Mechanical Romance [GTA 3]

Teardrop

Warning: Death, Mentioned Domestic Abuse, Possibly Angst, Cringe,
~~~
3:09 PM

Lost in thought, Sparrow resting on her lover's thighs, blankly staring into nothingness, she was calmed by his breathing, the lack of noise in the small lot, no cars, no white noise, not even a fan... Just the sound of her partner's breathing, his fingers running through her scalp.

The woman was almost driven to sleep, him feeling for her soft coils, how his fingers were stuck so far deep in her locks. He didn't bother pulling them out, she's pretty tender-headed, and by the lack of dialogue in this case. She's spacing out.

Normally, she can handle her own business. He doesn't want to push her so hard, she's not very used to being approached that way. Claude wasn't very bothered when he heard Sparrow's confession. It was murder. Confessing to murder.
He doesn't really care about that. He doesn't mind that his girlfriend killed someone... It actually makes things a bit easier for him.

Claude could give less of a fuck if his sweetheart is some murderer. Either by self-defense or impulse, he doesn't care. If he has any worries though, that would be her mental state. How she's holding up and caring for herself.

By mistake, he found hidden sheets of paper between the couches. The cabinets of the kitchen, the small "roach" spots in the bathroom, and the mysterious floorboard under her side of the bed. Pertaining poems, detailed images, and riddles. He felt silly trying to get Sparrow to talk about this. He didn't know what she'd do. He didn't know what he would do. The notes were all about suicide, and one of an actual attempt. The attempt was scarily close to when he had first met Sparrow. Both of her arms were scratched horribly. He wanted to punch something, just at the thought of it, but he can't. His hands are tied. From there Claude didn't break the peace in the room. He just hoped, he could be free soon and get his hands on something else.

~~~

It's been three months since mom died. Nobody knows what happened to her or where she went. Dad came back to tell me she was dead. I saw her about a week before her disappearance. He did too.

She was battered, beaten horribly, her eyes were swollen, she had lost three of her teeth, busted lip, and was surrounded by glass shards. I didn't do anything to get him off of her, I stayed in my bed all that time and cried. I recall her saying she accidentally sprayed him in the face, with air freshener. It's always an accident, she did it in self-defense. Every fourth Wednesday in a month, they would fight. He would get angry after she confronts him about something... After each fight, she would get mad with and say, "you don't love me".

I didn't know that was there. He's too big for me, hitting him offer the head with a guitar wouldn't hurt him, it'd hurt the guitar. Why am I thinking about this?

Last week my aunt called about my mother. She had my mother's case reopened, of course, she's dead but where's her body? Where was it?

I remembered seeing a gift box in my closet, just by my birthday. My dad watched me from the door, laughing as I threw down the lip of the brightly colored carrier and push my hand into the box. I was expecting something to bite me, I was too eager for a chance of getting rabies and being taken to the ER, which was every birthday unsupervised by my mother.

No. It wasn't that...

I still smell it too.

I peeked into the box, thinking, it's an actual gift. I felt this odd and thin leather under my palm, it crumpled, and there was a really rough... Set of fur, I thought. "Fuzzy Diary"? One of those baby pink ones with the hot pink stitched cursive in it. No.

It was her head.

Aimlessly reaching into the box, not knowing it was her head. I fainted and hit my head on the dresser on my way. Coming to, dad said it was a dream and that I wouldn't be needing my closet anymore. The police found her head in my bedroom, along with her corpse in the closet!!

I complained about smelling something weird in my room, I didn't know it would be a corpse. I assume it was a dead rodent. I wanted a dead rat in there, not her body. Rotting meat and earthy tones, like mud and dirt. Thirteen years, she's been in my closet... This sounds so taboo for a shitty horror movie, it sounds like it's been written by some dumbass.

Sparrow rolled over on her boyfriend's lap, his hand was plucked from her thick head of hair. She looked up at him with her single brown eye, batting her eyelashes cutely, while he rubbed her forehead, and poked her lips. Her cute eyelash batting ended, her eye was stopped up with tears, her face was reddening, and her eye patch was soaked?! She blinked the tears away and wiped her face, smiling. "Claude, your handsome, I'm crying..." She sniffed. Claude rolled his eyes, unsure whether to be flattered or worried. He was both...

He lifted her into his arms, crawling her tiny body like a ventriloquist and his dummy. Her head resting on his right shoulder, his left hand above her back, running up and down her neck and mid-back. The woman wrapped her around her partner, trying not to make her crying obvious. She knew he wasn't dumb, she just didn't want him to see her like this.

"Sorry. I had a little dream. I won't make you dance for it. Just text me you won't leave me alone for too long..."
The man slung his head over her shoulder and brought his lips to her ear. Pushing some hair out the way, he parts them, ready to say something. "Never..." His dry, and gravelly voice spoke. The tiny nerves on Sparrow's face tingled. She sniffed once more before wiping her face clean of the tear.

"Aww... I got too angsty. Sorry..."