#» * verse. fs94.

[edithmaslow]

      the strangest thing, in retrospect, is that he had left the mall after the initial bloodbath and come home. edith didn’t have the closing shift at the record store, so the radio was going while she was washing dishes. usually she does have the closing shift, locking the front door and sorting the records and tapes before turning off the lights and rushing out the back. it’s an eerie feeling, closing up a shop like that. she’d never want that in the mall, where people are all around and yet unseen. daniel does it more often than she’d ever like to. she sometimes gets a bit suspicious about it, but there isn’t much thought to give it.

      outside, the street is eerily quiet. edith looks up from the plate she’s washing, surveying the darkened street outside the apartment. the streetlamps were fucked, honestly, but at least when they were flickering and spotty they gave off some light. now, it’d be pitch black other than pale yellow squares of other apartments and the occasional headlights of a car. she hated it. at least, back home, there would be crickets and flood lights and maybe even frogs. now it’s the staticky radio and little else. lost in thought, she keeps scrubbing the same plate. the radio loses connection, turning into white noise with snatches of words. kzzzzzt -- mall, sev -- kzzzzt -- an tor -- zzzzzz. groaning, edith shuts off the radio. no noise is better than indecipherable nonsense. “fuck, it’s ten thirty. where is he?”

     (once a flirt, always a flirt, dipshit.)

     shut up. he wouldn’t.

     she hears the truck door close. must have not seen his headlights. the radio flickers back to life, some old fifties love song playing. weird, but not unheard of. there’s been numerous times that the radio would switch to some random station, or cut on when no one touched it. it’d never done both, though. she turns to the door as it opens, her boyfriend standing in the entryway. she snickers at first -- he’s in some doofy devil-themed halloween costume, mask and all. she approaches, still laughing. “wow, very scary, daniel -- you’re a little early, aren’t you? c’mon, at least take that stupid mask off --”

      damp fingers tug the thin plastic mask off his face, revealing the specks of blood on his blank, unfeeling face. she staggers back, one eyebrow arching. “dan -- danny, you’ve got blood on your face … what happened?” 

       no response.

       she meets his eyes as best she can -- his eyes are dull, more gray than she’s ever seen before. it’s like there’s nothing behind them, just like a sleepwalker or a corpse. he’s ignoring her, just lumbering into the apartment. he pushes past her, which elicits a scoff as she closes the door behind him. “daniel, you’re being a real dick right now. you aren’t gonna say hey or i’m tired, g’night, or nothing? like, s’okay if you had a bad day, you just --”

       that’s when daniel pulls a knife from the drawer. edith turns from the door, eyes widening. “okay, sorry, but -- what -- what are you doing?”

         he’s advancing on her, knife held down. she continues her nervous requests for him to stop, asking him what the fuck is wrong with him, till he raises the knife halloween-style with clear intent. she ducks to the side just seconds before the blade collides with the wooden door. okay, shit, he’s serious. the radio is coming in clear again, a news report. reports of a mass killing of several shadyside mall employees are coming in, seemingly carried out by a young man by the name of ryan torres … oh. she scrambles away again, managing to put two and two together. daniel had helped. and he got out before the cops showed up, and now he’s trying to kill her. he isn’t even being subtle about it. like it isn’t him. she’s smaller and faster than him, vaulting over the couch and ducking into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her. the door opens out. she can hit him.

          in the dark, she hangs onto the doorknob to keep it pulled shut. her breath is heavy and quick, bordering on hyperventilation. the tears of fear don’t start till she feels the knob rattle roughly. no, no -- she’s jolted by him slamming himself into the door, knocking a small scream from her mouth. “daniel -- daniel, stop!” no response. he slams himself against the door again. in the anticipation of the third battering ram, she swings the door open. but it doesn’t connect, and instead she is face to face with her knife-wielding boyfriend. she gasps, immediately attempting to swing the door closed again. he stops the door with his hand, edith’s own force knocking her to the floor after her head hits the threshold. her hands fly up to shield her face, instinctively. he holds fast onto her wrist, pulling her kicking and screaming body away from the door. 

         she isn’t sure where he’s trying to take her, but she sure as hell doesn’t think she wants to go there. edith hooks her foot on a leg of the couch, trying to either bring forth the inevitable or stall it. his grip on her arm tightens, bordering on the strength it would take to break her wrist. she yanks her arm, nearly avoiding his stumbling feet on her face. the only response is an inhuman growl from daniel, who uses his offput balance to pin her underneath him. she lays on the ground, briefly stunned. he actually lifts the knife and stabs her -- on the wrong side. it isn’t her heart, it won’t kill her instantly. this was it, wasn’t it? she’d moved to ohio with daniel, thinking that maybe they could make something of a life here. but instead she was going to be stabbed to death by her boyfriend on this shitty rug in a shitty apartment, and it’s unlikely any of her family will ever know. this isn’t supposed to happen.

       why is she letting it happen?

       he lifts the knife again, but she shifts and grabs his hand with both of hers, fighting the downward power as best she can. he overpowers her, slicing open her cheek and hitting the floor. she screams, hands still over his. it stings, she can feel the blood pouring from her face. panicked, she pries at his fingers to release them from the knife. if she can get it out of his hand -- she can maybe incapacitate him, maybe long enough to call the cops and get them here -- his other hand clobbers at her shoulder, at her chest, beating her where he’d already stabbed her. “stoppit, stoppit, stoppit -- just … just let go, please!” she frees his hand from the weapon, grabbing it herself. she stabs at him, catching him once, twice, three times in the abdomen. she shoves him off of her, and climbs on top of him, her own wounds bleeding and her breath tasting metallic with her own blood. in a frenzy of fear, adrenaline, and the fury of someone who simply refuses to die like this, she keeps stabbing indiscriminately. his blood is spurting onto the carpet, onto her face, her clothes, her hands. he has to be dead. he is dead. she knows he is. he isn’t moving in the slightest, blood trickling from his mouth and the rest of him as dead as his eyes had been. her chest is screaming. the tears make the gash on her face sting worse than the air already did. still crying, shaking, her vision getting blurry, she lands one final blow. right to the heart. like a vampire. she pushes herself off his body, army crawling to the kitchen. weakly, nearly falling, she pulls herself up onto a counter, hands slick with blood. her shaking hands fumble the landline, her mouth tasting like blood and her vision spinning. she barely manages to punch in the three numbers. it rings.

         “911, what’s your emergency?”          “o-oh, oh thank god -- my name is … edith, edith maslow -- i-i killed my boyfriend, and -- and i need an ambulance.”          “you killed your boyfriend, ma’am?”          “listen -- i think my wrist is broken, my face is bleeding, he stabbed me in the chest -- please send an ambulance.”          “all right, i’m sorry -- what’s your location?”

       edith rattles off the address, leaning her head back against the kitchen wall. in the minutes before the ambulance arrives, she drifts in and out of consciousness, eyes fixed on daniel’s lifeless body. there are flies on his face. his face, which she’s kissed so many times. his face that didn’t move in any way when he attacked her. his face, his eyes -- she’d later tell the police that it wasn’t him, not really. his eyes were dull and dead, there was nothing there. there shouldn’t be flies in here -- are they getting louder, or is that what it sounds like when you die?

        the radio was still playing, static littering the song. oh, honey, i know, you belong to somebody new … it continues to play as the paramedics wheel her out, weakly conscious, and bag up daniel’s body.

       turns out, shadyside doesn’t just curse its natives. sometimes the fresh meat rots, too.

[edithmaslow]

@neverafters​:   “ quickly, get in before anyone sees you ... ”

       she slides her way into the front door easily enough, though not as easily as usual. edith knows she looks like hell. frankly, she’s surprised anyone would let her in their house at this point. nervous energy is ticking through every strand of muscle fibre, & if she wasn’t quite so shell-shocked & torn up, she’d be trying to expel at least some of it. “ list’n, thanks, i -- i’m real sorry about showin’ up like this, but. it’s ... you’re th’ only person i could think would listen. ‘cause ... you were there, at that camp, right? & y’know it -- sorta, i guess, happened again, or whatever? i’m - not really from around here, i’m not sure, but. ” slow down. she pauses, taking a few deep breaths. “ it wasn’ just th’one kid. my boyfriend -- ex boyfriend, he, um. he worked at th’mall. they reported it as separate, but ... he helped. & he came home, & ... okay, basically, i had to kill my boyfriend, but he started it. that’s. not the issue. ”

        she’s been rambling while turned away, trying to articulate all this nonsense that’s been dumped in her lap by some so-called witch from the seventeenth century. but she turns back around, stone serious. “ i’ve seen him. since then. & not ... not some bullshit grief hallucination or whatever. him. solid. back from the fuckin’ dead. ”

accepting.

[edithmaslow]

        an idiot. okay, yeah, maybe so. she was still technically nursing a few injuries, though the adrenaline of one crazy night was keep her notice from them. however, newer & less serious scrapes were gained in the escape from the hospital. edith hisses a bit at the cleaning of the fresher knife wound on her arm, before sighing. “ yeah, well, i don’t think my massive i.q. w’ld block th’knife of a dead guy, so. call me what you want, i guess. ”

@schmdts​.  /  x.

[edithmaslow]

@znrza​:  “  you’re not weak.  ”

         she could either agree or disagree. edith isn’t sure yet. she doesn’t feel weak -- weak people die from what’s happened to her. weak people would give up. but at the same time, she does. weak people let the echoes bounce in their skull. weak people can’t find it in them to wash the blood off the walls. edith runs a shaky hand through her hair, breath shallower than usual to avoid the pain that comes with breathing too deep. “ y’know -- th’first time i killed him, i was scared shitless. didn’ know ... what was happening. this time? ... it’s not really him. it’ll be easier this time. ”

accepting.

[edithmaslow]

@feelsdeath​: ❛ I’m scared. That’s all I am. ❜

         it’s been a month. long enough for the rumors & whispers to spread about the girl at the record store who killed her boyfriend -- i heard it was self-defense. i heard she was locked away. do you think it’s the curse? did it get her, or the guy? she’s tired of hearing it. sometimes particularly snotty kids from sunnyvale would come in, trying to slyly ask her about it, or accuse her of things. edith had expected more of that. “ don’ see why -- it’s all over now. things’re gonna even out, & rumor has it -- th’curse is lifted. ... if y’believe that crap. ”

accepting.

[edithmaslow]

@schmdts​: “ i did it my way. ”

        “ as y’should. s’no other way t’do shit, huh? ” 

accepting.

[edithmaslow]

@schmdts​: “ tell me, who do you think you are? ”

         green eyes flash at kate, the ferocity of needing to survive painted across her face. “ i’m the bitch who killed that motherfucker the first time. & i dunno about you, kid, but i like t’finish what i start. & i clearly didn’t get my message across th’ first time -- is there any problem with that? ” 

         edith knows that, given the current situation, maybe being hostile isn’t the best way to negotiate. but her boyfriend is currently back from the dead & out for blood, which absolutely makes this her problem. she doesn’t open her mouth any more than necessary while talking, careful of the stitches holding her face in one piece. “ my name is edith maslow, & i’ll be damned if i don’t kill my ex ... again. ”

accepting.

[edithmaslow]

         she was still on the mend from her final encounter with daniel when shit broke loose at the hospital. but she was, for better or worse, now trying to clean a new knife wound from her ex’s partner in crazy. edith is being helped by one of the other patients’ girlfriend (she thinks) in the back of a pilfered ambulance. deena, she thinks. the blonde girl is sam, from what she’s gathered, but the rest of the names are unclear. “ that w’s ... that w's ryan torres. he died. what kind of lazarus -- shit, ” she hisses, the wound stinging. it wasn’t too bad, not like a stab wound or the near-hole in her face, but this still sucks. “ not to be rude, but if we see his pal in the devil costume, i’m done. ” her volume lowers to a mumble, still audible but clearly to herself, “ already killed that sonofabitch once this week ... ”

@witchbeat​.  patch.

[edithmaslow]

@callslgns​:  “that’s why i was so afraid. do you understand?”

         “ yeah. i do, actually. ” it’s been long enough that she doesn’t need some overly large bandage to keep the side of her face from splitting back open where daniel’s blade had traced. every day since the night it happened, she’s scrubbed her hands chapped & raw thinking she can lady macbeth his blood off her hands. teeth clamp down on her lower lip, trying to stop the threat of losing it. edith was the only person who survived making contact with him that night. she was questioned by the sheriff, barely able to talk for shock & fear of her wound reopening. he wasn’t there, behind his eyes. there was no recognition, like he was braindead. “ i, um. the -- you heard about daniel? like. floyd? h-he. he was one of the ... yeah. ” breathe, wring her hands like she’s still washing them. “ he was my boyfriend. i moved here, with him. over the summer. ”

         she’s quiet for a moment, still feeling like his blood is on her hands & face, mingling with the blood from her own wounds. she remembers wrestling the knife from him after a knock to the head, stabbing & stabbing until he stopped moving, crying & screaming. she remembers fumbling the phone, still panicked, but sounding calm over the phone. more than anything else, she remembers seeing him afterward. though she’s not sure if that was real. “ i killed him. i know ... i know what you’re talking about. it’s hell. it ... s’just hell. ”

accepting.

[edithmaslow]

@naivetm​:  “ it’s  been  a  very ,  very ,  very  trying  past  few  days .  ”

       edith stares blankly at the other girl. granted, while she’s relatively new to shadyside & its treasure trove of death, she can recognize someone who doesn’t live there at all. it’s been around a week since daniel popped his springs & tried to kill her -- as well as successfully killing a few other people. the visible injuries are healing, but haven’t gone away yet. the other girl, however, looks fine. maybe a bit tired. “ oh, yeah, you guys lost ... what, two football players? pinnacle of society? ”

       the tone is pointed, even with the sweetness inherent in her southern accent. her blank expression hasn’t shifted, but she keeps organizing the records she’s been tasked with. “ my boyfriend was one of the killers. i lost him more than once that night. as well as some friends i was trying to help keep safe. nearly died myself. ” she pauses her busywork, looking back at the girl. “ so forgive me, honey, if i’m not super sympathetic to sunnyvale. i’m a little emotionally preoccupied. ”

accepting.

[edithmaslow]

@kateschmldt​: “That’s another life lesson.”

         “ oh, sure, kate -- i’ll be sure, next go ‘round, i won’t date someone who might get fucking possessed. that’ll be part of my screening process! ” she’s already killed this asshole once. granted, it was panic-induced. edith only meant to knock him out. but considering the still-bandaged wound on her side, as well as the fresh bruises on her face, she figured it was justified. & now she’s helping out some high schoolers who stole an ambulance, because ... ? well, partially because she’s fond of kate. but also because they’re the only ones who know what she knows.

        i never should have moved with him to fucking ohio. that’s the lesson.

        edith figures she could take just daniel. the six of them, definitely. but then there’s ryan, daniel’s friend. & the guy with the sack head, or sack on his head. very jason circa movie two. it’d be laughable except for the axe. & the singing girl with the razor blade. (what the hell even is this, sweeney todd? ohio is weird.) apparently snow white had already taken a swing at one of kate’s friends. you grip the machete you’d grabbed from the house. an old thing from when you two both lived in the goddamn woods. “ listen, there’s six of us & four of them -- if y’can get the blade away from ruby, you could probably restrain her. then it’d be six-to-three. i can ... i can take daniel. i should. the other two ... i dunno. ”

       if anyone needs to die at daniel’s hand, it might as well be her. it’d really take their relationship to the next step.

accepting.

[edithmaslow]

@shadysider​:    ❝ do you want a cup of coffee? ❞

         “ i don’ drink coffee. ” she’s perched on the edge of a chair, one leg bouncing almost as if the muscles are spasming -- she’s had enough adrenaline scared into her system to keep her alert for days. caffeine would be useless. her heart speeds up when she thinks about seeing his face, pale & lifeless, crusted with blood (hers? probably. his? also probably.) after she’d dealt the final blow. “ list’n, i -- i know this is a lot t’ like ... i dunno. i know y’ probably aren’t too thrilled t’see someone sayin’ their dead boyfriend is walkin’ around & tryin’ t’ kill people. i jus’ ... i don’ have anywhere t’ go, they’ve still got my apartment taped off & shit. ”

meme.

[edithmaslow]

nothin 2 see here