✖ anxiety attack: 005 ✖

[wolfishsurvivalist]

[A. 339 Brady Lane]

[The sound of shattering glass is loud in the kitchen, the milk bottle having slipped out of Mika's hands. Sweat forms on her brow, her pupils dilating, and the trembling starts just as she begins to scream.

The walls have gone moldy and stained, the glass fogged with filth and grime, and the milk and glass on the floor is now blood and flesh. Disembodied sounds echoing through a haunted apartment that seems to watch her. Shadows flutter at the corner of her vision, grasping hands reaching for her to drag her down and tear her apart. Something was moving, its heavy footfalls made the floorboards creak in the floor above her and its loud, wet breathing makes it sound as if it was coming for her.

The whole building--no, the town itself--knew where she was.

It was coming for her. This time it was going to kill her for good. Her screams were muffled by the heavy air, but she doesn't care, she needs to escape it somehow even if she has to fight her way out.]

LEAVE ME ALONE!

[B. Phone]

[She's sobbing uncontrollably as she grips the phone so hard the receiver is creaking, she's desperate to talk to someone even if all she can hear is static. She should have known better but she's going to leave a message anyway.]

Oh God, somebody please pick up! This apartment is full of hauntings and I can't find anybody. It's just them! They're everywhere! They can hear me breathe and they know where I am, I tried to find the others but I don't have any red tape and there's blood all over the place and I don't know where to go.

Somebody, please!

[Welcome to the crazy, Mayfield. Someone got the Special Milk.]

[C. Streets: Afternoon]

[Mika has escaped the confines of the house, a roll of duct tape in one hand and a lead pipe in the other. She's shaking like a leaf, but her grip on the pipe is white-knuckled and possibly deadly if provoked.]

[D. Park: Evening]

[Curled up beneath a tree with her knees hugged to her chest, Mika is rocking gently as she cries into her knees. Her arms are scraped up and her knees are bleeding, and there's leaves and grass in her hair and clothes. It's been a very long day and the effect of the milk is starting to wear off, but not enough for her to feel safe. Someone come rescue her?]

Comments

[notlikethemovie.livejournal.com]

But it's not possible...

[She ducks her head, rocking like she's trying to console herself.]

It doesn't work that way...

[bitemescumbag.livejournal.com]

It works how ya make it work... Not gonna give you some crappy line like, "believing in something will make it happen" -- just gonna say, I managed to pull some crazy stuff folks told me was "impossible" just by bein' my usual stubborn self...

[Like surviving as long as he has today with the severe internal lacerations he's got. Pretty astounding, really.]

[notlikethemovie.livejournal.com]

"Work hard and you can make anything happen" is great and all, but what do you do if it doesn't work? What happens if you're wrong and trying hard only makes it worse or gets somebody killed? What if it's all wrong? What if it can't be fixed?

[From where she's sitting it's a sensible argument, one not easily defended against the shounen hero logic. Yet it's the only thread of logic that keeps her from feeling like she's failed everything as the blood drips down the tree bark and congeals in the grass around her.]

[bitemescumbag.livejournal.com]

We're stuck in a place where everything's screwed to begin with, lady. Not much about Mayfield ain't 'wrong'.

[There's a long pause, and something about his tone makes it sound like Mika hit a nerve.] ...But, if I'm gonna be honest? If I screwed up? Then I screwed up. It'd be something I'd would have to deal with.

Iiiiii thought I posted this already. 8|;;;;

[notlikethemovie.livejournal.com]

Everything's wrong. It's all rotted out inside, and it's all useless.

[She stares at her hands, at the clotting blood beneath her claws and her bruising skin, staring at the way her small scrapes seem to be rotting around the edges.]

Yeah...you're right. If everything goes wrong, it's not like anyone could stop it. No one would care anyway unless it bothered them. No one would notice.

[Not if she was gone, no. Things would be better if she wasn't always screwing them up, it must be true.]

[bitemescumbag.livejournal.com]

People're concerned with their own problems. Sucks, but that's how it goes.

[Like you aren't noticing the person bleeding to death over here gawd what kind of medical professional are you...]

Ain't useless though. If it's something you can do, it's worth doing. ...Unless you don't feel like it, anyway. Ha.

[notlikethemovie.livejournal.com]

I guess so, no one wants to hear about it so no one ever bothers to ask.

[YURI IN HER MIND EVERYTHING IS BLEEDING RIGHT NOW. She would not be able to tell if he was bleeding or if she is just freaking out like she's been doing all day.

He should be thankful she didn't panic and start swinging at him with her lead pipe.]

But there isn't anything I can do...

bluh bluh, huge lateness

[bitemescumbag.livejournal.com]

[...Yes. Yes we are glad for no concussions. Thank you.]

Meh. Town's goin' crazy for a while again. Ain't much we can do but ride it out.

[A beat. A thoughtful hum.] Well, could try to jack Lucy Smith in the face. Dunno if that'd help though...

bluh! it happens

[notlikethemovie.livejournal.com]

[You're welcome.]

I just wish it would stop.

[She sniffles a little before glancing back at him.]

Who?

[bitemescumbag.livejournal.com]

S'posedly the scumbag in charge. Disguises himself as a little girl 'cuz he's one hell of a creep-show; lookin' like a little kid is the icing on the cake. Everyone was talkin' 'bout it a while back.

[He shrugs.]