poleaxe: (i hate to be the bearer of bad news)
jone of denerim. ([personal profile] poleaxe) wrote in [community profile] what_wings_dare 2017-04-03 03:03 am (UTC)

"I didn't find it," she says. "I put it there."

She's never showed anybody this, but by the time it was there, there was nobody to show. She thought she'd stick by the area, haunt the place or something grandiose like that, sleeping in the house and biding her time until she ran out of food. Once she decided to move on, this fucker stopped her.

Maybe it's a sign. God is trying to tell her something. She did a terrible thing, and when she tried to leave it, something keeps stopping her. Maybe it's meaningful.

Maybe it's not, and she'll die stupid in the woods. That works, too.

The little shack they were staying in is up ahead. It's a beaten up thing, and there are still a few cars sitting in front of it, all missing tires and engines and spare parts. The shack still has their sleeping bags in it. Most importantly, it still has the little twin mounds at the back of it.

Joan gives it a wide berth, standing on the outskirts. "You're not a complete idiot," she says. "We were staying here." She was going back to it, she realizes, going back out of blind habit before this asshole stopped her. Stopped her again. God, she's a fucking idiot sometimes.

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