Jesse.

Ain't enough assholes trying to break out of prison, you two gotta try and break /in/? Don't let the Dead fuckers chew on your crazy asses, mmmkay?

Happy fuckin' birthday to @BPRP_Beastie and @RP_Beezy. I'd wish you ladies cake, but I ain't got any.

-- Wouldn't they? //

-- Hastily rubbing his eyes with his shirt sleeve, he stepped to the window, carefully drawing the curtain, scanning the street. Mister White was gonna come. He. Was. Coming. And they'd get out. Alive. --

-- willing the corpse behind the bed to just disappear. Fuckin' vanish. Get gone before Mister White showed up, and she got buried in a fuckin' barrel. Wishful thinking. Good stuff hadn't ever happened for him, and it sure as shit wasn't gonna start now. --

-- Pop, fuckin' pop. Two bullets and she'd dropped to the carpet and stilled, taking the best part of him with her. He still couldn't look at her body. Closing his fist around the slice in his hand, blood seeping from between his fingers, he glanced down at the floor, --

-- She didn't know her name. Didn't hear him when he begged, /begged/ for her to stop. To calm the fuck down. She'd come for him. Come bent, broken and growling, wearing whatever she'd drowned in, dribbling down her goddamn chin. So he'd shot her. Two shots. --

-- tracing crimson red over the gold leaf criss crosses, making its way to the stains #Jane's corpse had left on the rug. He hadn't meant to kill her. He didn't know what else to do. She'd /died/, died and woken up. Eyes gone gray, groaning and lunging for his throat. --

-- His hand thrusting out to the side, he shredded the skin of his palm against the dingey room's broken mirror. Jaw tight as a tear slid, unnoticed down his cheek, he snapped his gaze to the wall, watching as blood from the slice swirled against the fuckin' awful wallpaper, --

-- Or when it came back. --

-- every time he closed his own, like a midnight movie nobody wanted to see. If pressed, he didn't know what was worse. The light leaving her eyes. --

-- #Jane. The first girl to look at him as something /more/ had looked to /him/ to save her life and he'd utterly failed. Failed, and as a fuckin' parting gift, the image of the light draining from her beautiful eyes was burned in his brain. Replaying nightly, --

-- his skin, loving touch turning to a flailing grasp for purchase as her life was stolen and she drowned. Drowned in, what? Bile? Her own fuckin' puke? Didn't much matter. An OD's an OD. Body going rigid with grief, he pushed to his feet, shoulders hunching. --

-- talkin' to a damn corpse is gonna change this shit. {Breath coming in a ragged gasp, he flinched at his last memories of the beautiful girl. The gentle thump of her delicate fingers against his hip as they'd slept. Jarring awake as those fingers had dug in against --

-- looking like weird-ass vaginas. She'd looked so damn proud. Looked at /him/ like he was something. Not a piece of garbage, not like the rest. That's what he wanted to remember. Not the /other/ #Jane.} {quietly} Jane, I'm... I'm sorry. {huffing} Yeah, like --

-- G.O.N.E. How the hell was writing a letter to her gonna change how he was feeling? Closing his fist around the paper, head dropping as it crumped, he pushed his thoughts to the last time he'd seen #Jane smile. The gallery, maybe? Yeah... Those dumbass paintings --

Yo, Jane... {Looking down at the scrap of paper in his shaking hand, eyes red rimmed, he let out a sigh, feeling more and more like a dumbass. What the hell was Mister White thinking? Like scribbles on a damn sheet was gonna make a difference. Jane was gone. --

~ #BreakingDead ~

@SurrenderMyHart Yo, you belong there... {Smiling, a tinge of worry in his eyes, he ducked his head, trying to mask it.} Be careful. A geek comes at you growlin', you put 'em down, got it?

@BoondockBaby You're welcome Ma. {nodding} Ain't like Mister White's gonna be the Welcome Wagon. One of us has gotta have manners, you know?