Revenge is a dish best served cold. Who: Faith, Emorie and Open to all Multiple Threads What: Hunting Why: It's Faith When: Late night on Friday (sorry for plot please pretend) edited Where: Streets of Town - all over Rating: It's Faith - R
In her head she could hear her mother's stilettos clicking on the cement. The closer she came, the louder the clicking. A young girl stood shaking in dirty tennis shoes, knees skinned from rough play. Most probably a black eye from fighting on the back streets of Boston, the place Faith always called home.
Next came the pulling of the pigtails, the cigarette burns followed by an occasional slap in the face.
Faith sat straight up in bed, fine beads of sweat clinging to her. Running her fingers through her dark mane, she knew where her nightmare came from - it came from the feeling of lack of self worth. She thought about calling Angel, he'd listen to her all night long. It's not as if he slept.
She need to kill and then she needed to screw. Half dressed she went and knocked on Em's door.
"Hunt - five minutes." Faith had some de-stressing to do.