jonah-hackett:
Samantha Lee Hudson. She was the type of girl who wouldn’t harm a fly. The type of girl who would save a dying predator. The type of girl who had the same sympathetic gaze whether she was looking upon a feeble babe or a cheating man. And everyday, she proved herself unflinchingly charitable. Never refusing to aid anyone, even if they were disagreeable. And so, it came as no surprise, that she had followed this young man home. A young man who ultimately refused her generous proposal. A young man who owned the loft that she was now breaking into. Standing on her very tip-toes, her petite fingers squirmed as she desperately attempted to grab hold of the spare key that had been poorly hidden above the door frame. “Ah, here we are you little stinker!” She seemed to speak out to no one but herself as she grabbed hold of the cold metal, shoving it into the keyhole before wrapping her fingers around the golden knob, twisting until the door popped open with a slight squeak.
She entered quietly. The entire abode seemed pitch black, aside from the dingy, yellow light that spilled from the active ceiling fan in the dinning room, and the blue-ish glare that staggered from my television set. Her heavenly hues were as bright and as wide as the moon; wielding fitful beams of intrigue as her eyes seemed to crawl over every inch of the loft. However, soon, her almost transluscent skin was quickly adorn by vivid color as she felt her cheeks embraced with an uninvited warmth. She had come to a realization that she was entering someone’s house without permission. “Oh my… I’m breaking the law, aren’t I?” Again, she spoke to herself. But she wasn’t leaving until she did her duty.
“Hellooooo! Is anyone home!” Smamtha had seen this behavior before, and so she instinctively headed for the bedroom closet, slowly pulling it open to reveal the terrified young man. “By the bright godess… You poor thing!” And so, she appeared. Kneeling before him. Fresh and dear. A being of such fair complexion, with a face of such innocence that it could only belong to a chaste woman. With eyes so round and attentive, they may have been those of a tender fawn; dependent on it’s mother as Samantha had become ever dependent on companionship. And, with strawberry locks that seemed so vibrant, they could be mistaken for the fire’s brilliant flames. With lips colored pink, soft and sublime as the underside of a rose. Came none other than Samantha Lee Hudson, that girl who couldn’t harm a fly.
And it seemed her forebodings were far from misplaced. She made a self-promise that she would not be leaving the loft until she saw the man in a full bloom of mental health. She endeavored to keep him safe. ”We have to get you out of this closet, Dear.”
Jonah would have killed to be anywhere else at that very moment. Hell might have been more pleasant than Vesper’s wrath, but he would sooner die than let himself admit that he was terrified of the woman. Fearful of what she might do should she be given the opportunity to take advantage of his weaknesses, he clung onto what remained of his battered and decrepit soul for dear life. He was so afraid of what he might become if she got her claws on what she sought after.
The door of his closet creaked opened, letting in the bleak light that bled into his empty bedroom which was void of the main components of a normal room. A beaten up, old mattress laid on the floor, withered from the abuse he gave it from his tossing and turning from his sleepless nights. There was a pile of clothes in the corner of the room, and a few old linkin park posters on the walls, but not much else was in his room. His entire loft appeared to be lacking in basic furniture, save for the old couch and television set in the living room. Whenever anyone asked about why he never bought furniture, he’d always shrug and say modestly that he didn’t need anything but the bare essentials. This was true, but he always tried to avoid having anyone go into his kitchen. The pantry shelves and fridge were bare and vacant of any food - everyone assumed that he was either poor, or anorexic despite his relatively muscular build. But the young man cared little for what his neighbors thought about him. He moved around too much to care about anything -
- until he started to make real friends.
Jonah cringed when he heard someone familar to him. The pitch was an octane higher than Vesper’s, and had a soothing, almost motherly tone among the soft notes of her voice. His eyebrows furrowed when he realized that it was Sam - his oh so persistent friend. He didn’t know how to react to her. He was accustomed to the meager kindness of strangers, but this woman had been so persistent and diligent in her desperate endeavors to assist him that she had scared him almost as badly as Vesper had in the beginning. He felt bad for her; she wanted so badly to help him, but he wasn’t someone who could be helped.
“G-Go away, Sam. Get out of my loft and leave me be,” the young man muttered through clenched teeth as he spit out the metal from his mouth, trying his damndest to feign a state of mental normality to get her to leave. But no sooner had he lifted his head to look at her, thunder roared overheard and lightning lit up the bedroom for a brief moment. His irrational fear took hold of him instantaneously and his cringed, clencing his eyes shut as he hugged his legs tighter.
“I’m fine,” He tried to lie, but he knew that his attempts to be alone would be fruitless, “I don’t need you here. Go away before I call the cops on you.” He would never do that, and she probably knew that. He was a terrible liar.
