@delxsive

misty rucker looks…normal. pallid, perhaps, but otherwise as gaunt and exhausted as any other day. ( except it is not any other day. underneath the sleeves of her jacket are cigarette burns wrapped in bandages; her fingertips are chewed bloody and covered with band-aids; her sense of reality is still somewhat blunted from doubling up on anti-nausea medication this afternoon. today is the day she almost lost everything, and if she had not forcefully slept her way through half of the day, she would look much, much worse. )

the psychology building is quiet. mostly unoccupied at this hour – except for the looming sense that there should be something lurking where there is nothing. tonight, misty rucker is dressed in camouflage and without makeup to conceal the dark circles under her eyes; tonight, she is the graveyard ripper, and she knocks, per the email she received, on her professor’s door.

@delxsive

( the pop quiz that landed in front of misty on monday morning was to be expected; ivory told her to study over the weekend. of course, she instead spent her weekend reminiscing about their first date – which was chaste and sweet – and fantasizing about what they would do the next time they saw each other. naturally, when she did see her, her presence proved to be a potent distraction, and she performed miserably on the quiz. )

thoughts of classwork are far from her mind when the younger woman opens her front door, looking even more casual than she had last friday. misty smiles at the adorable sight, almost laughing. those must be her pajamas. ❝ hi. ❞

@delxsive

if cabinetry could talk, it would tell misty rucker that her professor finds eating to be an inconvenience throughout a busy workday. the cabinets are filled with little more than pantry staples, and, in fact, they are not filled with much at all. to her surprise, the contents therein are obsessively organized; four boxes of cheerios are in order of expiration date, the spices are sorted alphabetically, and all the dried pasta has been transferred to clear, labeled jars. she speaks to mémé on the phone, trying to work out a hearty meal she can make with what food is available. ❝ elle a de la farine, du sucre blanc, de l'avoine… ❞

@delxsive

being at a bowling alley midday on a saturday – during the summertime, when none of the kids are in school – is not a pleasant experience for misty rucker. however, she endures it for ivory, because, after a disastrous night and a nearly disastrous morning, she is willing to bend any rule to keep her happy. like she's doing often these days. admittedly, hitting the pins with a twelve pound bowling ball helps ease the anxiety screaming children induce, but she can't seem to hit all of them.

the brunette practically skips with glee as she turns back from yet another strike; misty rolls her eyes, standing on the precipice of the approach. her arms uncross only to catch her 'girlfriend' as she's making her victorious strut back to their seats. ❝ uh-uh. if this is going to be a fair game, you have to teach me how to play. ❞

@delxsive​

     the hours grow, and the lengthening minutes bring only pain. everything is prolonged and disjointed; misty knows the feeling well. first comes the tears, then the devolution into crippling anxiety – where she stays, suspended in panic, ALONE – until, finally, she slips to fitful sleep. there is no hiding it from her family members, who watch from afar with concern creasing their faces; they ask, but she refuses to talk. there is too much cigarette smoke in her mouth. it makes her nauseous. 

     what has she done? misty cannot put words to her actions, nor to her feelings. every explanation contradicts itself, and the dissonance of it makes her head ache. but not as much as her heart. can she say that she feels as scared now as she did when her mother was first diagnosed with alzheimers? fear cannot be measured equally, for it BLEEDS into everything. how can she live without her mother? how can she live without ivory?

     that is the reality that keeps her awake at night. that is the reality that robs her of her stability. and it is that which sees her on the porch at nearly one in the morning, lighting up the first of many cigarettes of the new day. the smoke stings dry, bloodshot eyes that stay wide despite that they are heavy from exhaustion. her forehead rests in the palm of her hand as she leans against the railing, and she stays that way until headlights cast harsh shadows across the foliage.

     misty squints against the bright light. is that…? the door opens and out stumbles the familiar form of her…well, she’s in no place to define what they are right now. forty-hours, and the answer isn’t any clearer. ivory staggers over the pavement, and immediately she knows that something is very, very WRONG. ❝ ivy–! ❞

@delxsive

     chloe– well, ivory grimes is, as she’s learning, a little too clever for her own good. that cardboard box full of spray paint is practically labelled ‘trouble’, and the proposition that they break the law is precarious at best. but the girl smells like home, so misty relents easier than she should. ❝ are you having spiders in your head? ❞

@delxsive​

     ❝ have you ever thought, ❞ misty begins, after a long, reflective silence, ❝ about the strangeness of masturbation? ❞ the necrophile lay on her back, legs stretched out and comfortably resting in her girlfriend’s lap; the paperback she’s been reading is splayed on her chest, forgotten.

@delxsive

the funeral home is quiet tonight. deathly quiet. all the lights are off and so is the heat. misty knows it to be after eleven; when she last checked the time, her phone's external display read 11:14. her work was done long ago, but she's since become engrossed in a text conversation with her digital correspondent. a blanket draped over her lap and legs tucked underneath herself, she relaxes in the armchair nestled in the corner of her office. a space heater hums amid her mechanical clicks, pumping out warm air while the vents do not.

ivory likes to ask questions, and misty does not have qualms about answering most of them. however, her phone is not a nicer model with predictive texting, which makes lengthy explanations laborious. when the question: what is it you like about working on difficult cases? appears on her screen, she knows there is no short answer. her thumb hovers over the dial key for several long minutes before, finally, she presses it – deciding to do what she's been thinking about doing for the past week ( now that she has the privacy ).

@delxsive​

     misty rucker, it seems, is not above doing something stupid for a pretty girl. the football stadium is crowded; her peers and their families line the bleachers, bundled in warm clothes that are imbued with school spirit. fanaticism is not her color, but she borrowed her younger brother’s hoodie for the occasion: a friday night football game. the navy blue abides by her gothic persona well enough; on the front, in bright yellow, is the school name and its mascot and, on the back, RUCKER.

     she leans against the railing at the bottom of the bleachers, hoping that if she cannot see the crowd of people behind her, that she will not be as affected by their incessant noise. a characteristic scowl is carved into her features, but catching a glimpse of chloe ivory along the sidelines makes her smile. that’s her girlfriend.

@delxsive

misty rucker is not accustomed to looking at someone and thinking lewd thoughts. but, as of late, and as she gazes down at her phone screen, lit up with a photo of ivory grimes' naked breasts, all she can think about is how much she enjoys the soft, cold flesh in her hands and her nipples in her mouth. the anticipation makes her shiver ( as time warp echoes faintly through the car radio ) and SQUIRM. and she's inside the house without realizing, seeking out the attention of her fake girlfriend. ❝ salut, ❞ she greets while depositing her things among the mess that is the dinning room table.

@delxsive​

     ivory grimes is not handling the cessation of their co-habitation well. but the psychologist is healed now – able to fully function on her own – and misty rucker misses her family. she went from seeing them every day to hardly seeing them at all. for MONTHS. and, while she adores her girlfriend, and she adores their newfound connection, there remains a neglected responsibility to her elders. 

     nevertheless, the embalmer finds the time between doctors appointments, chores, and a fifty-hour work week to see ivory; she even found the time to pick up a small bouquet of flowers. knocking on the front door, she thinks of how nice it will be to kiss her after days apart…

@delxsive​

     misty emerges from the bathroom a short ten minutes later – long, obsidian hair damp and clean pajamas donned. the scholar is normally so resistant to washing her laundry, yet every piece of clothing she left in the hamper last weekend is now cleaned and put away. ( well, except for one sweater, which she saw laying atop ivory’s bed; it smelled like her. ) walking into the living room, she sees a spread of her favorite snacks covering the coffee table, and the nacho dip sits in the middle with an open bag of doritos right next to it. the embalmer stands halfway between the hallway and the couch, staring. ❝ ivory…what is all of this? ❞ 

@delxsive​

     misty pushes open the front door, and right there, on the living room couch, is her brother…cuddling her girlfriend. ( oh, having a day off had been nice – in fact, she wanted the whole weekend to herself – but she did not intend for john to care for ivy like THIS. ) “ hey, ” he greets, but she just STARES. she stares, because her bewilderment ( and betrayal ) cannot yet be put into words. crossing the precipice from the foyer to the living room, she finally snaps. ❝ what are you doing? ❞

     ❝ watching the hunchback of notre dame. ❞ 

     ❝ what are you doing with my girlfriend? ❞ she clarifies cooly.

@delxsive​

     it should have taken an hour. it should have been a simple, straightforward clean-up. misty has done this for her partner-in-crime numerous times now ( and in much more precarious places ). so, when ivory emerges from the car, ghostly pale, and says someone is approaching, things become complicated. they are standing above a shallow grave – shovel in one hand, dried blood coating another; it’s only going to end one way. 

     ❝ you need to kill him, ivory. ❞ 

@delxsive​

     ( it took esme less than ten minutes to answer a question that never should have been asked. and she sat on the edge of the bed for thrice as long, processing that new knowledge. chloe grimes. kidnapped by jason béliveau; the only one of many to survive, because, when the fatal moment came, SHE MURDERED HIM. ) 

    looking at restful features, it’s hard to fathom that someone so gentle and caring has blood on her hands. but esme won’t – can’t – judge her for the choices she made in such a traumatic situation. to have the life that she has now, to be here at all…she commends her strength. 

    thoughts roll around her mind like marbles circling a funnel – falling through only to reemerge a moment later; she rises to finish the laundry ( as she initially intended to ) and returns to find ivory awake. a hoodie that esme recognizes as belonging to misty has been tugged over the sports bra that she was previously sleeping in. ❝ hey. ❞ she says. ❝ how are you feeling? should i close the window? ❞ 

@delxsive

❝ have you been teaching marley big words when i'm not around? ❞ john asks over an open bottle of beer, his other hand placed upon his hip in paternal display. ❝ before i dropped her off at carolyn's this afternoon, she said i needed to stop being so, i don't know, obes–obsess– obsequious. it was embarrassing. ❞