Acrimonia Black | Wrath (acrimonia) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2012-06-05 08:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | saint george, wrath |
WHO: Wrath and George and Wrath's poor plaything
WHAT: Help meeeee
WHEN: Monday evening
WHERE: Wrath's new place
WARNINGS: Aftermath of Wrath's sexual 'play'
There was blood under her fingernails.
Hunched in the corner of her new bedroom, Wrath stared at the large man tied to the bed. His foot was hanging over the edge, motionless.
Greed had brought him to her and she had played gleefully. The man, large and well-muscled, had enjoyed it at first. Soon enough it had turned to screaming and bleeding and begging and Wrath hadn't even stopped for breath.
It was Patience's fault. He showed up and every cell in Wrath's body needed to rebel against the sickeningly sweet feeling the virtue caused in her. And she hadn't even seen him in person yet. She could just feel him on the periphery, lurking there being understanding and kind and disgusting.
But Patience didn't have a bleeding man tied to his bed. Wrath needed help or she was going to hang herself and leave the man to fend for himself. In a moment of clarity she texted the only person she could think of who would help her. She texted George her location and that she needed help. Her door was open. He could just come in.
George didn't get texts from Wrath often, and she wasn't the type to ask for help unless something downright catastrophic was going on. He ran instead of trying to bother with the constant nightmare that was NYC traffic, and arrived at Wrath's apartment pretty quickly. He knocked on the wall before he went inside.
"Wrath, what-" he saw the man on the bed and froze by the door. "What's going on?"
Wrath made a face at George as she stared up at him from the corner. "We- We were playing," she explained. "He's alive." Or he had been last she checked. "It got out of hand."
George moved carefully, not sure how edgy Wrath was, and knelt by the side of the bed. He raised his hand to the man's neck, then his wrist, looking for a pulse. It was faint and thready, but George sighed in relief anyway. He pulled his pocketknife out and sawed at the rope binding the man to the bed. The man was more or less unconscious, moaning in pain as George moved his bloody wrists.
"He struggled for a while," George said flatly. "He must have asked you to stop."
"They always do," she replied, her voice just as flat. "It's Patience, George. I can feel the fucker and I hate it! Tried to open my own veins but it didn't work for long so Greed brought me him," she gestured randomly to the guy on the bed. "He wanted to play at first."
George stared at her, starting to say half a dozen different things but never actually making a sound. He had never met someone who made him feel infuriated and sympathetic in equal measure the way Wrath did. Instead of trying to figure out what to say (what could he say?), he pulled out his phone and dialed 911.
"I need an ambulance," he said, giving the address. He heard the 911 operator paused and breathed out sharply. "Look I know this is the bad part of town, okay, please just send someone!"
Wrath watched as George called for an ambulance, as she had expected him too. "We have to wait here for them?" she asked, not really wanting to deal with questions. "Can we leave?"
George's first instinct was to respond with "Fuck no, we can't leave," but he considered how bad the situation might get if one of the EMTs tried asking Wrath what had happened. Lips pressed into a thin line, he stared down at the man. The bleeding was sluggish, and Wrath hadn't hit any arteries. The man wouldn't die if he was left alone.
George wrapped bits of sheet tightly around the bigger cuts and then stood up. Without looking at Wrath, he said, "Let's go."
Wrath nodded and she moved quickly out the apartment window and on to the fire escape. She didn't want to chance meeting the EMTs on their way into the building.
Once in the alley, she turned to George. "I was supposed to keep him as a pet," she explained. "I'm not allowed to have anything good."
George whirled suddenly and punched the wall furiously, not caring about the explosion of pain from his hand. He rested his head against the wall and stared down at his hand, now bloody in several places.
"What the hell, Wrath? Jesus Christ above."
George getting angry was actually good for Wrath. Anger cancelled out any shame she felt coming from Patience, at least for a moment. She smiled at George then, only just keeping herself from licking the blood off of his hand.
"What's confusing about that?!"
George took a few deep breaths, trying not to start yelling. He was actually able to keep his temper a little better around Wrath, because he was more aware of it. But now, with some innocent guy bleeding and hurt because of her, it was hard.
"People are not pets, or gifts," George growled out. "What if he had died? What-how is Patience causing this?"
"He wanted to be my pet!" Wrath yelled back at him, feeling better just for letting some of her anger out instead of keeping it in. "Up until he started screaming! All of it is Patience's fault! That rat bastard makes me feel ashamed of what I am. And I can't change that! I hate him!"
"I should just drag you over to Patience and tie you to something until he fucking calms you down!" George shouted, whirling and kicking over a trash can. "Rrrrrg!"
Wrath backed up quickly when George threatened to do that. Her eyes went wide and terrified. "No! Nononono, George, no!" And then she burst into tears. "You don't understand! It's all I am! I either want to kill other people or I want to kill myself and I can't change that! All the other sins get to be happy with something and I get this! Patience turns the anger inwards and I die over and over and over again! That's all! That is all I can do!"
Aw crap. George hadn't wanted her to cry. He never wanted anyone to cry.
"No, okay, no, I'm not gonna do that." George drifted closer, considering whether a hug would get him a broken nose. "Oh jeez, don't cry. I'm not gonna do that."
"You can't tell me I don't deserve it," she continued, sniffling. "You can't say the world is better with me in it. There is nothing redeeming about me. Nothing."
"You're what makes people human, Wrath," George said, taking a chance and rested a hand on her shoulder. "You make people strong, give them a reason to fight and stand up for themselves. You're the only sin that anyone ever talks about God feeling, you know? The wrath of the righteous."
She raised her eyebrows slightly at that and then leaned her head against George's shoulder, something she wouldn't have done were it almost anyone else.
"I have to feel like shit all the time so God can be righteous and so humans can be human. Fucking balls. Fucking diseased rhinoceros balls. I didn't mean to hurt that man. It just happened. I scared him so much he shit himself and then I cut into him to punish him. That's what makes people human?"
George patted her gently on the shoulder. In the distance, he could hear the ambulance wailing, getting closer. He would worry about the man when he could. Right now, Wrath needed him.
"Too much wrath is never a good thing. As we both know. I'm sorry. You've got it all concentrated into you and you shouldn't have to deal with it. That isn't natural. But people feeling wrath is." He sighed. "I was hoping Patience would be able to calm you down, but I guess he makes it worse."
"Makes it worse for me," Wrath admitted. "Usually makes it better for other people unless Greed delivers them to my door. Patience focuses it all inward. It's fine. I'll be fine."
It was a lie, but Wrath was finding it hard to care. She was what she was. Why fight it?
"No, you won't," George said, sighing again and hugging her. "We've got to find something to help, you can't just keep going on like this. It isn't fair to you. Or anyone else."
Wrath let George hug her but then she pulled away, moving out of reach. "You want to find something to change who I am? That'll happen. You good guys are so fucking stupid sometimes."
George rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "No, I want to find something that can calm you down so you don't put your sex buddies in the hospital or hurting yourself."
"Fine, you keep me updated on that, okay?" Wrath said, taking another step backwards. "It'll give you something to do. You know...I know you understand how it feels to have so much rage you want to break something." She indicated his hand for proof. "And you probably know what it's like to hate yourself too. But every time you feel something else- Every time you fuck your little husband or laugh with your ridiculously idiotic brothers or any time you feel peaceful, you just remember I can't feel any of that. So fuck you wanting to fix me to make yourself feel better."
George raised an eyebrow, glared, and stepped forward. "And fuck you for wanting to believe that there's nothing that can make it better. You aren't happy now. You want things to be fixed."
He was fighting back now. Wrath liked that.
"Fuck you in your fucking goody-two-shoes ass!" she hissed back at him. "Of course I want things to be fixed, but they can't be! So fine, you were goddamn right. And there's nothing you can do about it! Fucker." The last insult was just added for emphasis.
"Listen, you violent bitch, you're going to let me help you and you're going to deal with it," George said, hands on his hips. From several dozen feet behind them, George could hear the paramedics coming in and out of the building. "And then you're going to be happy and not put anyone else in the hospital unless they really deserve it."
"Well fucking fine!" Wrath yelled back. "Fine, you goddamn asshole. Fucking fix me!"
"FINE!" George shouted. "I WILL!"
And then he had to take a few steps away to avoid punching her. He was pretty sure that wasn't part of the healing process.
Once he was calmer, he said, "Okay, Patience is out. What about one of the other Virtues? Have any of them had a, uh, calming effect?"
"It has the effect of me wanting to kill them," Wrath said through gritted teeth. "The only person who can really calm me down is Sloth and only because he makes me feel too lazy to kill anyone."
George tilted his head. Hmm. A lazy Wrath seemed a lot less dangerous to the world and herself then the standard version of Wrath. And if she stabbed Sloth to death, he'd just come back.
"Is he looking for a roommate, by any chance?"