#the damn internet isn't doing the thing iwant it to

[filthystill]

“  what the fuck is wrong with you?  ” from nick for Jimmy

meme i lost. oops.

WHAT A SCENE.

The door hung limply off the hinges. Splintered wood, someone had went through it with some sort of tool, chop chop chop, blood on the floor.

YOU CAN'T HIDE.

The television set looked horrendously out of date, guts lying on the floor, exposed, he'd smashed the glass, and taken it apart. What was this all about? You won. This is what you wanted. You did what you always did, but you forgot to turn it off. This wasn't home. This was a safehouse. Do you even have a home? What do you think of when you think of home?

SHAME ON YOU.

Cruised for four days. Time elongated, and now, because he had abused it, because he thought he could make a day last 96 hours, his hubris, time bit back, swallowed him whole. He'd gotten his grubby mitts on some speed, speed, cocaine with none of the fun. Maybe that's what this was all about. The itch wasn't scratched. Didn't feel like that. He was standing on the kitchen counter when Nick walked in, business he presumed, a second of eye-contact before Jimmy proceeded to elbow-drop the table, he went through the wood, landing in a heap on the floor.

It's not a clear memory, but it's vivid, a snapshot among the blackout. Big-ass butchers knife, inspecting warped reflection. Fuck, he looked so old. Fuck it, here we go. The ring lay in pool of blood.

"You have worms in your brain," thumb pressed to his hand, a tenderness you never expect from another guy, a firmness.

"Got worms in my brain."