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Part 3!
wc. 1.3k cw: violence, alcohol, mentions of death, language and very brief mention of self inflicted harm. a/n: oh my, it's actually taken me ages to put this out here! but thank you all for the patience you have with this story, it means so much. i wanted to put this chapter out before the bone temple release! I can't wait for you to read, and to see the film! all chapters available on ao3
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Ever since he uttered those words. They'd been repeating in your mind. Only the sharp throb of your wound grounding you back to earth.
That night he kept you by his side. Always near, like he needed everyone to know.
As if the brand on your collarbone wasn't enough. Sitting there, scorning.
The bonfire within their camp grew as they danced bolder, laughing and drinking. The same drink from earlier sat by your side, untouched as a bug floated around the surface. You watched as the fire flickered ambers across everyone's faces, despite their manic attitudes. They were just children. All young and broken. In a way, it made sense why they were the way they were. Seeking refuge in a lawless rogue group like feral kids. If they hadn't just destroyed home to the ground you'd almost respect them. Almost.
Your arms were held around your knee, trying to make yourself seem smaller. Not here, at this moment. You looked down at the inverted cross engraved in. It wasn't something holy. It felt wrong. Fuck this, you thought. It hadn't even been a full day since home was burnt to the ground and yet it seemed miles away. The dark full trees above didn't look familiar. Just how far out had they taken you? The youngest of the group, a blonde shaggy wig with a bright grin, sat down next to you. She introduced herself as 'Jimmima'. She didn't need a response from you to continue her ramble. She also wore one of the tracksuits, a signature of this band.
"Aren't ye gonna say somethin?" She asked you leaning in.
You blinked at her, before you almost thought the rage virus had affected your mind with how much you cursed this group. She laughed breaking the short yet sweet silence. "Been a while since someone new joined us!"
You wanted to remind her that you weren't actually joining them, yet she spoke again. "See Jones over there?" You turned your head to see the one in orange blended against the flames.
"He was the newest, well before you. Found him by those tracks up north. Ye know the old train ones. Ye ever seen a train before, workin' one?"
You shook your head.
"Guess that's somethin' in common then!" She practically beamed in response. Yet before she could tackle you down.
"Think you might be botherin' her."
Your face frowned. Of course he was there, watching. Jimmima looked up at him, then without another word scampered off to where Shite and Jones were. You didn't turn back to look at him, just waited for the rustle of grass for when he'd move.
"Ye wanna leave?"
You looked to him in an instant. "Yeah." Voice rough from silence. He smiled, not one of those toothy snake-like grins. Just a smile like you made a joke. Your blood from the knife smeared across his shirt sleeve.
"Thought so. Though, ain't exactly what I meant." His eyes flickered back to yours. "Mean away from this, bit of party."
It felt like a trick question, something to slip you up. Yet for some reason unknown, you saw the genuine in his eyes. "Where?"
"Gotta sleep somewhere."
He stood back, waiting for you to get up. It couldn't get much worse you thought. With the throb of your chest and the dull headache from earlier screaming at you, you stood up and followed him out of the celebration.
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You walked for a bit, the cooler air stinging against your skin. You kept staring at his back, wasn't sure if it was daggers or other ways to murder him.
"Ye gonna keep walking behind like a prisoner? Or ye gonna walk with me?" He said casual, almost playful.
"I'm fine."
You faintly heard him exhale, before he turned back and took your arm. Not with the same force as earlier that day, no. This was much gentler.
"Such a wildcat." He said.
"Quit callin' me that."
He laughed. "Quit actin' like one." You hated how he could joke with you like this. Burn your home and murder your friends just to crack jokes with you like a longtime buddy.
"Keep scowling and it'll leave a line."
"Do you have to talk to me?" You asked. The grass thinned out into the stony earth of the camp.
"Yer in my camp. Yeah." He led you into the thicker parts of the ruins, presumably where most of them stayed. "Course if ye wanna stay at the bonfire for a bit longer?"
"No."
"Didn't think so lass." He said softer.
You both reached an actual room of the ruin. Four walls, not cracked or holed. A makeshift bed sat in the corner with fabrics draped around. "This is mine." He said matter-of-factly.
Of course it was. The only room in the actual camp, catered for a king. "So why am I here?"
He let go of your arm, fingers trailing away as if just a graze. "Cause ye'll stay here too."
"I'll stay outside, thanks." You mirrored his tone. You knew the others didn't talk back, yet you couldn't help it. And somehow, neither could he.
"Course ye will. Better to keep an eye on ye here." He took off his jacket, draping it over the bed.
"Safer."
"You don't trust me, or them?" You asked quietly almost pushing the edge. He didn't answer.
Jimmy acted as if he hadn't heard it. You stepped further into the room, eyes glancing over everything. The rucksacks scattered around, the purple velour on the cover. Then him.
Jimmy stood leaning next to the wall. The layers upon layers of gold jewellery shining in the dim moon light from the gap where a window should be. He didn't stand there as an imposition, he stood like he owned it. Every moment, every space. Yet when you saw those blue irises of his, nothing but rage burned in your body.
"You agreed to stay. No need to act like a prisoner, like I offered. Ye can leave at any time.”
This time he didn't grin, he didn't need to. The grim reality was in fact staying and he knows you know that too.
"Ye stay in here." He said pushing himself off of the wall past you without another word. Leaving you in the quiet of the ruin walls.
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You stared at the wood in the ceiling of the room. Laid down on your back, hoping maybe the wood might rot through. You still had the jacket on from earlier. If there was one thing you could control, it'd be not to freeze to death. The makeshift 'bed' was a generous term you thought. it resembled no more than what it was, piles of soft fabrics and clothes. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't like home.
The warm hearth where Jenny would sit and read as Marcus slept. Or the blanket that Mrs McGlashin knitted for you as the boys said they were too cool for the colour purple. With the faint prick of tears welling in the corner of your eye, you turned to face the door. No use to waste tears for the dead.
As an hour or two passes, you hear the laughter grow and settle past. They were all heading off. You took note to take advantage of their hangovers in the morning, find the layout of this hell hole.
The creak of the door opened. You didn't bother closing your eyes, watching instead as he entered the room. Jimmy of course. "Canny sleep?"
You looked up at him. "No." Stern.
He hummed in response, picking up his jacket from where it laid next to you. You expected him to say something else. A joke about the situation. But he didn't. He just sat down with his back against the stone of the wall and closed his eyes.
You furrowed your brow. Here he was, the same sadistic killer who threatened your home, sleeping a few paces away.
You turned your body to face the wall. Would rather wake up and see it than him.
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Yet when the morning came, the sun kissed your cheek and a warm embrace. Soft and slow, you opened your eyes. Thinking to see the stone cold grey of the wall before was instead replaced by the gold cross against his white shirt clad chest.
Fuck off.
i know its been said b4 but growing up suicidal and then reaching an age you never planned to live to is extremely stressful and terrifying, and we deserve more credit for not killing ourselves and THEN having to make up for the time we spent not caring if we lived or died and not doing work to improve our lives.
i feel behind in life because i spent the last 7 ish years not giving a shit about my future because i assumed id be dead before id have to deal with that, and now i have to start making decisions that many people started considering years ago.
i just feel like. suicidal people dont get credit for firstly, how stressful life is while suicidal, how difficult it is just to do simple tasks, and secondly, how hard it is to recover from years spent not caring once a person is no longer actively suicidal or no longer having suicidal ideations.
I just wanted to put a note here to just mention a couple things!
I am still working on the show me faith series, I’m just in the middle of a massive workload for uni - so I hope that explains why I’ve been so inactive with it!
Likewise, I’ve been doing a lot more art recently as my mental health is a bit rocky right now and drawing/tumblr in general is just such an amazing escapism (at least for me).
Thank you all for your patience!
But anyway. It’s Halloween week!! meaning it’s also my birthday soon so I’m really hoping to either get another chapter out for that or post some more art!
I’ll see you all soon.
Your fav vampire freak.
“you can not love her” they whisper.
“for it is a sin.”
i only smile at there words knowing that they have not knelt at her alter nor tasted the divinity staining her lips. they have not heard there giggles murmerd between every kiss.
“so be it then.” i say.
“i will gladly walk gladly into hell knowing i’ve held heaven in my hands.”
- lyra wren
I think its really funny how people got mad at the story of 28 years later and are calling it disappointing, probably because it didn't have much to do with war and killing zombies and was overall a much more contained story about a kid and his dying mother, which is funny considering the first movie in the series was a fairly contained story about a group of survivors trying to find peace in the apocalypse, 28 days is known for its eerie, quiet shots of Jim walking around a completely empty London and the apocalypse "ends" from natural causes by the end of the film, it's only in 28 weeks where themes of war really come in and there's a reason why it's the least popular of the series, it's filled with explosions and huge action set pieces yet the most memorable part of the story is the family drama in the beginning of the movie
It's also funny to me because 28 years itself seems to be saying "why are we trivializing death and celebrating war? why are we teaching young boys to behave violently?" the heavily stylized, flashy zombie killing scenes go away once Spike steps out on his own, the movie emphasizes the teachings of Spike's dad and the town as being wrong so he chooses to go against them, it's only once he goes off on his own that he learns the reality of death, I think the themes of war and violence are gonna make a return in the next two movies as the underlying theme of this trilogy as a whole but for this movie it was important for Spike to learn this lesson about death in a way that wasn't flashy or loud
