𝙎𝙢𝙤𝙠𝙚 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙇𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 - 𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙒𝘽𝙊𝙔 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

"𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺? 𝘥𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘰' '𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺, 𝘐'𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯', 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘭' 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦."

"𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵."

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴."

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They would ooze rumours of both you're name, placed with the utterly specific adjectives, 'deranged', 'psychotic', and simply 'sick'. That was what you were known for, context or not. It was a simple way of living, within the red-dirt town of Sandrange, with little entertainment and a harbour of saloon-goers in need of any form of entertainment, which made you a target whether you liked it or not. Although, not unfamiliar with the wording, it's both the eyes of their burning scowls and the words that spit like fire from their tongue's that become something you can never get used to.
So, you never left home. Cacooned in your home for weeks to months on end, all to hide from the town and the prejudice they willingly held, this torturous routine had only been broken by the two knocks on my door, and the call of the Sheriff requesting to come inside.
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