Holy Timothy
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Publikasi terakhir Min, Jul 13, 2014
The first time Mary laid eyes on Tim, he was a babbling 6-year old with smudges of chocolate on his cheek. He had smiled at her, and had called her the 'pwettiest lady in the whole wold'.
The last time Mary saw him, he was a Father Timothy. Dressed in white and purple robes, he was brandishing a cross while methodically sprinkling holy water at her writhing body.
Had Mary known little Tim would one day tie her up, drag her to church, and exorcise the life out of her, she probably wouldn't have bothered saving his little ass that day at the train station.
Had she also known that little Tim would one day bring her lost humanity back torturously, she would have readily taken his place at the train tracks for a quick and painless death.
But Mary didn't know these things, so she saved little Tim – the foul Monster of the night swooping down to save God's holy little Angel.
But, as with all things too opposite...
...the foul and the holy was just never going to work. Not together. Not apart. Not ever.
Note to self: Vampire goal.
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