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Torn Pages [18+]

 
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Jessica Lucino
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 1:22 am    Post subject: Torn Pages [18+] Reply with quote

Bound in black leather and wrapped with red ties, a journal was littered with aged pages and bits of memories written down in brief moments of lucidity. Few entries were dated and almost every sheet was spotted with stains. It was a fitting homage to a woman who had scars etched into her skin, etched into her muscles, and etched into her mind.
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 1:23 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I don't really know just what happened, but I ran. And I ran until I showed up here. I don't even know why I've shown up on Uncle Vino's doorstep, maybe because he's here, so far away from everything else. Away from him, I can't face him now, or ever.

It started when Papa looked me over in the back of the church. For the first time in my life, ( and probably his ) he was speechless. I've never heard Papa not say anything, or even make a sound. He just stared at me in that dress. And I stared back, though I thought I was only doing it because he was quiet. Until I realized that my feet wouldn't move.
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Jessica Lucino
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 1:24 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Cash asked me once who would be there for me when I finally break down. Normally, I would say that it was a line that most use on chicks just to get them into the sack. Or maybe something used to get me to just open up further and let him inside, which I did. So I fell for it, and I don't really know why I did.

I think because as much as I try to hide it, persistence actually does wear me down. I can show stranger's faces to my walls and they most of the time just give up and say I'm not worth the trouble. Which really, I'm thankful for.

But Cash was persistent. And I'm not sure why. We didn't have sex but a few times, hell I wouldn't be surprised if he thought that I was a frigid b*tch in that department. Maybe he just wanted to prove (to himself maybe) that he could break me down to the pieces of the woman that were still left. To the end though, I felt like he wasn't so pleased with the pieces that I was breaking to. Could be that was why everything was dumped in a flash.

He was quick to point out that he didn't think that I had anyone though, except him and Nonno. Easily reminding myself of this, and it wasn't so hard to get over what we tried to have together. We weren't perfect together, and I know once he told me that we were. It just shows me how well he didn't ever know me.

I opened up to Tony faster than I did to him. Cash thought that I was completely alone in the world; he never bothered to realize that I actually have friends.



Friends, I like that word. And I hope that they don't mind me calling them that.
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 1:27 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

They're dead.

I don't even know how--- No wait, I do know how, but I can't believe it. It was just so...

Mauled. Ripped to shreds like crimson paper wrapping in the early Christmas morning, bile and blood smeared over their horror strung faces and their contorted bodies on the chilled concrete. Even I could feel the cold of death on them.

Mama's face will haunt me till the day I'm finally put into the ground, her mouth was not open, she was not screaming. The corners of her eyes were moist, she had cried the entire time. But not a single scream. Papa though, was reaching for one of her hands --- I can't get through this.

It was horrible, watching them die like that.
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 1:53 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I think I'm growing soft.

No, rather I know that I'm growing soft. I feel the jagged edges of my shoulders sloping down to a freshly exfoliated curve. The harshness in my voice is blending into just something that's more saucy than stern. I don't dare show my eyes because I'm positive they'd give away my fate. The pupils do some crazy stuff you know?

I know that people are starting to wonder. People who'll say they know me. And they do, to a point. At least to the point I'd ever let anyone know me. Soon they're going to ask why the change. What's causing it. Why are you being....nice Jessica? Are you actually trying to protect me? You care about something? Anything? A friend? You...have friends?

I've been able to keep away from emotions for so long, fighting the battle and been winning until he wandered in that diner again. I wonder if he knows that I've been avoiding him? I'm going to lose the battle completely. I know it. He'll stand in victory while I keep trying to hide my face because I won't want to admit it.

I was almost polite today. Social. And for the second time in twenty four hours, did something nice. For the same person. I helped. Once by being asked and once all on my own.
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Jessica Lucino
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 2:04 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

We're not the best matched pair. No breaking way of two peas in a pod here. Or the signs of opposites attracting, though I think he tries to claim it sometimes.

We're not the most romantic couple. He buys crystal covered razor blades for me and I threaten to leave more than scratches along his face. His skin is marred by memories of my touch, and mine is still flinching at his, only to relax seconds later.

I stalk him and he isn't even the wiser of it. Letting me trail him and leaving the door open to his soul just for me to find. If I could close it and lock me inside I just might.

His world is full of photo opts, press releases and long nights typing in front of a screen while sprawled over his couch. Mine is leaving little trace that I was ever there, clinging to staying as a shadow or just a smell in the night and wandering the streets to collect the last bits of peoples souls.

But he writes about my world. And I live it.

He knows that he's strong, but he doesn't admit it to me. I know that I'm weak, but I'll never admit it to him. The strings to his heart are tied to the fingers of a little girl. Mine are wrapped around an old man's.

No longer am I just crazy anymore. But I'm crazy about him.
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PostPosted: Wed Jul 02, 2014 4:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Zeke found me in the alley a few nights ago. I’m not even sure if I was released or I broke out even. I don’t know if I’m ready to snap, or who I killed even, if anyone. I don’t have any memory of what happened really prior to when he found me. I heard his voice calling me back and felt a tug on my dog tags.

Beyond that? I don’t know. Everything always just comes back in disjointed pieces if at all. I can never really tell what is reality or a memory. What was forced upon me or what I decided on my own to do.

He thought I was dead, or dying he said. Only managed to figure out that it wasn’t my blood all over me and my clothes after I got cleaned up some. Blood, gore and grime all spiraled down the drain and all that remained were a few bruises and fresh scars. And me, more or less. What pieces there are left.

Somewhere through the change of clothes and Chinese food I started to come around. Good thing is that Zeke didn’t really ask too many questions. Not sure what I could have told him anyway. But I can tell that he’s concerned. If only to be sure that I wasn’t about to go on a stabbing rampage throughout the city.

It kind of makes sense, right? That a smoke jumper like him would be the only one crazy or able to put out the fires that rage inside me. Guess it’s true what they say. We’d never leave one of our own behind.
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PostPosted: Tue Jul 29, 2014 7:20 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

He was hung up on a post down off one of the abandoned fishing piers at the docks. Crucified. Barely holding on with the smallest glimpse of life still within him while blood stained the water below him and hungry sea monsters gathered for a meal. The rope was fraying and…well I managed to find him in time before he dropped to his certain death.

They used power tools on him. Industrial heavy work sh*t. Stuff meant for high grade steel, to cut through concrete and pierce hardwood –it all cuts through flesh and bone as if it wasn’t even there in the first place. I’ve seen torture like this before; I know it was a taunt in my face in fact. I’ve never seen someone live through it though. $@&%$*# Russians.

He was delirious, but still alive. Smiled and called me Firespark.

It was like he had forgotten about the past twelve years. Like I said, he was out of his mind. Not surprising considering the amount of blood loss and everything he had been through. Makes the broken ribs that I had given him last week seem like a paper cut.

I dropped Roman off at the hospital, out front in the emergency vehicle lane. He’ll be upset when he wakes up there, but I could only do some work. Quick stitch work with what I had on me. The doctors there will take care of him.

More than I ever could at least.
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PostPosted: Wed Jul 30, 2014 2:58 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I woke up cold. Freezing even in a cold sweat. I don’t know what that $%#@&*%& injected into me; it’s already filtered its way into my bloodstream, into my organs. I’m trying to monitor what I can between blackouts, but I’ve already lost a couple of days since the injection. At least, that’s what I’m guessing based off the coloration of the bruises on my knuckles and wrists.

I considered trying to do a biopsy of my liver myself, to see if I could identify what it was, but no. I mean, that’s crazy right? Or is it crazier to wait and see what happens? To see what I end up doing? To see if it’s something that I can control?

Staying locked up in my lab sounds like a good idea.

And if I die in here, least I can claim that I didn’t kill anyone on my way out to the afterlife.

Unless I can enter the access code to open the doors when I’m ---
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PostPosted: Sun Aug 17, 2014 8:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Blood was **** just everywhere. But I don’t have a scratch on me. Or at least, I don’t have them on me anymore. Even with the missing five days now though (provided that I’ve calculated correctly and the radio is saying its Thursday), that’s too fast for me to have healed normally.

My temperature is back to normal though. Normal for me at least. The bruises are gone.

I don’t know what happened, but it seems as though whatever it was has worked through my system. It’s a working hypothesis, but I feel more lucid. Not expecting any more immediate blackouts at least. Which I can only barely manage to label that as comforting. Not anticipating one right away should allow me to clean up this mess.

Unsure about the access codes, but that’s more due to the fact that the entire glass wall was shattered and smashed. Bullet proof isn’t enough. I’ll have to upgrade.

I’d make a joke here about how I should just be called Ms. Hyde now, but at least it was Dr. Jekyll who was doing it to himself. My Dr. Jekyll walks around with a cane.
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PostPosted: Wed Nov 05, 2014 11:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

It’s strange to think that even I’ve been through my fair share of lovers in this messed up town. As much as I constantly try to push everyone back and away from me, there’s always the crazy few that dare to try to get close.

Cash, Frank, Dante –Hell, even Roman tried to chase me to get me to go back to him. At some point, I loved each of them. As best as I could I guess. All four of them tried to change me. A couple of them even succeeded –for better or worse depending on how you look at it.

But Michael?

No.

People say he’s crazy, hell he probably believes it himself. But he’s not. Not to me.

It’s the first time where a man has loved all of me and hasn’t made any attempt to change me, to "fix" me. He simply accepts me for what I am, whether that’s good or bad. He hasn’t said that, but I see it in his eyes.

How long will I stay with him because of that?

Till the casket drops Michael.

If you ever read this, I’m in it till the casket drops.
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PostPosted: Mon Mar 23, 2015 11:45 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

When you beat and starve a person, when you break them open and see what lays inside –That’s how you learn what they really are. Not everyone screams. Not everyone cries. When they are quiet, they may know how to transcend pain. But that just means they were prepared. They were expecting pain. That’s not breaking them.

Some people like the screams. Get off on them. But no, it’s too easy. There’s still light and anger and pain in their eyes then.

When the eyes are vacant and empty, when the screams have been exhausted and they are silent –That’s when you’ve broken someone. It’s at that point when you have real power over them. You can either finally kill them, or mold them into what you want.

I should know. I break people.

But first I was broken.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 9:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Some days it seems as though the lily grows, blossoms and blooms underneath the incandescent light. I know that’s not really true since it’s made of glass and not alive. It seemed like such a strange and unexpected gift once. I know more than a few were surprised by it, questioning why a quiet drunk would give a grunting drug dealer such a thing.

I’m hardly virginal and pure. Not sweet or a refined type of beauty. Not innocent or demure. White is not a color that many would associate with me.

Hand blown glass, high artisanal work. If you hold the stem carefully and twirl it just so…

I can almost smell it, it looks so real.

People questioned why he would give me anything and what we were to each other. Not family. Not lovers or soul mates. Just friends?

It wasn’t a gift to subdue me. It wasn’t a peace offering or an attempt to buy my affection. Why not the heart of an ogre or head of a troll?

No, Desmond knew that I was still fond of simple things. And that the only flower fitting for me is one that belongs at a funeral.
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PostPosted: Mon May 04, 2015 12:37 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hate and rage, wrath and that deep seated anger overflows and boils over, leaks out of my fingertips and shoots out my mouth in unnatural sounds. It’s the kind of emotion that spreads through your muscles and sinks into your bones and mixes through the marrow. It’s etched into my core and there is no cure.

Everything disgusts me.

They repulse me to the point of thinking that I taste the bile in my mouth, it’s already bubbled up from my throat. If I spit it out and onto them, would it burn them and eat through their skin like acid? ---The things I dream.

I just want to watch the entire world burn.
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PostPosted: Sun May 17, 2015 10:45 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I’ve been asked why I do it. Why I prowl through the night’s streets and tightly knit alleyways of the city. Why I find more peace and solace among the grim cobblestones between crumbling buildings and rusted iron bars.

To which I respond with:

You ever watch someone tie off their arm, teeth holding the end of the rubber wrapped around their arm, syringe in hand and injection slowly made? Waiting for that sweet blissful rush to kick in and take over? And then the warm sense of relaxation and security; the idea of protection; the dissipation of all fear, hunger, and anxiety sweeps over them. Nearly orgasmic the feeling is so ****ing intense. Their anger and frustration simply fading away like magic. Like a miracle. A ****ing miracle worker. That's what I am.

A miracle worker, but no saint.

Because when I can tell that their money runs dry? I give them one last free score. I was told once it was bad for business to kill off your clients. But they’re like cockroaches here. There will always be more.

And they know where to find me.

Just follow your nose.

( Cross posted from Broken Parts, Missing Pieces Prompt thread )
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PostPosted: Thu Aug 11, 2016 10:04 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Someone left me a present.

Maybe it was an offering? A token olive branch to subdue the savagery that I’m so well known for. A bribe to buy their safety should and when they cross my path. A gift to sooth the beast if I were to raise my head and take notice of them.

Foolish ****s. I’m not a goddess to pay homage to.

Opening up presents was always my favorite part though. Tearing open the wrapping to look at what was inside, even if the contents weren’t a surprise.

The rip of paper or flesh. It's all the same to me.
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 06, 2017 8:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Bear told me that we have a daughter. Rather, some form of us in a different dimension met and had a daughter. Instead of shoving his testicles far up enough to go through his nostrils and removing them, I agreed to meet her.

I don’t know why though.

I shouldn’t meet her.

I’m not whoever or whatever her actual mother was. If he wants to pretend that he’s her father, that’s his business. I can’t be a mother.

I destroy families. I don’t create them.

But maybe….

Maybe it would still be okay to look at her from a distance. Make sure that she’s safe from things like me.
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