#femmeveined: dakota.

[abjecterrora]

“How many people did you kill?” from dakota

       “that’s not a question you need to concern yourself with.”  the statement is flippant, like it’s just a fact of life.  of course they’ve killed someone.  survival is important, you know (but that’s a universal truth—not something that needs to be stated outright).  “what i can tell you is that it’s—a lot less than you might be expecting.”  a lie, but the truth would sound absolutely fucking bonkers.

you know, a little bit of the truth at a time.  that’s how things are going to go.

the master. / @femmeveined

[vuulpecula]

      Coming to the bar was a coping mechanism, an act she told herself would make her better. If she could get used to strangers resting their hands on her, maybe she could get used others too. Thus far, it did little to help and left her with more sleepless nights spent in self-loathing for something that wasn’t her F A U L T. The bartender though, she was nice, and so familiar looking. All this time and only now did she recognize her from the late night newsreels. 

      “You’re the Dakota Anderson,” she breathed, a wash of recognition coming over her features. What had happened to her was horrid, but what the news had done only worsened it. “What happened to you -- I’m sorry, for all of it.” How empty and hollow those words were. She knew they wouldn’t help, but what else could she say? I know how you feel? I’ve been there too? Do you still have nightmares that eat you alive? 

@femmeveined ❤’d for a STARTER. 

[darkrccm]

Rachel’s arms tighten around her midriff, suddenly feeling voyeuristic standing there with Dakota on the beach of the lake. People had died here. Awful, nonsensical deaths. Her head immediately moves towards the woods further back, her imagination forming an image of Dakota bursting through the trees, crying, covered in cuts and bruises from the unforgiving wooded area that took her loved ones from her. She follows this image all the way to where they’re standing, flickering sights of the woman standing beside her being pinned to the sand, a blade threatening to end her life with a final blow.

She can’t help but close her eyes, trying to erase the image from her mind and bring her focus back to the present. There was no danger here anymore, it was just a lake. 

Just a lake.

The unpleasant nausea building in her stomach almost wins the war at Dakota’s nonchalance, the urge to empty the contents of her insides held back by moving a hand to her mouth. It takes her a minute to gain her composure, allowing her hand to drop only when she felt confident enough that she wasn’t about to choke up her lunch.

“How can you just do that? How can you stand here and talk about what happened like it meant nothing? Aren’t you angry?”

Rachel knows she’s out of her depth here, that she couldn’t possibly compare their experiences but... She couldn’t imagine stepping in the barn again, going deep underground to what was surely going to be her tomb.

@femmeveined continued from here.