Post by MasterEvil on Oct 7, 2017 4:41:11 GMT
act 1
act 2
“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word…”
Mumbles out my lips as my almost lifeless body groggily stirs awake. From the cold floor I sluggishly raise myself up in a room only dully lit by the sunlight coming through the Nintendo curtains as I stroll over to a table to pick up a cuddly robin, the type my little girl enjoys playing with.
“Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird won’t sing…”
I slowly lower the toy bird down onto the desk and pick up a diamond framed picture of Sarah in her flower girl dress.
“Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…and if that diamond ring turns brass, mama’s gonna buy you a looking glass…”
My eyes slowly drift away toward the old scars on inside of both my forearms. My left hand moves away from the frame and slowly stroke over my wrist, the texture still as easy to feel as the day I put them there.
“And if that looking glass gets broke, Mama’s gonna buy you a billy goat. And if that billy goat won’t pull, Mama’s gonna buy you a cart and bull…”
My other hand lowers the frame back down as I continue tracing the permanent marks before spotting the personal alarm I gave my baby girl a couple months ago. Finally moving my hand away from my scars to trace the outline of the alarm.
“And if that cart and bull turn over, Mama’s gonna buy you a dog named Rover…and if that dog named Rover won’t bark…”
Spotting a cuddly horse, the thing I got Sarah for her first birthday, laying on its side.
“Mama’s gonna buy you a horse and cart…”
I step over towards the cuddly pony, stand it back up on its feet and stroke the head of the inanimate object. Once doing this I pull out a small picture of me holding my little girl for the very first time as I turn to walk over towards the bed inside this room.
“And if that horse and cart fall down…”
I stop when I was by the bottom of the bed…the empty Pikachu sheets looking cold but nowhere near as cold as the air feels around me as I struggle to take a breath.
“You’ll still be the sweetest little baby in t-”
I fall to my knees and a loud cry throws itself out from as the next moment my already soaking face smacks against the bed, said sheets feeling soaked within moments, and my left hand moves to start clawing, scratching and tearing at my scars.
“BAD MUM, BAD MUM, BAD MUM!!!”
I repeatedly cry out as I keep attacking myself. It is my fault my baby is gone! I don’t deserve Sarah at all! What if Maggie’s right about Sarah being better off in foster care? That is most likely true as I feel the floor by my knees getting wet.
“MEGAN!”
Before my brain could identify that voice I can feel Shannon tackling me down to the ground and engulfing me in her chest and arms into a hug, making extra sure that my arms are nowhere near each other while doing so.
“Sarah is gone. It is all my faul-”
“No it is not Meggy. Please not beating yourself up over this. We will find Sarah, but we can’t when you’re like this. Please calm down dear.”
“B-But Sara-”
“That Cheyenne girl will definitely pay when we find her. But for now we need you to calm down baby.”
Shannon whispers directly into my ear as she starts to rock me back and forth. Finally giving into my emotions I begin to sob more loudly as I bury my crying face deep into her chest.
Mumbles out my lips as my almost lifeless body groggily stirs awake. From the cold floor I sluggishly raise myself up in a room only dully lit by the sunlight coming through the Nintendo curtains as I stroll over to a table to pick up a cuddly robin, the type my little girl enjoys playing with.
“Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird won’t sing…”
I slowly lower the toy bird down onto the desk and pick up a diamond framed picture of Sarah in her flower girl dress.
“Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…and if that diamond ring turns brass, mama’s gonna buy you a looking glass…”
My eyes slowly drift away toward the old scars on inside of both my forearms. My left hand moves away from the frame and slowly stroke over my wrist, the texture still as easy to feel as the day I put them there.
“And if that looking glass gets broke, Mama’s gonna buy you a billy goat. And if that billy goat won’t pull, Mama’s gonna buy you a cart and bull…”
My other hand lowers the frame back down as I continue tracing the permanent marks before spotting the personal alarm I gave my baby girl a couple months ago. Finally moving my hand away from my scars to trace the outline of the alarm.
“And if that cart and bull turn over, Mama’s gonna buy you a dog named Rover…and if that dog named Rover won’t bark…”
Spotting a cuddly horse, the thing I got Sarah for her first birthday, laying on its side.
“Mama’s gonna buy you a horse and cart…”
I step over towards the cuddly pony, stand it back up on its feet and stroke the head of the inanimate object. Once doing this I pull out a small picture of me holding my little girl for the very first time as I turn to walk over towards the bed inside this room.
“And if that horse and cart fall down…”
I stop when I was by the bottom of the bed…the empty Pikachu sheets looking cold but nowhere near as cold as the air feels around me as I struggle to take a breath.
“You’ll still be the sweetest little baby in t-”
I fall to my knees and a loud cry throws itself out from as the next moment my already soaking face smacks against the bed, said sheets feeling soaked within moments, and my left hand moves to start clawing, scratching and tearing at my scars.
“BAD MUM, BAD MUM, BAD MUM!!!”
I repeatedly cry out as I keep attacking myself. It is my fault my baby is gone! I don’t deserve Sarah at all! What if Maggie’s right about Sarah being better off in foster care? That is most likely true as I feel the floor by my knees getting wet.
“MEGAN!”
Before my brain could identify that voice I can feel Shannon tackling me down to the ground and engulfing me in her chest and arms into a hug, making extra sure that my arms are nowhere near each other while doing so.
“Sarah is gone. It is all my faul-”
“No it is not Meggy. Please not beating yourself up over this. We will find Sarah, but we can’t when you’re like this. Please calm down dear.”
“B-But Sara-”
“That Cheyenne girl will definitely pay when we find her. But for now we need you to calm down baby.”
Shannon whispers directly into my ear as she starts to rock me back and forth. Finally giving into my emotions I begin to sob more loudly as I bury my crying face deep into her chest.
act 2
“What is there to feel when you lose your pride, joy and everything?”
Enters our ears as we find ourselves in a rather dark area. Glancing around ourselves we discover that we are actually in the rafters above the squared circle inside the Hinkle Fieldhouse. Why are we here? Because in front of us, sitting on a storage box of some kind is The Purple Haired Dynamo known as Otaki, with the FSW Champion securely around her waist and some bandages wrapped around her left arm.
“Well, do you know the answer? Probably not, that wouldn’t surprise us at all. But does Lancer know the answer at all? Wouldn’t surprise us if he doesn’t. After all, after failing to qualify for the Tournament of Power and being the second person eliminated in that big tag match back in August, he gets a couple of admittedly decent wins and now probably seeking to capitalise on our state and defeat us in the middle of the ring right beneath us. However he seems to be making the same kind of mistake those FOOLISH FOOLS keep making. Those Hatchet Gullys, Gyasis and Cheyennes have all made and still are making that very same mistake over, and over, AND OVER AGAIN!”
The FSW Champion glances over towards her bandaged arm for a moment before her left hand clenches into a fist.
“And unfortunately, for dear Lancer, he is the only person that’ll be within our grabbing distance. So here is a new question…why does Lancer wears a mask that covers his entire face? Could it be so that people can’t tell who he is when he walks down the street? Could it be to give children a sense of hope that even they can become someone like Lancer? Or could it simply be something less impressive, like either due to shyness or due to him possibly being self-conscious about his own appearance?
Maybe it is…
Maybe it isn’t…”
Otaki smashes her clenched fist straight down on the side of the box she is sitting on like some kind of drum.
“But we have just found a new answer to that question about Lancer. Why a mask? He doesn’t wear it out of self-consciousness, shyness, to be a hero or for secrecy.
But instead…
Once our infestation has finished infecting him this Sunday…
His mask will be the only thing…
That keeps his face together.”
Venomously departs The Emo Princess’ lips as shortly afterwards she slips herself off the box and onto her feet before pulling us close so her snow white face takes up most of our vision.
“We hold nothing personal against Lancer but, unfortunately for him, he is simply at the most wrong of place at the absolute worst of times as we will not be sorry for what we’ll end up doing to him. Instead, if anything, we may even get some kind of joy from it.”
Those words sickeningly leaves the milky skinned Champion’s lips as, a split moment later, a smirk of similar sickliness appears upon her face for a mere moment before she finally lets go of us and walks away, leaving us alone in this dark area.
Enters our ears as we find ourselves in a rather dark area. Glancing around ourselves we discover that we are actually in the rafters above the squared circle inside the Hinkle Fieldhouse. Why are we here? Because in front of us, sitting on a storage box of some kind is The Purple Haired Dynamo known as Otaki, with the FSW Champion securely around her waist and some bandages wrapped around her left arm.
“Well, do you know the answer? Probably not, that wouldn’t surprise us at all. But does Lancer know the answer at all? Wouldn’t surprise us if he doesn’t. After all, after failing to qualify for the Tournament of Power and being the second person eliminated in that big tag match back in August, he gets a couple of admittedly decent wins and now probably seeking to capitalise on our state and defeat us in the middle of the ring right beneath us. However he seems to be making the same kind of mistake those FOOLISH FOOLS keep making. Those Hatchet Gullys, Gyasis and Cheyennes have all made and still are making that very same mistake over, and over, AND OVER AGAIN!”
The FSW Champion glances over towards her bandaged arm for a moment before her left hand clenches into a fist.
“And unfortunately, for dear Lancer, he is the only person that’ll be within our grabbing distance. So here is a new question…why does Lancer wears a mask that covers his entire face? Could it be so that people can’t tell who he is when he walks down the street? Could it be to give children a sense of hope that even they can become someone like Lancer? Or could it simply be something less impressive, like either due to shyness or due to him possibly being self-conscious about his own appearance?
Maybe it is…
Maybe it isn’t…”
Otaki smashes her clenched fist straight down on the side of the box she is sitting on like some kind of drum.
“But we have just found a new answer to that question about Lancer. Why a mask? He doesn’t wear it out of self-consciousness, shyness, to be a hero or for secrecy.
But instead…
Once our infestation has finished infecting him this Sunday…
His mask will be the only thing…
That keeps his face together.”
Venomously departs The Emo Princess’ lips as shortly afterwards she slips herself off the box and onto her feet before pulling us close so her snow white face takes up most of our vision.
“We hold nothing personal against Lancer but, unfortunately for him, he is simply at the most wrong of place at the absolute worst of times as we will not be sorry for what we’ll end up doing to him. Instead, if anything, we may even get some kind of joy from it.”
Those words sickeningly leaves the milky skinned Champion’s lips as, a split moment later, a smirk of similar sickliness appears upon her face for a mere moment before she finally lets go of us and walks away, leaving us alone in this dark area.