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Jess Incognito

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  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. One post per week
  3. Slow As Molasses
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Modern Fiction, Sci-Fi & Fantasy, Historic/Period. I'm quite versatile and open. More prone to original content than fandoms, though base inspiration is welcome.
The world pounded and shook when she opened her eyes, but for all that there was no background music, only distant sounds. She felt as if she were underwater, ears so full of liquid that no sound got through quite clearly. Her skin burned her insides, or maybe her insides burned her skin. Suddenly light crossed the dark ceiling - a pattern of red and blue repeating, red and blue. Parts of the ceiling sagged and its paint cracked under heavy water damage. Just as she reached the conclusion of unfamiliarity, hearing slammed into gear. The sound of sirens, police sirens wailing, reached her and her eyes snapped in the direction of the window where the light forced its way through thin curtains.

If she wasn’t confused before, she froze then at the sight of the man next to her on the bed. First thoughts were she slept with him - and that wasn’t all too uncommon with Emily - but the rest of it didn’t add up. For one: they were both clothed, both on top of the sheets, and two: sleeping with someone wasn’t a crime that yanked the cops on your tail. She’d practically fallen from the bed with surprise, recovering herself and giving him a fixated stare as she backed away. Back hit the wall unexpectedly and she saw then the body on the floor. Legs stacked on one another to the side and torso twisted so he lay half on his back and half on his side, the eyes stared dead at the ceiling. The only sign of life was the red and blue dancing across his face and chest.

Emily took a step closer, and another, and another until she was standing over him. There was blood all over him and leaking out from under, staining the already dirtied carpet. Where it all came from was unclear. Her jaw clenched when she realized who he was. She wanted to scream, but shoved a knuckle in her mouth before any sound could burst forth, relishing only a small whimper. She stumbled back and felt her legs hit the frame of the bed before tipping over into the hard mattress.

She hadn’t seen Chris in at least a year, had wondered about him secretly, but only sparingly. Why did he show up now? Like this? Any kind of trouble seemed out of character for him. He was fun but not in this sort of way, not the ways that might get him killed. And that was why they weren’t together anymore, because she was bad for him. Maybe not crazy enough to get herself killed but not the same kind of nice as him. She’d never quite gotten the hang of controlling her life, not in good ways, and really, she’d done him a favor. A final kindness. But she knew he’d been hung up over it for a good chunk of time, or so said the friends of his who saw her around here or there, maybe a few of them were a bit hostile about it, even. Between those bouts she’d been enjoying freedoms of the single life. Since then she hadn’t heard anything new of him, thoughts of that boy she once dated only grazing the surface occasionally and with no real feeling behind it - whether it was filtered out or simply not there to begin with.
And now he was dead. Dead and she couldn’t believe it.

She didn’t have a handle on the situation, couldn’t calm her mind long enough to really stay on one thought long enough to figure it out. How did she get here? Some trashy motel room with peeling wallpaper. What was wrong with her? Most prominently: did she kill them? She looked to the man behind her on the bed, was he dead, too? She sat up and reached over, hesitant with her hand hovering over his chest, as thought questioning whether or not she really wanted to know the answer.

“H-Hey,” she started, voice not working, mouth not forming the word right. “Hey,” she repeated stronger, swallowing hard and shaking him a little. He didn’t respond at first. “Please don’t be dead, I didn’t do this. I couldn’t do this,” this time her words came fast and mangled, ridden with sobs that heaved her chest and hardened her stomach. She sucked in breaths, and let it out as slowly as she could in attempt to calm herself down. “Wake up!” she said loudly, but still as though any of the cops outside the window could possibly hear her over the sound of the sirens that seemed to drown out all other sounds to her. A tear started down her face as she continued. Wake up! Wake up!“ she shook him harder, as hard as she thought it might take to wake a dead man.
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