TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter includes mature material including mental illness and forcing a dissociative identity disorder alter switch. Please read at your own risk. You've been warned.
GUEST CAST Harold House Moore as Elmer "Cricket" Roy
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THE FALLACIOUS INCRIMINATION OF ARIZONA ADAMS VIII. I've Tasted Blood and It's Sweet
Linden Park Apartments Woodbridge, Virginia January 18, 2010 10:42 PM
"You lied!"
She was discomposed, breaking down at the root of her t-shirt's seams. She couldn't even have seemed to brush her hair, how disappointing. There was blood on her forehead – a red streak, just above the eyebrow. Her pale skin! It was going to stain!
"Hello, little spring, I made some chicken, would you care for a piece?" He said with a fruity voice. There was something so smug about it. Like he was answering a question and he already knew it was right.
"You sick bastard!" She was exasperated, her voice was croaky and rigid. The poor thing sounded as if she had a sore throat; maybe it was because of the rain. Oh, has she gotten sick?
He turned from the stove, wrapped in an apron. 'KISS THE COOK,' it said. "Sweet spring, you seem flustered, can I get you a drink?"
She groaned, walking towards him. She reached her hands towards the apron, trying to pull it off of him. He grabbed her wrists, holding them without much effort. "I don't want you; I want Elliot!"
He tilted his head with a small smile, pushing her arms down with a passive movement. "Elliot's not available."
"I don't care! Get him!" She reached out again, pulling on the apron. She was gonna rip it!
"My spring, please!" He said, grabbing at her again. He didn't want to hurt her. Oh God, what if he hurt her?
"Please, I want Elliot!" She was starting to cry. She needed a towel.
He turned around back to the stove, reaching towards the paper towel holder. She wrapped her arms around his torso, placing her forehead against his back. She was breathing at an unreasonable pace.
"Please. Can you just get him for me?"
"Spring..."
"Brett, I'm asking you – please! And then I'll eat your chicken, please! I'll make the brown rice you like!"
Oh dear, she was crying. He ripped off the paper towel from the role, turning around to face her. He folded it with a gentle motion. He placed the corner of the napkin below her waterline, soaking up the excess dampness.
