Lennons’, with me, your host Lennon, but make sure to tune into our next episode, starring Benny Novak! And a huge shoutout to our sponsors, the 'Yeah No, I'm Not Ok' podcast & Zucc Bros!.
We made love to it the other night. A full blown flavor orgy with extra white sauce. You can edit that out. Christ. -laughs. Nods proudly in agreement; Oh, the next one should be good. Benny the Squiggz. -laughs; ok ok.. time to shut up. Thank you everyone. Hug a stranger. Peace out.
FERGAL. SHUT UP!-laughs; Night everybody!
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10/25/2021 11:22 PM
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unfinished business.
*a continuation of this piece. please read first to understand what's going on. anyways, thanks for reading if you do.
The ferry ride into Malvada seemed faster than the first time I had arrived, but maybe that was the point. Maybe it was pulling me in for reasons other than Stone. I didn’t think I had any unfinished business here, but it was possible I had blocked everything out of my mind when I left for New York. I turned to the man to my right, a stranger I had convinced to tag along with me on my journey. He had no business in Malvada, hadn’t even heard of it - that didn’t surprise me though, it was a desolate wasteland for the most part. He seemed eager to start a new life in this unknown state, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he wouldn’t have made it very far… He’d be sacrificed to the members of the Res so I could leave once I figured out why I was being pulled here. “You sure you don’t mind taggin’ along?”
“I don’t mind, no. Not like I had much goin’ for me in the city. Malvada…. It sounds like a cool place. Maybe I’ll find myself a lady and settle down. Find a good paying job. Start a life.” I had to keep myself from laughing. He wouldn’t find much of anything here, but I respected his enthusiasm.
“I won’t be here long… gonna just grab some stuff from my old place. We can meet at the diner in Limbo when I’m done. Sound good?”
“Yeah sure, hey I didn’t catch your name?” The man asked, and reluctantly, I reach a hand out to shake his.
“Marie,” I say. “See ya soon.” I say, turning on my heels to find the car I had rented. I figured I’d leave him here to walk, Limbo wouldn’t be too far away…. Unless the roads had other plans for him.
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It took twenty minutes for me to arrive in Limbo.
I remembered the drive to my old apartment like the back of my hand, and as eager as I was to find out what was waiting for me behind that door, I was too afraid to leave the front seat of the car. My hands had a magnetic grip on the steering wheel, eyes glued to the chipped paint on the side of the building.
My cell phone rings, cutting my attention from the door. Ferg’s face illuminates on the screen, and part of me feels guilty for being here. For leaving home to come back to this place… A place full of so much despair and death and dread. A place I no longer belonged. Sighing, my thumb swipes across the screen, and I bring it up to my ear. “Hello?”
“Just checkin in.. seein’ if ya made it.” He says, and I can tell by his voice that he’s not happy. He told me he understood, but how can I expect that to be true? I left him at home with our kids to go explore a life I once lived without him.
“Yeah, I’m here. I haven’t.. I haven’t gone inside yet. How are the kids?”
“They’re okay, Apollo is sleeping. Lilah’s playin’ with the dog.” The mental image made me smile. I wish I hugged them tighter before I left.
“Okay, well.. I won’t be long, okay? I love you.” I say, a faint ‘love you too’ coming from the other end of the phone before I hung up.
If I was going to do this, it would be now or never.
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The apartment looked exactly the same as it did when I left, though the walls were bare and the closets were empty. The only photo left hanging was one of Stone, Lilah and I when she was a year old, a fond memory that I didn’t dare take from this place. My hand reaches out, fingers drifting through the dust that now covered the frame.
“That was a good day, wasn’t it?”
Stone’s voice causes me to jump, spinning on my heels as my hand clings to my chest, an audible gasp leaving parted lips as I see him. He looks good, for a dead man. His hair tucked behind his ear, beard the same length it was the day he died. He leans against the door frame to the kitchen, arms crossed in front of his chest, and for a second, I forget this isn’t real.
“Jesus Stone, don’t do that to me,” I say, rolling my eyes, though my lips tug to a smile. I wasn’t sure what to say, my eyes glued to his face for a long while.
“Where’ve you been?” he asks, sadness in his eyes. I didn’t think I’d have to explain to him my reasons for leaving, or tell him that I got married and had another kid with someone else. I didn’t think I’d feel guilty for it, either. I mean… He left me first, you know?
“Maybe we should sit and talk…”
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09/23/2021 01:30 PM
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wrong place, wrong time.| kirby
*i've neglected some of my other muses so i figured i'd write something for my girl Kirby in time for spooky season. i'm hoping to write more of her soon if anyone is interested in a connection/plot involving her. ok thnks for looking bye
It was easy to reel him in.
It always was.
Kirby’s low-cut shirt hugged her breasts just right, she couldn’t really blame him for staring. “What’s your name?” He’d ask, but she wasn’t dumb enough to give a real answer.
“Tiffany,” she said, manicured hand reaching out to shake his own. She didn’t care enough to ask him for his.
“Haven’t seen you around here before, are you new in town?”
“I guess you could say that,” she replied. “How about you buy me a drink, and we can continue this conversation out back in the alleyway?”
The man happily obliged, ordering her another gin and tonic, and a drink for himself. They spent the night flirting, making half-assed promises of taking each other home and ravishing them the moment they stepped in the door. Well, Kirby’s were half-assed. He seemed pretty genuine about it. Three hours had passed before they finally walked out the door, the man stumbling over his own feet with each step he took. His hands grabbed for Kirby, pinning her to the brick wall of the building, lips messily finding hers.
‘What a terrible kisser,’ she thought as her lips moved with his, trying to make it a little more enjoyable for herself. Though, she never really enjoyed when they shoved their tongues down her throat. Kissing was too intimate for her liking - preferred to keep it to a minimum, at best. She couldn’t risk putting her guard down or feeling vulnerable, but allowed him to continue to kiss her. Slender fingers reached into the waistband of her jeans, a pocket knife hidden under the belt that held them up. Her movements were subtle, he hadn’t suspected a thing - too busy playing tonsil hockey to notice when she flipped the blade.
The jagged edge of the knife punctures the man’s abdomen, just below his stomach.
Blood trickles out of the wound, his hand reaching for the arm that holds the weapon in place, eyes moving to meet the face of his killer. There’s a grin on her lips as she twists the blade, savoring the sound of the man’s pathetic whimpers as he chokes on his blood. A painful melody echoed through the night air as he fought for his life, fading quickly as the knife made a home for itself in another section of his body.
And another.
And another.
There was no motive for this kill - he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or perhaps it was because he was a man, almost all of her kills were (except for her aunt Linda, that bitch had it coming). Maybe she was crazy, or maybe she just needed something to take the edge off - something to ease her anxiety the way drugs once had.
She watched as life drained from his eyes, feeling him slump over a little at a time. It didn’t take long for her to escape his grasp, his body falling to the ground with a THUD. Kirby had done this dance a million times by now; turning the blade on herself, Kirby stabs it into her skin, wincing at the pain that followed. She’d known not to hit any major arteries or organs, known all the ways to make it look like a vicious attack on herself as well. A shaky hand cleans the handle of the blade with an alcohol wipe, before tossing it further down the alley, and a blood curdling scream finds its way out of her lungs.
She falls to the ground in a dramatic effect, really hoping to sell it to the police that she was an innocent victim on this cool September night. A hand clutches her own wound, though it wasn’t nearly as painful her dead partner in crime made it out to be. “Someone help!!” She yelled.
It seemed like forever had passed until someone finally answered her fake calls of attention, a stranger walking down the street running to her side. “What happened??” They’d ask, and she’d wince in pain as they saw the blood.
“We.. We were just trying to have fun, and a man came up and jumped us. He wanted our money, and when we didn’t give it to him, he stabbed me and then… he..” A finger points at the man laying across from her. “He tried to save me.. I think.. I think he’s dead… please help,” words broken through her sobs. She was a good actress when she wanted to be.
When the cops showed up, they questioned Kirby, but found no holes in her story, and she was sent to the hospital to be stitched up, and was released the next day. Admittedly, it wasn’t her best work. It was a sloppy kill, less thought out than her others. She’d have to remember to not be so open next time.
Maybe she was crazy, but at least she hadn’t been caught.
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09/20/2021 07:35 PM
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stupid enough.
* this is a starter for Fergie / the beginning of a drabble series we're gonna work on - everything that follows said storyline is agreed upon by both writers and doesn't chagne our dynamic. pls don't be mean to him lol
I didn’t think he would be stupid enough.
To look me in the eyes, and tell me he loved me, all while pretending he wasn’t coming down from his high, or going through a withdrawal. I knew the signs. I was an addict, too. I know when he’s lying and I can tell by the look in his eye that he’s been using again.
I just didn’t think he would be stupid enough to do it in our home, where I could find it.
The baggy was hidden well enough that the naked eye could barely see it - tucked under a pile of clothes in the corner of the closet. The pile had been sitting there for weeks now, so maybe he assumed I wouldn’t have touched it. Can’t say I blame him though, it’s not like I was keeping up on the house chores. But I couldn’t stand the mess and wanted him to come home to a clean house, and so… I picked the pile up, and to the floor it fell.
At first, my mind didn’t register what I was looking at. But I've seen enough dime bags full of white powder to know. Shaky fingers reach for the substance, holding the bag between my thumb and index, holding it away from me like it were going to explode in seconds. Just the sight alone made my stomach churn, and truthfully, I thought I was going to vomit all over the pile of clothes I had tucked against my chest.
I didn’t think he would be stupid enough.
I managed to make it to the washing machine without getting sick, but the uneasy feeling in my stomach doesn’t seem to settle once I finish cleaning. I don’t think it ever will, to be honest.
My husband is a good man, but a stupid man at that. Maybe he just wasn’t thinking… that was logical, right? Maybe he just forgot that I lost my first husband to the same demon that sat upon his shoulder now. Or maybe he just didn’t care. About me, or Lilah, or Apollo. Maybe he was f***ing selfish and didn’t think about how it would affect me in the long run. As good of a man as Ferg was, he was f***ing stupid.
Hours seemed to pass before he finally arrived home, and I tried so hard to hold my tongue, so hard to not pick a fight. But how could I not? He was bringing drugs into our home, where my babies could find them, and… who knows what would have happened then. I watch as he walks into our bedroom, straight to the closet before his shower. Typical.
“Looking for something?” I ask. My fingers hold up the bag, and I can tell he wants to speak, but I stop him. “I’m going to speak, and you’re going to listen, and then we’ll go from there.” I toss the baggie onto the bed, watching as his eyes follow it. “I don’t know why you would be a f***ing idiot and bring this sh*t into my home, or why you thought I wouldn’t find out you were using again, but I’m really disappointed in you. Did you forget how Stone died, Ferg? Did you forget that he shoved a needle in his arm and f***ing died while doing the same thing you so desperately seem to need? What.. what if Lilah found it? Or Apollo? What would you have done if our f***ing babies ingested this sh*t and they died because YOU were careless. Do you not care about them? Or ME?”
I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, eyes burning with the threat of tears. “How long have you been using?”
Part of me didn’t want to know. I wanted to keep living my ‘perfect’ life with my ‘perfect’ husband and my ‘perfect’ family. But maybe that was the problem… Maybe I was just ignorant to think our life was anything but average. Maybe I was stupid for thinking we just suddenly recover from our addictions rather than fighting with the devil on our shoulders day in and day out.
Sighing, my eyes search his face. “I.. I don’t want to lose you.” It was an admission I had made many times before, but none of those held up much meaning like they do now. Maybe this was the universe's way of giving me karma for not taking care of Stone when he needed me the most. Or maybe it just wanted to laugh in my face and kick me while I'm down.
I couldn’t lose my husband.
Not again… not like this.
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09/20/2021 02:01 PM
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never ending race.
*a reply to Fergie's bulletin. Please check out his work - he's one of the most talented writers I know, and I feel really lucky to be creating with him.
His words seem to cut through me like a knife. There was some truth behind them, of course, but that didn’t make it better. “I’m not Stone, the comparisons need to stop.” He was right - he wasn’t Stone. But I expected him to at the very least, understand. Understand my anger and my fears. Understand WHY I was yelling at him in the first place. Was I being a little hypocritical? Sure. I did like to dip my nose into the white lady every now and then - but I knew when enough was enough, and I knew not to bring it around the kids. Our kids.
“F*** you,” the words flew out of my mouth quicker than I thought they would, but I don’t regret them. He had no right bringing drugs into our home, keeping them around our babies. He had no right throwing my relationship with Stone in my face. He had no right to be angry with me, for being angry with him. My anger builds with each word he speaks, but I try to be understanding. I get what it’s like to want to silence the voices in your head - to put on a mask that hides you from the harsh realities of the world. I know he meant well, and that he wasn’t actively looking to hurt me or our kids, but… his actions said otherwise.
“Do you think it’s fair to Lilah for you to be doing this? Genuine question, Fergie. Because she already lost a dad, and it took a long time for her to get over that. She’s too young to be losing another one. And Apollo?? Do you think it’s fair to him? He’s two months old, don’t you… don’t you think about him?” I take a seat on the edge of the bed, tears staining red cheeks. I didn’t care if he saw me cry, I needed him to feel what I felt. Feel the fear that rushed through my body the second I found the baggie. “You can call me a hypocrite all you want, Ferg. But these kids… OUR kids, they’re my life. I won’t allow them in a situation where their safety is in jeopardy..”
It wasn’t a threat, or an ultimatum. It was the truth.
My head hangs low as he speaks, fingernails picking at the skin around my cuticles. “My feelings don’t matter.” I wanted to stop him - to tell him that they do matter. That he matters. It’s the only reason I brought any of this up, because he matters. But I allow him to continue, watching as he walks to the window on the opposite side of our bedroom.
“I’ll flush it.”
I wasn’t sure I trusted him enough to do it. But I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, to show him that I had faith that he would do the right thing. Exhaling a sigh, my free hand reaches up to wipe at the remaining tears that stained my skin, and I stand, slowly making my way over to my husband. I hesitate with my movements, hands reaching for his face, holding him for a moment so our eyes can meet. “I’m sorry… I know that you’re struggling. I didn’t realize how bad, and I feel awful for that.” My thumb moves across his cheek, caressing his bearded skin. “I love you, and I’m scared - I didn’t.. I didn’t know you were using again. And it brought back bad feelings.”
My hands drop then, and my feet begin to pace in front of him, walking back and forth in an attempt to ease the anxiety that had crept up on me. “I didn’t know Stone was using again when he died. I could have saved him if I did. Not that… Not that I think that would change anything between him and I - we really weren’t good for each other, and I’m sure we would have ended up divorced or something anyway. But.. I could have saved him.”
Word vomit. It was hard to stop once I started.
“And I freaked out because I.. I can’t handle finding you face down on the bathroom floor. It would ruin me. I’m trying to save you, because I couldn’t save him. Don’t you get it? You.. you’re everything to me and I need you to stay alive, okay? Because if you don’t.. If you don’t, then I don’t know what I’ll do with myself or with the kids, or with the dog, or with anything. I need you to stay alive. Please..” My eyes sting from crying as they find his once again, a shaky hand reaching out to hand him the baggy.
“Please…” I plead.
I know my husband is a good man - he has his flaws just like everyone else, and I don’t fault him for that. I don’t fault him for fighting his demons or for giving into the temptation that I’ve narrowly avoided myself. I don’t fault him for falling back into a cycle that’s so difficult to get out of. I don’t fault him for anything, really. I’m scared that one day, he won’t be able to get himself out of this never ending race - that he’ll find euphoria in the presence of only the devil himself.
I don’t need much to live a happy life, but I need him.
I've already lived life without Ferg once, I know I couldn't do it again. And I don't know where we'll go from here, or how we'll make our way out of this cycle - but I'll do anything to keep him safe.
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