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He recognised that voice. Faces and voices and names, all of them, stored away in his mind.

But he couldnt quite place it.

And then, her face came into view. Marion.

Marion. That fucking bitch.

She was a popular girl, always in the limelight. Loved by pretty much everyone. And she didnt deserve it. She hadnt even bought her way into popularity, which might've made it bearable for him. No. She had won the genetic lottery.

She was pretty. Well, people told him she was pretty. He had never really looked at girls other than Her. And she flaunted it, taunted him. She seemed so disregardant of her social status. Like she was going;

"Oh, am I popular? I hadnt noticed"

He stared at the bottle of clear liquid and back at her.

What was it that he had promised Her? That he'd take care of Her and Shawn. That he'd take revenge on those who'd wronged her.

"Christ, Marion, is that you?" He asked, his voice cracking, as though he was happy to see her.

He could roll with that. He was happy to see her. He could gain her trust that way, yeah.

"Thank god, a friendly face." He murmured quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. As though she was hearing his inner thoughts.

He picked up the bottle, took of the lid and pretened to take a sip of it.

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Constructive Critism is always welcome! - I'm returning from a VERY long hiatus
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Movement · The Open Plains
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