T.J Merrit
writer [/center]
My mind is like Russian Roulette. You never know what I will think.
Posts: 76
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Post by T.J Merrit on Sept 30, 2009 15:10:58 GMT -5
T.J smiled at her. "Writing my dear." He said after a moment. He felt her arm break in his hand and he let go of her, almost instendly. Saying nothing he watched her, looking as she fell back against the wall. "Weren't you ever told never to trust people that you didn't know? You may end up worse then what I have done." He said. He blinked at her. Waiting. His deep voice hinting only slightly that he felt bad. He knew that he broke her arm in a place that would involve a lot of time to set, and even possibly surgery.
Stepping back a bit, Tyler put his hands in his pockets. He ran his fingers over the knife, and just looked at her, his face expressionless. He hoped that she would hate him. It didn't feel right if they didn't mind being hurt. Like Annabel. He sort of missed her. He had liked her though, and she was sweet to him. One of the few that were. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. She didn't know who he was, so she couldn't press charges or anything. He let out a soft sigh.
"A ballerina with a broken arm is like a writer with a broken leg. They don't need it that much. Dancing is on your toes, and a writer uses his hands." He said. "You won't need you arm. And i highly doubt that you have a what ever any time soon." He smirked a bit, and opened his pale blue eyes. he didn't understand dancing at all, and he didn't need to. He was a writer, he didn't need to know anything about it. Unless he would write a dance story, which he was never going to do. He was someone that wrote murder or horror books.
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Post by --eisley domonique harlow on Oct 11, 2009 22:19:07 GMT -5
--*what a shame we all became*-- [[such fragile broken things]]
[/color] **clothing optional;]**
[/color] She just tried to keep her cool, knowing it was better to just suck it up and deal than to make a big scene. Making a scene would only get her majorly hurt. She could feel the pain numbing her, knowing that this was a major injury. She blocked it from her mind. ”Well, I guess I’m just not smart sometimes. I liked the way you looked. You were company… it was better than being alone.” Her eyes didn’t show her pain, instead they hinted at the sadness, the true feeling at how alone she really felt most of the time. She gripped at the broken arm with her other hand, her fingers trying to hold the broken together. She looked up at him, not wanting pity… not wanting anything. She just didn’t know what to do. He was pure, twisted hatred and rage in a form she simply couldn’t resist. Not like it wasn’t what fit her. She was a beauty herself, a beauty that hid scars both physical and emotional. She was so seemingly perfect on the outside, so put together. But on the inside, she was always a constant mess, a broken soul that refused to be fixed and put back together. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him though she knew she truly should. She had hated what he had done. But she just couldn’t hate the guy himself. She was so screwed up on the inside that how could she be one to judge? She left her eyes and face fall back to staring at the ground, she just couldn’t bring herself to look at him anymore. Her vision had finally cleared a bit, the feeling of blacking out finally passing from her. She listened to him, her words failing for a few short moments. ”A b-bal-ballerina needs her a-arms as much as her legs. I need the balance and without it, it messes up my d-da-dan-dancing.” she spoke, her lips trembling as she began to feel terribly cold. Pain did this too her. It always made her feel numb, dead and cold to the world around her. She couldn’t say anything else. She just finally collapsed, leaning her head against her knees, her tears staining the denim that clung to her legs. [/size][/color] reserved for;; TJ words;; 407 listening to;; let the flames begin by paramore lyrics by;; paramore[/color][/ul][/center][/blockquote]
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T.J Merrit
writer [/center]
My mind is like Russian Roulette. You never know what I will think.
Posts: 76
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Post by T.J Merrit on Oct 11, 2009 23:04:50 GMT -5
Tyler said nothing to her. His eyes saying nothing. He's guilt was nothing like when he killed his father. He ran a hand there his jet black hair. "You could say that." He said after a moment. His deep voice hinting nothing. He took a step back, his hands in his pockets of his black jeans. He blinked at her. He was glad that she had no idea who he was. And he had no reason to change that. No one really knew his name anyway. So, unless she found Jess, he was safe with out her knowing who he was. He smiled at her, an eerie deadly smile. "Your fun to hang around. You know that?" He chuckled. "No. Your not smart at all for thinking about how I look like a normal dafe person to hang around." He said, sarcasm dripping in his words like poison.
He didn't really no what to say about he last comment. "Really? Most girls have plenty of balance on there own. I've met only a few girls that didn't have good balance." He said. "You'll be fine. I'm sure." He watched her fall to the ground. "As much fun as this has been, I think I should probably kill you." He said mono toned. He looked down at the blonde girl. He put his hand near her face, brushing a strand of blonde from her face. "Your beautiful, but even beautiful people get murdered." He said, with a deadly smile on his face.
"Or maybe, I'll just break your other arm and let you sit here in pain till someone finds you. Its not like you know who I am." He said. He pulled up his sleeves, reveiling tattoos of Batman and a few band names. He smiled at her. He bend down, squatting in front of her.
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