Miss Yourself

I'd Let the World Burn (Part 2)

They say that sometimes it has to be painful. That you have to go through the darkness to find the light. Eternal Chaos creates eternal harmony. You can't appreciate the good until the bad has taken from you. 

3rd person POV:

"Don't... no... Don't do this please." Her tears streak down her face as she continues to scoot herself up against the wall. When she's reached it, however, it's a dead end.

Tara Jones has no where to run.

The rain pours outside and the lights all beck and flicker. She's looking up at her attacker. Here, on this night, her life is in the sharp glisten of the ax head he's holding. Here, on the second floor of the house and at the very end of the corridor her moment has come. 

Blood is splattered on the wall to her left. Fingernails dig into the carpet. She's weeping. 

He's reached the top of the stairs. There's a glimmer in his smile. He looks down upon the place where her ankle barely hangs off of her shin. A foot, dying from lack of blood flow as it's been dragged along the stretch since he'd first attacked her in the kitchen downstairs. 

It's late. She's tired. Perhaps... with him nearing in on her... this is where it ends for Tara. 

Seven hours earlier...

Tori Spring shuffles along the shag rug carpet in her socks. There's a cup full of fresh water in her hands. She's clean from the working shower upstairs. 

"Tori, come off it. You've got to play. It's been such a stressful week." Says Issac.

The four of them are already down on the floor; Issac setting up the cards, Tara biting into a stale pretzel stick, and the two boys Tori remembers not so fondly tormenting Charlie (her younger brother) for the last three years sipping wine from souvenir cups and passing a roll-up full of freshly ground cannabis around the table. 

They clink there cups like they're kings in medieval times. Tara says something snarky about the guy who brought them here who's retired upstairs for some much needed sleep making everyone but Tori laugh. All Tori can think about are all the people back at the camp-site with very little while they're here acting like it's a vacation. 

"I'd rather not." She says. 

Issac looks up at her fondly, "I am one of your brothers best friends... I know him almost as much as you do. I know you're worried but if he is out there you're not going to find him by pretending you're not still alive. Get down here."

She rolls her eyes but does so. She's on the floor next to him, her sweater hanging over her thighs and the leggings she's got on are also made of a soft material. It's comfortable. Then so, she lets them deal her in. 

A few rounds in, after bulbous laughter from the rest of them over silly profanities or unfortunate banter circulating around perversions, inappropriate commentary, things no one should say in civil conversation, and the occasional laugh from her Tori ends up with nine black cards to everyone else's three or less.

She's run out of good cards and it's Harry's turn. Harry, this arrogant boy who doesn't understand his own handwriting to that of typed out and printed words. A young man who's been known the F- slur and has no respect from Tori what-so-ever drops a black card Tori barely understands and she throws out a trash card. 

Flying Sex Snakes.

 Was her response. It's not even something that makes sense but Harry and Ben have had enough wine to find something about it funny. Then conversation breaks out across the table as cards are slowly forgotten about.