𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘
- 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙘
❛ she smiles like a child with flowers
in her hair, with blood on her hands
into the sun she stares ❜
- 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇, the...
Now, Presley Smith is not really suicidal — not really, at least. No matter what Glenn thought he saw, it wasn't a suicidal girl.
In that forest, Presley had nothing to live for, and she certainly didn't want to be torn apart by undead humans. Glenn gave her something to live for, good for him. It would be great if everyone just let that be the end of it, but they didn't. She was more of a Black Sheep than the Dixon brothers were, and that was bitter-sweet. Like, Presley didn't really like these people anyways, but being respected less than the two loud mouthed, racist, sexist rednecks? That hurt her ego a bit.
She was basically an adult, they could maybe try and treat her like one and not like a bomb that was gonna go off at any moment.
Which — okay, maybe she was. Before the world went boom, she'd been working on her shitty anger management skills. But to her credit, she was trying to use the skills she learned from those sessions in the middle of Old Man Dale's R.V. trying to cool off so she didn't use some choice words on an eleven year old.
But the next time that little kid collides into her because he's playing "tag", and sends her ass to the mud, she's gonna kill him. And no amount of "sorry's" from Billie Brightside is gonna change that.
You'd think she'd have more stability, but with a bunk knee that never got the right treatment, her few strolls around the tree line would 5 times out of 10 end with her in a pile of dirt muddied by the rain bursts that had attacked them that month.
With a tiny announcing knock, Presley bitterly glanced up from where she sat at the booth. Dale Horvath stood in the doorway of the R.V. with a pile of folded clothes in his hand.
"Billie was happy to lend you some clothes again." The man gave her a small smile as he placed her clothes on the counter.
"Yeah, I bet."
Billie Brightside was always happy to do anything and everything all the time forever. And at that moment? Presley wouldn't admit it, but she was happy for the girl's willingness to be nice to someone who she'd spoken to twice.
At this point, Presley had more of Billie's clothes than Billie did.
Dale held his hat in his hand as he ran his other through his thinning white hair. Dale had a stupid hat. So did Glenn, but Dale's really excelled at being stupid. Really put his whole Widower Fisher look together.
"Carl feel's bad, I think he wanted to make you a card." The man sighed, "This is the, what, second time this has happened?"
"Third." Presley muttered, "Billie is running out of clothes to lend me. Don't know how she was so prepared for the end of the world to have fifteen outfits on standby but . . ."
