karella "taser" grifon {d6} done

ᴥ Head RP Tutor 4,545 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 18, 2024 16:28:25 GMT -5 oof	karella "taser" grifon {d6} done Aug 12, 2014 0:08:42 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ᴥ on Aug 12, 2014 0:08:42 GMT -5
	Last Edit: Apr 19, 2015 1:09:02 GMT -5 by ᴥ the m o o n controls the t i d e, it could cause you to d r o w n

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karella "taser" grifon {d6} done Aug 12, 2014 0:41:27 GMT -5

Quote

Post by ᴥ on Aug 12, 2014 0:41:27 GMT -5

[presto]

B O R N - T O - R A G E

T A ϟ E R

[/presto]

KARELLA GRIFON | SEVENTEEN | DISTRICT SIX

It hurts a bit. A deep throbbing within my temple as I lay in a limbo between consciousness and sleep. The heat forces its way into my skin, the right side of my face is melting, unseen hands throwing me against the wall. My head is thrown backwards and I can taste a thick smog in the air. The last thing I hear is a high pitched squealing before giving into the black seeping into my mind. I visit this moment nearly every night now. I can hear her screams, see wisps of burning blonde locks as, like a coward, I flee. She's begging for my help now, insisting she could make it if i just gave her my hand. But I'm so scared. The flames were bound to meet the gas floating stagnant within the air. What was the point in both of us perishing in the disaster that was bound to follow?

Isabel telling me she hates me is one of the lasts things I'll ever hear well.

The explosion rendered me completely deaf in one ear, the only chance of repairing it a surgery I'll never be able to afford. Isabel survived the initial explosion, they tell me her death was slow and painful, the burns reached down to her bones. She had tried to crawl towards the exit before her body gave in to the pain. She was announced dead upon arrival at the hospital. She'll never forgive me for running; Isabel was always the romantic type. Thought you should face death with open arms, that she'd never abandon me had our roles been reversed. Whether this is true, I guess I'll never know.

The sheets are bunched within my fists by the time I'm brought back to reality. My body is covered in icy sweat, legs curled around the stark white blankets as my heart rates slows to a gentle thrum. The howling that had awoken me came from outside. Children wreaking havoc on streets they thought they owned. I'd smile if they weren't so fucking annoying.

There was no point attempting to coax myself back to sleep. I was on edge, the very hairs of my neck standing like spines against my skin. This always happened nights I returned to that lab, and so sleep was little more than a luxury now. Nonetheless I return to my bed, back resting against the wooden headboard as I bring my knees to my chest. My life had gone to shit ever since the accident. Both depression and anxiety bringing me to my knees, while my treatment brought my parents into crippling debt. The right side of my face had been destroyed by the initial blast, burns leaving severe tissue damage and exposure brought with it high chance of infection. So, they took out loans, they worked two jobs and they sold our house, all to repair me. And while all that is left of the explosion are slight bumps reaching from my chin to my cheek, there was no chance they'd be able to repair my hearing as well. We weren't well off to begin with, but after I'd recovered we were damn near homeless.

Being responsible for their suffering was far too much for me. Guilt forced me out of school and into the sick embrace of substance. I didn't start small, didn't allow myself to be coaxed into addiction. Heroin, Meth, Crack; they were my poisons almost instantly. The track marks still mar my arms, and parts of my neck. ~~As my arms became too scarred to properly distribute the drugs.~~ I cannot tell you how long I was an addict. The days have meshed together in a haze of desperation and pleasure. Depending on another was something I've despised; often rebelling against my parents despite their attempts to do what's best for me. I suppose my face had become a familiar one in the community, my violent outbursts and abrupt nature creating a reputation for one Karella Grifon.

They approached me at perhaps the darkest time of my life. Offered me countless bills and riches if I agreed to do their bidding. I'll never regret agreeing to their terms.

A small black cell phone is stashed underneath my pillow. It will be discarded at the end of this week, thrown into a trash can on the opposite end of District Six. My superiors will be made aware of my new number and I will manage to stay as far off the radar as I can. The best murderer is one you cannot tell from your best friend, you sister or your lover. Killing is perhaps the easiest part of my profession. The politics laced within the Cartel are more complex than that of the Capitol ~~and about as equally fucked.~~

I've not touched my poisons in a very long time. The moment I became more than a junky on the street, when I became the boss of those lowlifes, the drugs held no allure to me. I had a new addiction, one much more potent and easier to obtain.

The withdrawals were painstaking. I spent nearly three nights curled upon a tile floor floating in and out of consciousness as my body convulsed and seized. Months of daily use had left me incapable of normal function without them. I ate nothing, drank only warm water from a rusted faucet. In the end, I survived. I awoke, naked and covered in my own sick, but I awoke nonetheless. And while I wanted nothing more than to inject myself full of happiness, I haven't touched a needle since.

The first time is always the hardest. That's what they told me the first time I was told to act as a Reaper and take the life of one who didn't deserve it. It was easier than they'd made it out to be. He knew why I was there, while he expressed surprise they'd send a "cunt" to take him out, the junkie didn't deny his guilt.

"Where's ya gun girly?" He'd spat, brandishing a taser in front of him as I advanced. I remember wincing at the thought, the ear-shattering scream of the gun would send me into a panic. My lungs would close, my hands would shake. Immediately, I would return to that damned room and feel the heat sear into my flesh once again. Only Mantis has witnessed one of these episodes, and I will do anything to keep it that way.

"I don't use them." I didn't smile, there was no cruelty or excitement in my voice, nothing but an apathy I didn't have to fake. Inside of the old trench coat I'd decided upon that morning, I revealed the wire chord.

"You really think tha-" His last words were never completed. Sentiment has always been lost on me, the man was as good as dead and there was no longer a point in keeping him alive. I wanted- needed to get this over with. For my already broken sanity as well as safety. While the taser was nonlethal, I doubted electrocution was a very comfortable experience. Thick leather gloves kept the wire from digging into my palms as I pulled it taught around his throat. The flesh wielded like sand, thick crimson escaping him in waves with each breath he took.

I'd cut halfway into his trachea before he died, a look of confusion and fright frozen in his eyes.

I took the taser from his cooling hands and didn't look back.

we are all living in a dream

Last Edit: Apr 19, 2015 1:19:38 GMT -5 by ᴥ

the m o o n controls the t i d e, it could cause you to d r o w n

ᴥ Head RP Tutor 4,545 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 18, 2024 16:28:25 GMT -5 oof	karella "taser" grifon {d6} done Aug 17, 2014 1:02:34 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ᴥ on Aug 17, 2014 1:02:34 GMT -5 done~ python has dibs tho
	the m o o n controls the t i d e, it could cause you to d r o w n

Python Head Librarian 4,515 POSTS Pronouns: She/Her last seen Apr 17, 2024 23:53:55 GMT -5	karella "taser" grifon {d6} done Aug 17, 2014 1:56:58 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Python on Aug 17, 2014 1:56:58 GMT -5 I LOVE HER ACCEPTED!