hold me tight {python}

[cass]

[bg=0A0B09][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing, Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding I'm falling to pieces, yeah I'm falling to pieces . It was evening, the time in the day where the sun kissed the horizon, sending its love stretching all the way across the sky. My feet slipped along the ground, my heart pounding as I ran. I was like a deer, the prey and the hunters behind me jeered and leered taunting me as I stumbled forwards, my bare feet scraping the ground and leaving bloodied patches behind. I felt no fear at the thought of what I would come. It was a daily thing. The faster and further I ran the less the bashing was. It was a sick little game, but I played along knowing that they would hurt me worse if I did not run, knowing that if I stood and fight I would die. I was on a beam, balancing between the brink of death and the edge of insanity, both sides needlessly called me towards them and I defied them both, keeping my balance and scaling every higher and further away from their grasps. But then as the night came I would fall. I’d tumble down the steps I had managed to gain footing on and the insanity would call, sending trendils of darkness to grasp at me and yank me down closer to it. Death never did such a thing, and even though it waited and said no words I could feel its impatience and its want. It waited every day for me to slip and I knew that in time it would be feed up with waiting and it would claim me if I didn’t move, if I didn’t climb far away from it. It was that simple thought that kept me moving, that kept me going and not falling. I did not want to die yet. I was not ready to sleep and never awaken. The drumming of feet dragged me out of those thoughts. I was almost twenty and yet I still ran from kids younger then myself. I had lived through so many years and yet I was running from children years younger than my. The world moved with my steps, as I ran through the empty streets, the only sound my ragged breathing and the cries of the hounds as they closed in on their prey. I could remember clearly the one time I had stood and fought, I could remember the feeling of my bones breaking under my left leg, the way they had kicked and kicked and kicked at my chest until I was sure they bones would pop from my skin and I would bleed to death. The leader, a sadistic, savage boy had bent down and warned me that if I ever tried that again they would kill me. That was the day I realised they scared me, that his words sent cold chills down my spine and through my body, because I did not want to die. I really did not want to end up six feet below the soil. So the next week when they hunted me I ran. I ran as fast and as far as I could and they had me believe that I could get away, on a broken leg and shattered ribs. That time they played with me and when they bashed me it was not as bad. Brutal and harsh, but no broken bones. I am not scared of them. I’m scared of no person. I was scared of the silence that came with the other side of the abyss in my mind. The darkness that just sat there, as though it knew that my answer would be with it, as though the impatience it felt was simply a ploy to get me to jump before my time. It was death that had become my fear. When so long ago I had wanted it, when so long ago I had seeked its reassurance and its touch upon my soul. Now I cower away from it, because there is no longer anything welcoming about its final touch, the final drawing of my breath. And the pain that I felt it was welcomed, because it told me I was alive, it told me that I would still exist, no matter how pathetic and sad that existence was. Out of my entire family I was the one that was shunned, I was sure none of them even knew what happened to me. I barely graced them with my presence, preferring isolation to company, preferring the company of taken souls to the living. I did not need them and I did not want them. I loved them, but I hated them. They knew nothing of the pain I lived through. Sometimes I wondered if they knew I existed at all, or if they could see what happened to me would they do anything to help it? Or would they watch like the countless people that had? Most people would be able to answer those questions, knowing that their siblings would help them, knowing that without a second of hesitation the people they loved would come to their aid. I could not. I could not even begin to think of those words and formulate such an answer. I was tired. A trickle of blood slips past my parted lips. It made the sound of my gasp turn into a sharp grunt of pain. The fist that had connected with my left check had not been the first, but it had been the most painful, sending spikes of pain flashing across my mind, and racing down my neck and spine. I had felt the sharp crack of skin against skin, the blood from my mouth as my teeth smashed together, slicing into my tongue. The way the blood swelled up and trickled from my gasping, parted lips. The need for air just caused more pain to spike through me. It was like a fire, unpredictable, untameable and wild. The air that I feed it only increased the pain and I knew that some of my ribs were broken. The split lip, the split cheek and the swollen eye was nothing. I was accustomed to such cruelness and the feeling of that pain had ceased to affect my mind. But never had once these bashings turned into more than a few hits upon my face. Today that had changed. I think they were tired of the little game they liked to play with me, they got angrier and angrier each time as I refused to react and bit into their comments. I stayed floating on the edge of the world, daring myself to jump over the edge, but never would I let another push me. So I did not fall for their taunts and teases, I did not let them slip into my conscious mind and make that decision for me. If I wanted insanity I would fall, tumbling into that dark abyss where there was no return by myself. I would not need their help. Another kick is sent to my chest and without thinking I scream, feeling the bones break, feeling the air leave me and feeling the pain rush through my entire body and envelope me and swallow me. I blink back tears, the ringing sound of laughter echoing inside my mad mind. They say bad things happen for a reason But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding 'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving And when a heart breaks no it don't break even, even no.

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[Python]

[bg=281008][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,499,true] jamarion goravich The evening was young. The sun cast a fading, pinkish glow across the polluted district as it slowly sunk beneath the horizon, letting the moon continue its duties while the air turned crisp. It was the perfect evening for a romantic stroll, a dinner date, or maybe some relaxation at one of the local parks; but no, Jamarion was trapped with grocery duties. Of all the irritating tasks Sephera and Hopper could assign him, this had to be one of the worst. How was he supposed to know what they wanted to eat? Should he buy fruits, vegetables, ice cream? What about meat? They hadn’t even written him a damn list. They just cast him out of their sight with these abrupt demands, asking him to ‘wing it’ for them. He already knew it wouldn’t end well. As always, he would forget something, buy the wrong product, or fail to purchase enough to last them a few weeks. Then, they would groan and complain about his careful spending habits. After two years of being wealthy he had only recently adjusted to spending large amounts of money on fickle things and luxury foods. He had never been granted this sort of responsibility - handling money and expenses - but now there was so much of it all of them could have their own share. It was odd, moving from a poverty-stricken life to a life of polished luxury. But it was also very enjoyable. He sighed pulled a hood over his head to help conceal his face - too many people could recognize me, can’t be too careful.

[/i] Not that he was afraid of a little confrontation, he just wasn’t in the mood to deal with any revenge-seeking assholes or idiot muggers prowling the streets like parasites. He only wanted to run his errands, go home, settle down and maybe share a few drinks with Seph before he crashed in his room for the night. In the past, he would’ve willingly gone searching for trouble on his own terms in his own time, lurking by alleys to find the kids he had labeled ‘targets’ for whatever reason. Whether it was because they insulted him or accidentally knocked over his lunch trey at school, he would punish them for wearing on his sensitive nerves. Now, school wasn’t an issue because he was too old for it now, and he had dropped out once Klaus had returned home from the Hunger Games, shipping in everlasting loads of money with him. Who needs school when you’re rich? He never regretted quitting. He had everything he wanted, now; a nice house, his siblings, a girlfriend. Granted, his life wasn’t perfect and his siblings could be intolerable at times, but it was all he could ever ask for, even if Hopper was a whining crybaby, and Marina a completely psycho.

Speaking of psychos, he suddenly heard a blood-curdling scream. It was distant and eerie, prompting him to freeze in his tracks, but judging by the echoes it was bouncing from an alley nearby. Was somebody being attacked? It wouldn’t surprise him; crime was rampant in the streets of district three, especially after dark. There were so many places to hide and so many people to victimize. Wasn’t their district supposedly one of the most populated? He couldn’t remember. He just knew that his instinctive curiosity was stronger than his logic. He should’ve minded his own business and carried on instead of playing hero or turning into an audience, but he couldn’t battle the urge to stick his nose in their business. Quietly, he slipped into the darkness and followed the sounds of laughter. They sound young. Probably bullies. Classic bullies, ganging up on a helpless victim to humiliate them with pain and suffering. He knew the type. They were pretty typical in this area, and they were ruthless. They didn’t care who or what they tortured, as long as it could scream.

He peered around a corner and found the source of the disturbance. As he had guessed, there was a group of young teens surrounding a crumpled figure. There were four boys, and one girl, all were barking with incessant, sadistic laughter as one of the boys stepped forward and landed a kick in the figure’s ribs. She screamed again, and this times it sent chills through his bones. I know that voice. He had heard that voice scream and shout before. He knew it, and with a sense of dread squinted his eyes and tried to focus on the girl to prove himself right or wrong. She was spitting blood, letting the red drip and coat the outsides of her lips, but he recognized her face as soon as she lifted her head. He knew those grey eyes, that round face, the chestnut red hair. Marina! He could see her clearly now. Her small face was contorted in pain, and her cheeks were smeared with blood and fresh tears. The two had never gotten along as siblings; she had an imaginary friend, and he had wanted her to wake up and smell the harsh reality. He had bullied her until she cried at some times, and he had admittedly been very cruel to her. They were constantly bitter with one another, always snapping and never exchanging kind words. It almost seemed like the two hated one another, but this is too much. He would never wish this upon her, and he felt his blood boil at the mere sight of it.

Without warning, he leapt out of his hiding place and launched a clenched fist at the nearest boy - the boy who had kicked his sister in the ribs, sick bastard. The familiar throb of pain followed when his knuckles connected with a thick skull, sending the oblivious boy into a cold unconsciousness as his body slammed against concrete. A second boy, yelping when he noticed the assault, growled and lunged at Jamarion with teeth bared. The boy clumsily swung his fist at a wide angle, a deadly mistake. Jamarion caught it with ease and twisted the arm until he heard a pop, relishing the boy’s squeak of defeat before he struck him in the abdomen and slammed his head against the edge of the nearby dumpster. When he whirled around, expecting to face more competitors only one boldly remained, and it was the girl. The others had realized that they were outmatched, and fled the scene before Jamarion could bash their skulls too. The girl, meanwhile, stood wide-eyed and terrified, but refused to move as if her feet were glued to the floor. ”If you or any of your boys touches my sister again, I’ll send all of you to the fucking medical center. Got it?” he spat maliciously, to which the girl replied with a nod and scurried off before he could toss her into the dumpster.

With the enemies out of their hair, Jamarion rushed to kneel beside his sister and assess her injuries. ”Marina,” he spoke cautiously, testing the grounds before he dared invade her personal space. He couldn’t trust her sanity with all of this chaos, not yet. ”Are you okay?” He needed to check her ribs. They could be severely bruised or broken, and if that happened they could puncture her lungs. He didn’t need to be a genius to figure that one out. ”Do you want me to take you to the medical center?”[/size][/justify][/blockquote]
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Credit to Dars for the table

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[cass]

[bg=0A0B09][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing, Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding I'm falling to pieces, yeah I'm falling to pieces . It was all his fault. It had always been his fault, since the day I had let that idea slip from my mind. It had taken years, years of his constant bullying, picking and teasing until I sent her away. It had hurt; I had felt it in my chest, as though some part of it had been torn from that beating, echoing part of my body. All my life she had stayed beside me, a shallow cut out of who I was and everything that I had once been. She had become the sapped out joy in my life, all of my sanity shoved into a hollow, make believe girl. A single flickering image of what I was, every bit of the good, and the well, the happy and the bright shoved into the skeleton of something sop unreal and fake. Something that had been the constant companion of my life – the thing that had essentially kept me going, kept me moving, kept me living. Someone that had filled a whole in a space that had been empty for so many years, a hole I never thought I’d ever fill. It had been some dug out empty space that had been there for so many years. I did not know how it had gotten there or why, it was just there. We had talked and spoken, I had shared so many secrets and truths with that girl. She was my everything. She made me whole. I knew that she did that, I knew who she was and what she was made of – twisted dreams, scattered hope and falling wishes. No one else knew, no one else saw what she did. They just said and picked and teased and told me what she was, they assumed she was nothing that she was no more than an idea. And yet she stole everything that I was from me. She took all the good and all the sane parts of my being. It was what drove me crazy and it was her. That tiny, voice that sounded exactly like my own that forced me to do things I did not want to do. She pushed and tugged at my conscience and made me do them. And it was all his fault. Jamarion’s picking and teasing, his cruel, hurtful, painful words would lash out at me. They would bit into me like venom and poison me. They swirled like a withering mass of coiled snakes in the back of my mind, occasionally lashing out and making me stop, making my entire body freeze as they spread like some disease and took over. It was the end. Five years of that constant torture caused me to realise that maybe he had been right. That maybe Kofa, the girl that had become everything to me was nothing more than a person that was willing to destroy me. She was me. And I did, I wanted to destroy me, I just made her into something I could not resist, something I could not tell to stop and go away. She became the good version of me, the one that no one could say no to, except I was the only one that could see her. Jamarion hated that, he hated it with such a passion that he would spit and hurt me, he had hit me once. His hand was like a cold, cruel slap of reality. I think that was the little bit that pushed me over the edge. That little push that sent my body falling over the edge of the cliff where only Kofa could die. It had been the hardest thing I would and could ever have to do. As I let her slip from my mind she fought back at me. Her talons had dug themselves deep into my soul; she did not want to leave. But I persisted, pushing with every bit of mental strength I had, I shoved and scratched and clawed with every bit of energy and strength that I possessed. I would not fail in this one fight that would mean so much to me. But of course when she finally left she took it all with her. She took the good and that bit of sanity that had kept me from becoming insane. She stole it with her like a ghost and I could never catch her again. Every time I tried she would slip through my fingers like sand and water. She was gone and with it all the good that I ever had. I’m nothing more than an empty shell now. I’m really nothing. Just a thing that does what she needs to, to keep going and I’m not even sure why I do. I’m not sure why I ran today. Why I did not just lie down and wait for them to get me and kick me. To feel my blood swell on their fists, on their shoes and their hands. It would be so easy. They could kick me to death, my ribs splintering, and cracking through my skin. The life pouring out of me. Just like it always wanted to. Yet I run. I run every time they chase me or threaten the tightly woven basket of life I have. I don’t think it is because I’m not ready to die, oh I am, and I could die right here and now and there would be nothing I would say against the idea. No. It isn’t because I value life; it isn’t because I care for this thin, piece of lifeless being that I have become. It is because that for some reason, for some reason that I cannot fathom part of me wants to keep going. Part of me still fights against the idea of death, no matter how comforting and welcoming it will be. I don’t want it, not yet. I’ll accept it if it happens, but for as long as I can put a foot in front of me I will shun it and make it take a step back and away from me. I’ll do what Kofa did for me, but I’ll do it for myself, by my own hands and by my own rules. If I die it will be by my hand and no one else, if I scream and cry it will be because I want it. And with that thought I feel another scream bubble on the edge of my lips, trying to slid past the blood that slips past parted lips and trails down my chin. I can’t find the strength to wipe it away, so I let it fall to the ground, drip, drip, dripdrip is the sound that feels my mind. I close my eyes tight, waiting expecting the next kick, but instead I open them to the flickering and oh so familiar sounds of pain, pain that is not coming from my own lips, but rather from my attackers. My lifeless grey eyes manage to swivel upwards, as I take in the new scene before me. The unconscious body of a boy lies not too far away from me; from this distance I can already see the angry red spot on his head, where someone has hit him. Then there was another figure, I tried to focus my eyes on the boy, the stocky, tall boy who lashed out again at another boy, sending him falling to the ground. But my sight was just as blurry as the rest of what was happening. I couldn’t comprehend it, I couldn’t understand it. ”If you or any of your boys touches my sister again, I’ll send all of you to the fucking medical center. Got it?” It was the word sister that registered with me first. It was odd, a rather odd statement. One that, within the confines of this situation I was in, I never thought I would ever, in my wildest dreams hear. But after a hesitant second of puzzling over this I finally realised that it wasn’t just that word that struck an odd cord, but it was also the familiar voice that made my eyes flicker with some deep confusion. I couldn’t understand this. For a second I hesitated, believing that maybe this was some kind of cruel sick joke, that maybe my tormentors were playing with me. Who better to add into the game then Jamarion? Who better to add into the game then a boy that had been my constant companion to every good thing that happened, the boy that would turn everything sour and bad. The boy who had gotten rid of Kofa, who had made me into something less than what I once was, but more than what I would ever be. I wasn’t much, but I was something and the brash, hurtful boy who came to kneel beside me, saying my name, my name echoing in the air, had just saved me. ”Marina,” the words were tentative, the way a person speaks to a wounded animal that could lash out at any moment. ”Are you okay?” Numbly I shook my head, but that resulted with a sharp spike of pain coursing through my body. I tried to bit back a cry of pain, but I could not. ”Do you want me to take you to the medical center?” I manage a slight nod of my head, flecks of white crossing my vision with the pain of just moving that little bit. That was it. Without knowing why or without thinking I began to cry, great sobs racking the length of my entire, beaten, broken body. With a blood stained hand I reach forwards and clutched at Jamarion, just wanting him to hold me, wanting him to hug me and to help me like he had before. Like he use to do when I was little, before I had gone insane, before I had destroyed my life. I buried my head into his shoulder, tears streaming down my face, turning red as they mixed with the blood that still trailed from my lips. After a moment the sobs turned into painful gasping, as my chest began to burn with a great pain. It was getting harder to breath, and my hands tightened on Jamarion’s shirt, my thin, pale hands clutched him with all the pathetic strength that they had. “I’m-I-I’m sorry.” I gasp, through the pain, because no matter what he had done to me all my life I was glad it was him there. I was glad it was him because he did not know, but he was the one who had saved me, not only from those kids that had hurt me, but he had taken Kofa away from me and without her I was nothing, I was empty and hollow, and sad and insane, but I was alive. They say bad things happen for a reason But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding 'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving And when a heart breaks no it don't break even, even no.

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[Python]

[bg=281008][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,499,true] jamarion goravich Jamarion anticipated a plethora of reactions: a bout of rage, a lash of frustration, a scream of fear, a hysteric flail, anything that was a signature of Marina’s instability. He expected her to burst into a fit of hostility and insult him, mock him, even threaten him despite everything he just did to save her from the pack of hungry bullies. The last thing he expected her to do, however, was break. Tears trickled down reddened cheeks and gasping sobs made her throat contract, and within seconds she was clutching the fabric of his sweater and burying her blood-crusted face into his shoulder, making no attempt to quiet the cries of pain and helplessness. The awkward truth that comfort was not his forte settled in, and he hesitantly patted her back with eyebrows furrowed in mixed confusion and sympathy. He knew Marina was unbalanced in every way possible, but this? Searching for reassurance and safety in his cold, iron heart? She must’ve been desperate. What these bullies were doing to her, it must’ve triggered something deep inside of her troubled conscience. She sought warmth in a boy she treated as cold-blooded, and the prospect of her craving his companionship was difficult to comprehend, but it wouldn’t stop him from lending a helping hand. ”I’m-I-I’m sorry,” There were a million misdeeds she could be apologizing for. All of the insults, the attacks, the feral feline ambushes, they all called for an apology, but now was not the time for mending broken bonds. Instead there were cracked bones to worry about, floating inside of her chest cavity and posing as a sharpened sword that could swipe at any moment’s notice. He quietly shushed her, warning her not to speak in fear of provoking these swords, and cautiously wrapped his arms beneath her crumpling form. ”Try to sit still,” he grunted, lifting her battered body from the ground and settling her into his arms. Her sobs had transitioned into scratchy gasps that summoned spurts of blood, and with little time to waste he paced quickly out of the alley and outlined his mental map of the area, recalling the detours and twists he would have to follow in order to reach the medical center before Marina hacked up her ribs. The center was several blocks away and the evening was still in its youth. The polluted air was still crisp, the moon was still shining, and the residents were still lingering in the streets, suspiciously eyeing him as he passed by with a bleeding girl dangling in his arms. He didn’t care what they thought; Marina was family, and he was going to help her no matter what the cost. Past the swinging doors of the emergency hall the area seemed devoid of living souls. The only present heartbeats were that of a few lingering nurses, and a woman lounging behind her desk shuffling through paperwork. He immediately raised his voice to capture their attention and demanded a room for his sister, to which the woman replied with a bombardment of questions that he didn’t want to answer, not when Marina was wheezing and bleeding in his arms. ”Marina Goravich.” “She got into a fight,” “No, I don’t know where the other assholes are,” “I think her ribs might be broken,” “Does that really fucking matter right now?!” After excessive insolence and impatience from the boy the woman finally sighed and summoned the doctor to the emergency room. When he appeared, the doctor escorted him to one of the private ‘rooms’ separated by measly curtains and politely asked him to set Marina down on the bed so they could roll her away and perform a few X-rays to prove or disprove Jamarion’s initial hypothesis. In the meantime, the nurses handed him a few magazines to help pass the time, but he swatted them away and sat down in the room instead, idly combing his fingers through his hair and resisting the temptation to break their supplies for pushing his patience over the edge. ”Good news.” The doctor appeared, alight with a sickening, perky aura that pinched his nerves. ”Your sister does have a fractured rib on her right side, but it isn’t enough to break blood vessel or pierce her lungs. With a little rest, she should be just fine.” The nurse rolled Marina back into the room, her form now embraced by a gown rather than her bloodied clothes, and he almost sighed with relief until the doctor tapped his arm and pulled him aside. ”That’s not all I wanted to tell you, though.” He blinked and stared blankly at the man, waiting for him to stop wasting time and carry on. ”We discovered signs of previous rib fractures while we were examining her." Wait, what? ”What do you mean?” he asked, though part of him already knew the answer to the question. The doctor’s expression turned grim. ”I mean this isn’t the first time your sister’s ribs have been fractured. Whatever happened to her has happened before, and I advise you to do something about it. Maybe approach the Peacekeepers about the issue.” Jamarion clenched and unclenched his fists. So, Marina was a regular, was she? He knew how to take care of that problem, but it wouldn't involve any damn Peacekeepers. After the doctor departed, advising only that she rest and treat the swelling area with care, Jamarion crossed his arms over his chest as the nurse informed them that they were free to leave whenever they were ready, as long as Jamarion paid the dues beforehand. He waited until the room was silent to verbalize his concerns. ”Why didn’t you tell anyone, Marina? He scowled and wrinkled his forehead, but he wasn’t sure whether to feel angry or sympathetic. Right now, it seemed to be a mixture of both surging through his veins, making him feel as if he were somehow powerless in all of this. ”Were you just going to let those kids beat the crap out of you over and over again and not do anything about it?” He didn’t understand. Marina was a feisty fighter, wasn’t she? She was always bold enough to stand mighty against him, so why not them? Sure, she had been outnumbered, but it wasn’t difficult to recruit some back-up body guards. Hell, she could’ve asked him to help her out. Given the chance, he would’ve bashed every one of them until they cried for forgiveness, but now it seemed his crazy little sister was suddenly helpless. Why?

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[cass]

[bg=0A0B09][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing, Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding I'm falling to pieces, yeah I'm falling to pieces . When I was little, only six years old Hopper had worked all day for two weeks, saving up every single penny he could get. At the age of seven he had already become the families main income source, father had sunk into the hallow ball that still consumed him to this day. We didn’t have much money, but Hopper, persistent, kind Hopper was determined enough to spend half of it on buying all of us an ice cream. It was a rare treat that none of us had ever had before. Hopper had told us once that it was his favourite thing, and that it was cold and it tasted sweet and icy and so yummy that mother had snuck one to him every month, before we were all born. Before she died. All of us six kids were absolutely excited for this, we all followed Hopper like dogs down the streets, on our little legs as our older brother lead us through the empty streets and around to the most expensive store in the whole of the district. None of us had ever set foot in there before. Everything in there was meant for the people in the districts with money and good jobs. But Hopper had worked so hard and no one could argue him out of what he wanted to do for all of us. He had told us to wait outside while he went in and got the ice creams. I’d watched as the shop manager had given him a cold look, not believing that the ragged, dirty boy before him could even afford a thing in that shop. Surprise, however, when Hopper drew out a lot of coins he had eagerly jumped to do what Hopper had asked. It had made me laugh to watch the man’s face, his head nodding, his eyes wide and greedy, set on the coins. Hopper looked awed at the many types of ice cream within the store and for a moment he just stood and stared. Jamarion ever impatient tapped on the window, and that got Hopper going. Within a few minutes he was coming outside and handing all them around to each of us. Lyana had grabbed the pink one, she loved strawberry flavoured things. Hopper had passed me the vanilla one and I’d instantly licked it, surprised at the sudden cold that hit my tongue. After a few seconds I had giggled, the wonderful taste spreading through my mouth. I had never had something so sweet before. Hopper told us to move back and away from the shop, so people could see it and not see the ragged bunch of kids in front of it. As I stepped forwards, my little hands grasping the cone the ice cream slipped and it fell to the floor. Tears welled up in my eyes, but before I could even utter a single cry Jamarion came up to me, offering me his ice cream to share with him. I remember that day every time I see Jamarion; I always try to force it into my mind when that pig-headed ass hole talks to me, his words snappy and biting right into me. I try to remind myself more often than not that beneath it all there is a decent guy. There is a boy that would do a lot to help his family and care for his siblings. Sometimes it is hard to believe that and I think more on the idea that Jamarion has changed, that he was not the boy who had once helped me when I had grazed my knee, shared his ice cream with me when I dropped mine. It is not that hard to see it now. To see it right now as I bury my shaking head into his shoulder. As his strong warm arms wrap around my thin, cold body. It was an odd thing to feel him holding me protectively rather than hitting me and shoving me away as I tried to claw him and slap him. More blood slipped past my lips, and I tried not to cough and get it all over him. A set of doors were shoved open and the blast of hospital air hit me. Jamarion walked ahead, his voice booming in the silence of a soulless world. I could feel his words rumbling from his chest, vibrating, but my head was too fuzzy to make out anything he was really saying. After what seemed like a lifetime Jamarion started walking again, until he gently placed me down on a hospital bed. I instantly tried to sit up, but was forced down by a spout of pain that caused more blood to well up at my lips. I wiped it away, smearing it over the white sheets I was on. The bed started moving and within a few short moments I was in a room, a doctor telling me to not move as he was going to take an x-ray. Normally I would have snorted, at made some stupid remark. Like hell I was going to move. I’d already tried that one; it was not going to work. The doctor came back in and a few nurses grabbed the ‘bed’ and wheeled it back to the room it had been in originally. I felt dizzy, but this time as I shoved myself upwards the pain held out long enough for me to prop myself up. I let out a small grunt, hating the idea of lying down. I felt really vulnerable here. As the doctor began to talk to an impatient Jamarion, I felt my blood chill. I stopped what I was doing and listened. I could hear it. I could hear the surprise and the brash annoyance and I knew he was going to say something. Of course he was. Preparing my best defiant glare I look aver to him as he started to speak. His arms were crossed over his chest, in annoyance. ”Why didn’t you tell anyone, Marina?” It was a question I had asked myself over a dozen times before. I didn’t need to rely on anyone, least of all siblings that hated me, least of all Jamarion. Jamarion had been kind and nice today, but to me it was something that would end as easily as his temper. It switched within seconds. Besides I didn’t want his help. I didn’t need someone to protect me. I could protect myself. I had fought off a lot of people. ”Were you just going to let those kids beat the crap out of you over and over again and not do anything about it?” I scowled. “I’m not you Jamarion, I can’t beat off five kids. I’m a tiny little stick with half of her mind in the gutter, that can’t think for herself. And you are saying that I’m letting them beat the crap out of me.” A hint of desperation entered my voice, “I’m not, you have no idea how much I’m fighting, how much I have tried.” I bit my lip hard, forcing the tears back, because I could not cry again. I could not and would not cry in front of Jamarion. “Why? You want to know why I never went to any of you? Why I never told any of you? Look at yourself Jamarion. Look at everything then look at me. I’m a lunatic, and most of all I don’t need anyone’s help, I’ve lived long enough without asking for anything and doing it by myself that when I have a problem or I need something the person I go to is me.” I looked away from him, not wanting to meet his angry gaze. I looked after myself. I was grateful he had helped me out this time, but I didn’t need him. They say bad things happen for a reason But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding 'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving And when a heart breaks no it don't break even, even no.

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[Python]

[bg=281008][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,499,true] jamarion goravich There was an edge of truth to her words. She was not capable of defeating five bullies simultaneously, especially when four of them were twice her size. She could kick, scratch, bite, slap - Ripred know she’s done all of these things to him when they argued - but it appeared being outnumbered meant something to a twig like her. For Jamarion, it merely meant a challenge. Numbers below seven he could handle - of course, not without a few consequences like a bleeding nose or broken jaw, maybe a few cracks in his ribs here and there. Marina was more of the temperamental cat scratching fighter who acted only upon animalistic instinct, rather than a skilled fighter who could deal a perfect blow like an expert. But that didn’t explain the rest of her statement. ”I’m a tiny little stick with half of her mind in the gutter, who can’t think for herself.” What was that supposed to mean? Was she admitting her own insanity? He had always labeled her ‘insane’ - though he used more inappropriate terms like “crazy bitch” - but this was not the time to be losing to insanity’s pull. He would agree that Marina was a bit off, especially after all of that imaginary friend crap, but she could think for herself. Otherwise, she would just be a brain-dead vegetable rather than his suffering little sister. ”I’m a lunatic, and most of all I don’t need anyone’s help, I’ve lived long enough without asking for anything and doing it myself that when I have a problem or I need something the person I go to is me.” She wasn’t wrong about the lunatic part, but the rest of her argument was flawed. It was admirable for her to rely on herself like any independent woman should, but not in this case. She was out of her league and could’ve died if he hadn’t appeared to rescue her. If these bullies were endangering her life, she could not simply rely on herself. She needed a hero. ”And how is that going for you?” He asked bitterly, glowering at her with obvious contempt. He wouldn’t let her win this argument. Independence was something to earn and cherish, but right now it was merely her stubborn side speaking for her. She was too caught in her own confident web to ask for help because she was in over her head, and assumed she could handle anything. Obviously she couldn’t, or else Jamarion wouldn’t have carried her battered body out of the alley and into the medical center. ”Don’t be stupid, Marina. You can’t rely on yourself all the time, you just proved that.” He sighed and swallowed the anger that threatened to bubble in his chest. He was irritated by her silly statements but this was not the time nor environment to let himself be consumed by his raw anger. The important fact was that Marina was here, she was alive, and she would heal with time. Hopefully, it would be the last time she ever had to heal. ”Next time, how about you tell someone about these assholes so I can hunt them down and kick their asses? They won’t be able to chase you with their own broken ribs.” It felt like a peace offering, these words. He wasn’t sure what he was truly offering other than his help as an experienced body guard. If Marina didn’t want his strength, then fine, but she needed it if she wanted to continue basking in her reputation as the defenseless lunatic of the Goravich family. They all had their reputations; Hopper the odd, pessimistic leader, Jamarion the angry bully, Klaus the timid victor, Tacara the frightened mouse, Lyana the aggressive guardian, and Marina the unstable victim. At the end of the day none of it mattered because they were tied with family blood and nobody could actually seriously injure them without consequences, but evidently some work needed to be done about Marina. Jamarion would be more than thrilled to kick some asses if it meant getting her back on track. There was something bothering him, though. It wasn’t the nurse lingering by the entrance hoping for their departure or his failed effort to try and shoo her away with a gesture of his hand - it was the time. It was early in the evening, not too long after the sun vanished but long enough to raise his suspicions. He had been out grocery shopping on orders of Hopper and Sephera, who would be too stubborn to leave him be empty-handed, but what the hell had Marina been doing? If these bullies were on her tail, why would she even wander during this time of night? It was practically suicide, and she couldn‘t possibly have business with anyone during this time of night. He didn‘t remember her having friends, so what else was out there for her? ”Why were you wandering around alone at night anyway? You should know better.” He didn’t want to sound like a chastising big brother, but Marina was making mistakes and suffering on their behalf. Somebody had to fix it before it spiraled dangerously out of her control, and since nobody else in the family had the courage or physical brutality to save her skin from those sadistic bastards Jamarion would take on the task himself, whether she liked it or not. And he would not lose.

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[cass]

[bg=0A0B09][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing, Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding I'm falling to pieces, yeah I'm falling to pieces . He was being unfair. He was being cruelly unfair to me. He did not know what it was like to be me. He did not know what it was like to see what I had seen. To feel the kinds of things I had felt. He knew none of it. He knew nothing and yet he assumed what it was all like. He assumed that it was so easy to just be the crazy one. It was who I was after all. I glare at him. Unable to take my pain rimmed eyes away from him. He knew nothing. He did not know that I was so close to becoming some insane freak that I was so close to slipping over the edge where I wouldn’t be me. Where this person right now facing him would not exist. It was like that part of you was killed and this other being inhibited you and destroyed every essence of the person you were beforehand. He didn’t know that, of course he didn’t. He lived in his bliss little word where all there was, was people for him to hit and there was Sephera and there was nothing that could just come tumbling down. If I died what would happen? They would mourn me, yeah, but I had made no lasting effect on their lives for them to remember me. No I was that crazy bitch that was a no one and that meant nothing. The attention seeker and the trouble, no, I was nothing more than a skeleton of what a person could be. I’d been very grateful for him helping me, which had been very kind of him. He’d helped me, he’d done me a favour, but that was enough. I didn’t need him to babysit me. I’d been in situations like this before and I always worked it out. I knew how to handle myself I didn’t need his help. I could look after myself. Ripred was he that stupid. Did he not know that since the age of seven when everything had started going haywire in my brain I had started looking after myself. When I was bullied I fought back. When I was bashed and hurt I hit back and more people came and I tried to fight back I can’t hit and fight that many people and so I learnt how to run. By then I had already grown distant to the rest of them. By then I was an alien and Jamarion had already start becoming a bully he had already started growing into this big guy that teased me. The days of his help had long since gone and I’d fallen into the trap of meeting Kofa, of having a friend I had never had before. I didn’t have friends in school. I was too different and odd and different makes others scared so instead I became their object of torment. Kids didn’t want to hang with me or get to know me so I made my own friend. I slowly slipped away from the rest of my siblings and I learned to think and act for myself. I survived because after I had learnt how to run I learnt how to hide. And sometimes I just got tired of hiding and being scared. I just got tired of looking behind my shoulder every few minutes and running and running so I’d let them get me and I’d fight and I’d try and I’d hope that they would leave me alone. But they never did. They kept on coming and I told no one because they did not care. Only when it was important to them did they care. If they cared they would have seen all the bruises, they would have noticed the blood on my clothes and the cuts, the gashes and the pain. If they cared they would have seen it on me, written like words on paper, but none of them ever did so I pretended not to care as well. If they didn’t why should I? That was why I kept it going. That was why it stayed; I stopped caring, just like they stopped caring for me. ”And how is that going for you?” I glare at him, dead grey eyes filling with a cold fire of fury. ”Don’t be stupid, Marina. You can’t rely on yourself all the time, you just proved that.” He was getting angry, but I was as well. He’d never cared, the only thing he had ever done had been to tease me, he had even hit me a few times. He had tormented me and Kofa had grown and become something more because of him. He had also torn her from me. He had been the reason at first why I had stopped caring. Then it had been all of them. And now he was here before me pretending to understand what it was like, daring to speak about it as though he could possibly get what it was like. He had someone, he was in love, and he had had people all his life. He hadn’t. They had been no more than people to call family. They had not been one. Not to me. ”Next time, how about you tell someone about these assholes so I can hunt them down and kick their asses? They won’t be able to chase you with their own broken ribs.” He just didn’t get it.”Why were you wandering around alone at night anyway? You should know better.” I ignored that question, to angry to care. ”You know nothing, Jamarion. You think you get it, but you don’t. You are just pretending to understand something that you don’t get. And I’m not even going to explain it to you. You think you are so smart. So if you know all of the fucking answers then maybe you should actually take a look and see if you can see it. Stop blaming this all on me. Because it isn’t only my fault. I’m not crazy because I wanted this. I didn’t create Kofa because I was bored one day. Don’t you see?” Tears spring to my eyes and I wipe them messily away. “I made her because I needed her. I made her because I had no one else. When I was seven years old I had no friends. I had no family. When we got to school you all had people, but I was far too weird and odd so I created someone who could be like me. Someone who understood me and you know what you did? You tormented me because of that. You destroyed me because of that. She became the essence of my life because you forced me to make her into something that loved me. Because when you got everything you stopped doing just that. When I got too weird for even you to handle you saw me like the rest of the kids: a lunatic. And I just got crazier and crazier and all of you just thought that was who I was, but it never started off that way. It was who I became when everything turned to shit and I had no one. When I had no one I had to make somebody care, and in the end that was me. So in the end it has always been me and no one else.” I stare at him. Breathing heavily I look away, forcing myself to not meet his eyes. ooc -- [ oh god here she goes thank gods I have photography otherwise I would get no replies done whilst studying xD ] They say bad things happen for a reason But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding 'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving And when a heart breaks no it don't break even, even no.

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