Lennon.

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January 18th, 2021




Gender: Female

Age: 26
Country: United States

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November 22, 2020


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01/17/2021 10:42 PM 

highway to hell | pt one



“See ya later Luce,”
her voice was soft as she called over her shoulder, waving goodbye to her remaining coworkers at the Chick-n-Strip before heading out the back door, desperate for an escape. Despite loving her job, today was hell - the crowd was less than enthusiastic all day, her private dances weren’t tipped as well as they normally would have been, and the food was awful. Lennon felt drained, so many hours spent on her feet left her body aching, and all she wanted to do was go home, pour herself a glass of wine, and snuggle with Lilah for a few hours to ease the tension she held in her shoulders. The short walk from the building to her car seemed to drag more than usual, though maybe it was just fatigue seeping through her bones. Sighing, her hand reached into her purse, pulling out her keys as she reached the vehicle.

“Lennon,” a male voice called out to her, startling her enough for her to fumble with the keychain.

Her eyes tried to focus on the silhouette on the opposite side of the car, but his features were masked by a bandana. Admittedly, she was nervous. Anxiety ran through her core, her voice shaky as she replied. “Hi.. I’m off the clock now, I’m sorry.” It wasn’t unlike men to hang around for the dancers, hoping that just maybe they’d get a chance to go home with one of them. But Lennon was always weary - the men in Limbo weren’t exactly… pleasant.

The man continued to approach her car, her keys still fumbling in her hand until she dropped them, cursing herself under her breath as she reached down to grab them. This allowed him enough time to run around the car - closing the space between them, his torso now pressed to Lennon’s back as she stood. “Lennon,” he said again, his breath hot on her neck. She would remember that voice from anywhere - Peter. Peter was a regular at the Chick-n-Strip, one that frequently bought dances from Lennon. He was far from charming, often smelled like cigarettes and puke mixed with an atrocious amount of b.o, and got a little too handsy more often than not, his fingers always seeming to ‘slip’ into the seams of Lennon’s bikini bottoms. Lennon had requested that he no longer purchase dances from her due to how uncomfortable he made her feel, and when he found out he was less than thrilled. He had been stalking her ever since.

Lennon’s voice seemed to fail her as something pressed to her back, her anxiety heightened when she realized it was a gun. She had been in enough situations to know the size and shape of the barrel, and suddenly a lump was in her throat. She tried to find words, tried to scream - but nothing happened.

“Lennon. I’m going to reach down and grab your keys from your hand to unlock your door. When I do, get inside. I’m going to get in the back behind you. Understood?”

“Peter, I -”

“UNDERSTOOD?” His voice was raised, gun pushing harder against her back. A warning.

“U-understood.” In that moment, Lennon felt her life flash in front of her. Lilah’s sweet face. Harley’s slobbery kisses. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to them yet. She jumped as the man reached down and touched her hand, his fingers lingering a little too long before he finally took the keys from her. Her eyes followed his movements, watching as he unlocked the car. She half considered getting in and taking off right away, but she didn’t want to risk it - not with a gun pointed to her back.

“I’m going to open the door. I want you to get in, and start the ignition.”

Lennon allowed him space to move around her, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. When the door was open, she did what she was told, getting into the front seat, sticking the key in the ignition. Peter was quick enough to close the door and get in behind her, the gun now pointed at her side, low enough for it to be hidden while she drove around. “P-Peter.. Please don’t do this.. I-”

“Lennon, shut up. Put the car in drive, and head north. Make a right at the light.” His voice was stern, and as much as Lennon wanted to put up a fight.. She couldn’t. Hesitantly, Lennon obliged, taking her foot off the brake. The car started moving, slowly, until the gun pressed into her side. “I really don’t want to use this, please just follow directions.”

“I-.. I’m sorry,” her voice was quiet, foot pressing down on the accelerator. “Where next?”

“Drive towards Rapacity. You’ll pull off the highway when I tell you to.”

They sat in silence for the rest of the ride - Peter’s gun still pressed to Lennon’s side, his body hovering the seat behind her. She wanted to slam on the brakes, send him flying through the windshield - but she couldn’t risk a misfire. The lump in her throat had multiplied, and her heart raced a mile a minute, and she knew that with every mile driven further from Limbo and civilization, was a mile closer to death. And yet, she still drove - praying to whatever God she could that she would make it out alive.

01/16/2021 04:37 PM 

battle scars | drabble

Fingers brush against soft skin, heat rising between her thighs. She tries to ignore it, but the tension between them could be cut with a goddamn knife and suddenly, she’s like putty in his hands. Molding herself into something he could be proud of - in and out of the bedroom, shaping herself into his perfect little play thing, his obedient ‘little girl’. At her core, she knows this is where she was meant to be - her fingers through his hair, his lips on her neck. They say nothing, but the silence says so much.

‘I need you.’
‘Please don’t go.’
‘Stay with me tonight.’

She knows that time is fragile, and this moment could pass them by just as suddenly as it comes. Her anxiety is rising, but so is the warmth in her stomach as his hands find their way to her backside, rough pads leaving goosebumps where they once were. It’s only then when she relaxes, under his touch, under his spell.

They moved as if it were the last time they would see each other like this- their skin left bruised and battered from battles they had no choice but to fight on their own. She knew that he would be leaving in the morning, and they’d act like it never happened, and things would be left unsaid. He would find solace in another, just as he had many times before, and they'd repeat the cycle until one of them breaks under pressure. But  for now, they clung to each other, knuckles torn and bloody, until the sun rose over the horizon.

And then, she was alone

01/15/2021 02:06 PM 

the unknown.

Together, they sat quietly - her legs draped over his lap, his hand trailing her thigh. Her eyes are glued to his face, and a grin is spread across her lips, and for a moment, all of her worries are washed away. They’ve shared this routine for months now; he’d invite her to spend the night, she’d watch as he slept, and in the morning, they’d move in silence until it was time to go. Their smile’s often said enough to each other that they knew where they stood.

But the unknown scared her. In her heart, she knew that she couldn’t live like this forever. She needed the comfort of certainty, of knowing that he’d still be there when she woke up the next day. She never found the courage to ask him if he loved her, but when he muttered it in the heat of the moment months earlier, she believed him.

She held onto those brief moments, the moments where she knew he wanted this as much as she did. She breathed life into those drunken words and soft touches. She showered them with hope, because in her dreams, they’d grow into full blown confessions of his love. But the silence was deafening sometimes, and the fear of reality sinks in, and the unknown screams at her until she’s worn herself thin. And so, she sits patiently with words hung on her lips, waiting for the right moment to tell him she was in love.

01/15/2021 02:04 PM 

the end. | drabble MMM

part one. * please read part one first before continuing! 


The show went better than I ever thought it could. Even though it’s been three years since the last time I had been on stage, it had felt like I never left. The crowd cheered and sang along to every line, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was home.

Once the fans piled out of the venue, and it was just me, Teddy, and the band, I cried. I couldn’t tell if I was just severely overwhelmed, or if it was the alcohol that now warmed my body, but I couldn’t stop.

“Don’t be such a baby, Sonny,” Teddy teased as he slapped my arm. It made me laugh, and I shoved his arm away in a playful manner as my free hand reached up to wipe away the last pieces of evidence that I had in fact, been crying.

“Shut up,” I muttered with another laugh, allowing myself to decompress for a moment. “I’m just.. Really happy, dude. I didn’t think anyone still cared.” It was a confession that Teddy had heard many times before. When he first tried to get me to write music again, I swore up and down that no one gave a sh*t about Hudson King and his music career. For a while, I believed it. I had assumed that once I lost myself in my demons, others would forget about the good that I had once created. Being on stage, soaking in the energy of the crowd - it reminded me of a time where I felt alive.

Teddy offered a sympathetic smile, before walking to the side of the stage, pulling a case of beer off of one of the podiums. “Here, you look like you need one,” he said with a laugh, pulling a can out of the cardboard box, holding it out in my direction. “You killed it, Sonny.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours had passed, and my body swayed with each step as I made my way towards the back of the venue. Teddy followed closely behind with a few groupies in tow, and the four of us were headed home to do only god knows what. I knew that I shouldn’t be driving, but out of the group of us, I was the most sober, and waiting for a taxi in Covetous Valley at this hour was not something I’d want to live through. We decided to part ways - the girls in one car, Teddy and I in another; I would have offered to drive all of us, but the backseat in my car was piled high with equipment, and I couldn’t be bothered to move it. Keys in hand, I waited as Teddy kissed his nightly trophy goodbye, and laughed at his promise to see her in a few minutes. “Teddy, you’ll literally see her in less than a half hour. LET’S GO!” I shouted, Teddy’s middle finger extending in return as he kissed the blonde one more time.

I tried my best to stay focused, my hands resting at ‘10’ and ‘2’ like we’re told to do when learning to drive. My vision was blurred, but not enough for me to be concerned. Admittedly, I had driven intoxicated more times than I could count - it was part of the reason I went to rehab. It wasn’t something I was proud of. I exhaled a sigh as Teddy finally stepped into the car, and I tried my best to fake a smile. I was nervous. “You okay?” Teddy’s voice caught my attention and shook me from the overthinking state I had allowed myself to succumb to.

“I’m fine, sorry. Just spaced out a bit.” I turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Fifteen minutes, Hudson. It’s just fifteen minutes. You’ll be fine, I tried reassuring myself, but the feeling deep within my gut told me this wasn’t the best idea. Instead, I ignored it, took the car out of park, and let it roll out of the parking space, my foot barely touching the gas pedal.

“Man, tonight was awesome,” Teddy’s words slurred, his grin spread from ear to ear.

I tried to match his enthusiasm, but my heart raced as we hit the freeway, the speed of the car creeping up on me with each passing second. I should slow down, I thought to myself. The speedometer inched closer to 100mph.  “Heh, yeah it was awesome. I can’t wait to-”

My words were cut off as my foot hit the brakes, the tires screeching against the wet pavement. I lost control of the car, and over correcting it caused the vehicle to flip. I tried counting how many times, but lost track after three. My brain was spinning, and my hand’s were glued to the steering wheel, refusing to move. After what seemed like forever, the car finally came to a rest. My vision is still blurred, and my head is pounding. I can feel warmth trickling down my face, and it’s only when I reach up that I realize I’m covered in blood. “T-Teddy?” I finally say something, looking over to the passenger seat. Teddy’s face is covered in blood, his body laid limp in the seat. I can’t tell if he’s breathing, but I panic. “Teddy! T-Teddy… wake up, man…” I say as I shake his arm. I try unbuckling his seatbelt, but it won’t budge. “TEDDY!” I yell, though my voice isn’t loud enough for anyone else to hear.

Frantically, I shake him more. “Teddy please!! Wake up, dude.. Please..” I realize I’m sobbing, but I can’t tell if the adrenaline has worn off, or if it’s the sudden realization that I could have killed my best friend. I try everything to wake him up, but he won’t move. My heart is racing, the ringing in my ears grows louder.

And then suddenly, everything went black.

01/15/2021 02:02 PM 

grief | mini drabble

Loss has a funny way of changing people - you grow a thicker skin to shield you from the wounds that are left unseen, you prioritize the ones you love over your own needs, and you learn to cherish every tiny detail about a person, no matter how unimportant it may seem to others. You study their mannerisms for so long, and somewhere along the way, they become a part of you, and the realization brings a smile to your face.

But loss also has a way of knocking you off your feet, leaving you scatter-brained and breathless. You suddenly search for any ounce of that person in everyone else you meet. This one has his laugh, that one has his smile, and the one over there shares the same sense of humor he did. You’re left yearning for anything that reminds you of the home you once had, of the people you once loved, of the people that left too soon. You dig and dig, until there’s nothing left to search for, and it works - for the most part. You get a little bit of satisfaction knowing that there’s pieces of everyone you’ve ever loved left behind in the people that you’re lucky enough to still know.

But then the day fades, and it hits you all over again - they’re never coming back.

And so, the cycle continues. You wake up and start the day with a cup of coffee, and look over to the empty chair across from you, wondering what life would be like if they were still here. You look over to your child, and wonder if they question where their daddy went and why he doesn’t love her anymore.  You try your best to live life like you once had, but you search for him in everyone you cross paths with, disappointment seeping through your veins when you no longer find him. The grief comes in waves, but the ache of losing someone is always there; it demands to be felt, screaming at you until you’re left screaming too.

 

01/13/2021 03:27 PM 

the beginning of the end. | drabble MMM


The Roxy Room - it was where all musicians in Malvada went to try and catch their big break into the music scene, and in most cases, failed. I was one of the lucky ones, though. I had been coming to the Roxy since I was old enough to do things on my own. It was the place I had my first kiss, the place I had my first beer ( underaged, of course ), and the place where I lost my virginity. I ate, slept, and breathed at the Roxy, and when it was time for me to put my music out there, I had no doubt in my mind where I would start.

My career picked up a lot quicker than I had anticipated and by the age of 21, I was living out my dream. Playing shows every week, all the booze and cocaine I could want, enough groupies for there to be an ongoing rotation of who I saw each night. By 23, I had a multimillion dollar record deal.

I struggled with fame for a long time; I let it get to my head, and shortly after my 25th birthday, I lost everything I had worked so hard for. I found myself in and out of rehab, succumbing to the demons that lived within me, continuously injecting myself with drugs to keep them ( and myself ) level headed.

The only constant I had ever known, was Teddy.

Teddy was the epitome of a ‘right-hand man’. Where I went, he went. Where he went, I went. He never questioned my loyalty, just as I never questioned his. Teddy was the first friend I had ever made, and when he saw I was struggling, he did his best to support me through it. He dropped me off at Crescent Springs Rehabilitation in Rapacity, and picked me up three weeks later when I checked myself out, no questions asked. When I needed a place to stay after leaving my dads, he opened his door for me without hesitation. When I gave up on my career, he pushed me to keep going. And because of him, I’m where I am today.

In a few hours, after too much time away, I’ll make my comeback to the Roxy. The show sold out in less than a half hour, and to be honest, I’m terrified. I feel like I forgot how to perform, and my anxiety is through the f***ing roof.

I try to drown out my feelings with another beer, the liquid coating my throat with satisfaction when there’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” I yell, taking one more sip before setting the can down.

Teddy walks through the door, grin spread from ear to ear. “You ready for tonight? There’s SO many people out there, dude. Like, SO many,” he plopped down on the couch across from me, and I could tell he was just as excited as I was. I watched as his slender fingers reached for the guitar he’d use on stage, admiring the way he turned it by ear so effortlessly. “Hey Sonny?”

I lifted my head to meet his attention. “Yeah, I'm ready," I lied. "What’s up, boss?”

“I want you to have this guitar. To remember the night.” He offered another cheeky grin, fingers strumming a couple of chords.

Truthfully, I was taken back. That guitar meant everything to Teddy; it was a gift from his grandfather before he passed, and I swear, Teddy took the damn thing everywhere. I couldn’t accept it. “Nah man, that’s yours. It’s important to you,” I said, shaking my head as I took another sip of beer.

“It’s just a guitar, Hudson,” he said, shoulders shrugging. “Besides, we used it to write your new album. I think it holds some sentimental value to you.”

“You’re an idiot,” I laughed, exhaling a sigh. Only Teddy would think writing an album was more imporant than the sentimental value it held to himself. “I’ll think about it, alright?”

“Whatever,” he said, shrugged shoulders settling back into place. “Pass me a beer, will ya? I have first show jitters.”tr

01/12/2021 07:47 PM 

hudson king. mmm



Hudson sat quietly as he stared at the guitar in front of him, a glass filled to the brim with whiskey brushing his lips. The liquid burned as it invaded his esophagus, but he accepted it eagerly, and his body relaxed as the warmth settled in his stomach. It had been six months since the accident - six months since the last time he picked up that very same guitar to play a show at The Roxy Room. He stared at it every day, watching as it collected dust. He would pass by every time he left his room, but couldn’t find it in him to play a tune.

The accident was still a blur for the most part, one that he tried to desperately erase from his memory, but the details came in flashes. The sound of his car’s brakes screeching, the flashing lights that nearly blinded him as he came too, the blood trickling down his head… He could still hear the screams, though he could never differentiate if they were his own or someone else's. To his right, his best friend laid limp in the car seat. Hudson tried to reach for him, but the further he reached out, the further Teddy slipped away.

The cause of the crash was still unknown to the general public - it was considered a ‘freak accident’ to most. But Sonny knew that wasn’t true. The empty beer cans in his back seat said otherwise.

Hudson King was a murderer.

At this very moment, he should be sitting in a jail cell.

Instead, he sat in his bedroom, just like he had for the last six months, letting the guilt eat away at him with each passing minute. The guitar, a gift from Teddy, would continue to collect dust, just as he would continue to drown his sorrows in the very thing that caused them.

[ This blog post is private ]

01/10/2021 08:37 PM 

escaping death | drabble

The gun feels heavy in my hands - as if it weighed a thousand pounds. The once cool metal now burned against my palm, and I almost threw the damn thing away, cursing myself in an exhaled breath. It was the first time I had ever held a gun, and the adrenaline that rushed through my body was exhilarating enough to make my hands shake ( maybe it was the fear, but I had hoped that would subside ). In a few hours, I would be free from all of my problems. In a few hours, my father would be dead.

There was a lump in my throat that didn’t seem to go away, and the more I swallowed, the more apparent it became. I knew that this was risky, but it had to be done. I spent months of my life being tossed around like a ragdoll, used at his expense, and if I didn’t get out now, I’d be dead in another month or two. I couldn’t wait that long - I wanted to live.

Making myself comfortable on my bed, I tucked the weapon under a pillow, leaving it within arms reach for when the opportunity presented itself. If I knew my father, he’d be walking in the house in no less than thirty minutes, go straight to the fridge, drink at LEAST half a bottle of whiskey in one sitting, and make his way to my room. It was a routine that I had fallen accustomed to. The silence allowed me to think over the plan thoroughly, but also allowed me to grieve the relationship we once had.

My father wasn’t always a monster; when I was a child, he was my best friend. Anywhere Walter went, so did I. Things only started to change when my mom got sick, and suddenly daddy’s little girl became daddy’s favorite punching bag ( my mom had become too weak to take his hits so his frustrations were taken out on me ). My once favorite person quickly became my mortal enemy, and eventually, when my mom died, things escalated, and I was left to clean up my own blood more than once. He didn’t care, either. He laughed at my pain, told me to ‘suck it up’ and act like a big girl. And most of the time, I did. But I couldn’t handle it anymore. Walter Grey was the f u c k i n g devil, and I wanted to send him back to hell.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walter’s footsteps grew louder as they got closer to my room, and suddenly any plan I had was tossed out the window. A shaky hand wrapped around the handle of the gun, still concealed by the pillow on my bed.

“Lennon! Get your ass out here!” I could tell he was angry, but I stayed still, refusing to move. “Lennon!!” It grew louder, and suddenly Walter was standing in my room, his strides moving in closer to where I sat. “When I call you, you f***i-”

A loud ‘BANG’ surrounded the air around us, echoed off the walls, and cut off his words. Warm liquid splattered across my face, the deep crimson taking me by surprise. I don’t even remember pulling the trigger, but the hole in his chest had made it apparent that I had. I felt frozen in fear as I watched  Walter stumble forward, his hand clutching the open wound. I pulled the trigger again, this time to make sure he wouldn’t survive.

My eyes glued to his face as he fell to the floor, blood pooling around his limp body, and only then did I scream.

01/10/2021 05:03 PM 

Free. | drabble

2018

The quiet seemed louder than usual.

The streets of Limbo were empty for the most part, Lennon and a few other patrons scattered amongst the sidewalks, their feet taking them wherever they had pleased. She kept to herself, only offering a half assed smile to strangers if she passed by. It was her first week in Malvada, and she was still getting used to navigating the towns, still unsure of how she even ended up somewhere no one seemed to know of.

She had hoped that a fresh start would erase the images of her father’s dead body from her mind. Or at least, the image of her hand wrapped around the handle of the gun that had killed him. But sometimes, it seemed like the nightmares followed her now more than ever. He had it coming, Lennon reminded herself, but the guilt still ate at her.

Lennon had spent months, hell - even years, taking abuse from her father. Mentally, physically, and most of the time.. Sexually. She became a shell of a human; her once bubbly personality refused to shine, and she often thought of ways to kill herself to save herself from the misery she ensued on a daily basis. She had come close once or twice, a handful of pills landing her in the hospital. But Lennon always 'miraculously' pulled through ( that's what the doctors had said, anyway ), and was set right back into her own form of purgatory.

The gun was hidden in her father’s stuff, locked away in a safe in the back of his room. The code had always been the same: 5-3-6-6, LENN. The irony made Lennon laugh. When she was born, she had her daddy wrapped around her finger, but then life happened, and her mother died, and her father started drinking more. And now.. Here they were. Taking the gun out of the safe, she checked the chamber, making sure there were enough bullets to get the job done. The thought sent a shiver down the girl’s spine, but she knew there was no time to change her mind. 



Limbo held an escape from the life she had once lived, though she couldn't escape the sound of his screams from that fatal night, or the sound of the gun... They played like an old vhs tape that would rewind itself, and start all over again. But, she was free. The streets gave her new places to explore, the people were friendly (aside from a few - she had an unfortunate run in with Delia Deschaine her first night in town), and for the first time in her life, Lennon was thankful to be alive. 

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