west coast ☆ joji miller

12 ; blur

i sat tense, my back straight and my posture spot-on. i didn't want to relax, and i didn't want to be here.

i was uncomfortably sat on joji's dark couch, with joji and ian both sitting in separate chairs, their eyes on me. my hands were zip-tied and i found myself staring back to joji. if satan had a distinct eye color i'm sure it would be similar to joji's.

i didn't want to look to ian. his unfamiliar being made me almost fearful and timid.

"why am i here?" my voice broke, making it sound weak and vulnerable as hell.

they both shared a look, determination scribbled upon their faces.

"venus, dear," joji starts, "this man will look after you until we know what to do with you."

no. fuck no.

"no. no, please!" venus begs, "why the fuck am i here? i- oh, my mother is sick. she's... is my mom okay?"

joji gave me a sympathetic look, and the ian man spoke up for him;
"we had to kill her, dear."

my face changed into horror and i let out a bloody-murder scream, tears immediately pouring from my eyes.

i struggled as ian and joji gripped onto my arms, their finger's leaving bruised prints and their nails leaving bloodied nicks.

everything was a blur.