let me drive my van into you heart [laurence, day 1]

I'm not going back empty handed. I refuse. Because I could see them, standing there, all of them like some strange fucking gods standing in the glow of a fire that was already sending an acrid bloom of smoke into the sky. And every step I took closer got heavier and heavier until I wasn't running toward it anymore at all.

Because I'm not going back empty handed. Not when I saw Liza there. And you know what's crazy? I think she did it all on her own. And I think she got some better assets along the way. You know, one's with recognizable last names and better private training session scores. One's who know how to swing swords and throw javelins and shoot arrows with their big muscles and perfect smiles and they swing their axes.

I don't know. I don't know why I always gotta prove something.

It's a garage. Old and worn down, dangerous even without it being perfectly crafted to kill idiot children dumb enough to barge inside without looking or checking anything first.

Which is exactly what I do.

And like the foolhardy farm boy I am, I start looking for something with an engine. Something I can steal. Something big and bold and proof enough that I'm here to fucking win. That I'm good enough.

Good.

Yeah.

The whole place smells like a tetanus shot waiting to happen. And I try my hardest to be careful around the jagged pieces of sheet metal as I make my way toward what really just must be-

"Come on, then," I mumble under my breath, lips curling up at the corners despite myself.

And I tear back the dusted tarp and pray for something I can make work.

"destroy yourself, it feels so good to fade away."