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Oct 6, 2015 15:04:52 GMT -5
Post by brad bradford ★ d5b [arx] on Oct 6, 2015 15:04:52 GMT -5
Sadie Travers-Holliday
district 8 - seventeen - born & bred to kill
It appears I have a mess to clean up. Unfortunate I couldn't have done the dirtying myself, but who can have it all in District 8? Daddy sure couldn't. The old abandoned fun house we live in sure proves as much. We can't even afford to live in a real house. Tragic, really. But who am I to complain?
Daddy lie face down across the table, an empty bottle of liquor dangling in his grasp. Cute. I skirt around him to the refrigerator. I'm greeted by an assortment of fresh cut limbs; Daddy must have enjoyed himself. I sigh and shut the refrigerator. How typical of him to not invite me to the party. I was always his "baby girl" back when I was first learning the art of slicing and dicing --- now he didn't even want to share?! Now that was just poor manners.
I kick the bottle out of his hand and he startles awake. He blinks in the light for a moment then curses. "Fuck's sake, Sadie bug," he growls, not even bothering to roll off the table. "Can't ya see I'm napping, darling?"
He turns away from me, not bothering to get up, and resumes snoring in a matter of seconds. Fine. I was perfectly okay with fetching a dead body and not sharing. It wouldn't be as fun as the kill he made last night, but it would still do.
I turn back to the refrigerator and grab the Kevin's Liver soup I made a few days ago and throw the pot over the burner. A gift from me to the girl with the corpse sitting in her living room. It was a fair exchange really, human soup for a human body. As the soup heats and the smell begins to permeate through the kitchen, my Dad begins to toss.
"Whatcha cookin' sweetie?" I ignore him, take a deep whiff of Kevin soup, and cap the pot. I shut the flame off on the stove and scoop up the pot, ignoring the slow burn moving through my hands.
"Not for you," I say, dancing around him where he struggles to roll off the table. "If you don't share, why should I?" I smile in his direction then disappear through the doorway. He shouts after me ("Oh, come on, I can get you one tonight!") but his offers of new flesh fall on deaf ears. I've already got one all to myself. I found it, it's mine. That seemed to be the rule around my house anymore. Not so tragic, really.
It's a short walk from home to my destination. Just a few skips up the front steps, a smile, and one simple knock, knock and ---
"I hear you've got a body," I say. "And I don't just mean that dead one in your living room."
Daddy lie face down across the table, an empty bottle of liquor dangling in his grasp. Cute. I skirt around him to the refrigerator. I'm greeted by an assortment of fresh cut limbs; Daddy must have enjoyed himself. I sigh and shut the refrigerator. How typical of him to not invite me to the party. I was always his "baby girl" back when I was first learning the art of slicing and dicing --- now he didn't even want to share?! Now that was just poor manners.
I kick the bottle out of his hand and he startles awake. He blinks in the light for a moment then curses. "Fuck's sake, Sadie bug," he growls, not even bothering to roll off the table. "Can't ya see I'm napping, darling?"
He turns away from me, not bothering to get up, and resumes snoring in a matter of seconds. Fine. I was perfectly okay with fetching a dead body and not sharing. It wouldn't be as fun as the kill he made last night, but it would still do.
I turn back to the refrigerator and grab the Kevin's Liver soup I made a few days ago and throw the pot over the burner. A gift from me to the girl with the corpse sitting in her living room. It was a fair exchange really, human soup for a human body. As the soup heats and the smell begins to permeate through the kitchen, my Dad begins to toss.
"Whatcha cookin' sweetie?" I ignore him, take a deep whiff of Kevin soup, and cap the pot. I shut the flame off on the stove and scoop up the pot, ignoring the slow burn moving through my hands.
"Not for you," I say, dancing around him where he struggles to roll off the table. "If you don't share, why should I?" I smile in his direction then disappear through the doorway. He shouts after me ("Oh, come on, I can get you one tonight!") but his offers of new flesh fall on deaf ears. I've already got one all to myself. I found it, it's mine. That seemed to be the rule around my house anymore. Not so tragic, really.
It's a short walk from home to my destination. Just a few skips up the front steps, a smile, and one simple knock, knock and ---
"I hear you've got a body," I say. "And I don't just mean that dead one in your living room."
