Meanwhile...
While other Exiles are on the prowl for food or information Roxanne finds herself on the seat of her bike watching the last rays of sun dip below the Russian sky and hums an old Johnny Cash tune. She's never alone, but in these in-between times she can talk to him - kinda. Neither her or the demon are at peace or would know what peace looked like if they had it. The only part of being an exile she can't take is knowing what she does holds Johnny and everyone else she ever knew's soul in the balance. It's why she doesn't fight him when he takes her over and her bike away from her night after night leaving her a dazed and confused wreck every morning. Even as he tears her up and takes everything she has the Demon is becoming her only friend. She heard about this on the news once - Sweed syndrome or something. It's where you and the guy who's doing bad things come to some screwed up understanding. You start seeing his side of things and his world gets to be yours no matter how sick it is.
Stockholm syndrome it puts into her mind. I can read everything you think. You're beginning to look forward to getting out.
"Only time I'm something other then a lost hick no one wants to look at too close," she murmurs in response. "But ah still ain't as bad as some. An' it could be worse. Ah could have no clue as to what was happ'n to me."
She can feel Zarathos chuckle as it rips her down and open again, kicks up the stand and fires off into the night.
(Read comments)
Post a comment in response:
scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by 
hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status
