RIO'S FEBRUARY E-ZINE
KILL THE PRINCESS EDITION
By Ian Westacott
A brief editorial announcement...
The RIO E-Zine would like to welcome our newest editor, Breanna Sieracki. She's done an amazing job of working on the E-Zine while I furiously try to finish my novel before the deadline. If it weren't for her, we'd have one exploded writer on our hands (similar to the image above). So thanks Breanna, you're awesome!
In other news - the apocalypse for this year has been avoided. The Reality Is Optional Creative Kids' Programs (this includes RIO and Pen & Panel) have finally come up with a name for the year. As many of you may know, RIO always names the year. This is because no apocalypses have ever been predicted in, say, George - or whatever. We offer this free world saving service every year, and, you're welcome. Anyway, this year is a girl, and that girl's name is Josephine!
So Happy New Josephine everyone and have a great February.
- Kim Firmston
In other news - the apocalypse for this year has been avoided. The Reality Is Optional Creative Kids' Programs (this includes RIO and Pen & Panel) have finally come up with a name for the year. As many of you may know, RIO always names the year. This is because no apocalypses have ever been predicted in, say, George - or whatever. We offer this free world saving service every year, and, you're welcome. Anyway, this year is a girl, and that girl's name is Josephine!
So Happy New Josephine everyone and have a great February.
- Kim Firmston
NOW ON WITH THE SHOW...
The Princess and The Dumbest One in the Land
by Peter Doerksen
By Peter
"I must converse with the dumbest one in the land," said the princess.
Later that day . . .
"Anesthetic is a tasty type of juice," said the dumbest person.
"Yeah! You're right!" said the princess.
As the princess went unconscious, the dumbest person thought she was dead. "Defibrillator!" said the dumbest guy, then plugged her into a wall.
Later that day . . .
"Anesthetic is a tasty type of juice," said the dumbest person.
"Yeah! You're right!" said the princess.
As the princess went unconscious, the dumbest person thought she was dead. "Defibrillator!" said the dumbest guy, then plugged her into a wall.
Snow White Crossover by Dylan Curle
So, my memory is vague. When Hans crossed over into Snow White's story, he took the place of the prince, who should have been resurrecting Snow White (whatever that guy's name was). So, Snow White had eatten the apple. Hans leaned down to kiss her and bring her back to life. At this moment Snow White suddenly vomited half-digested portions of apple into Hans' mouth. The poison effected Hans, and he died. Both of them then vomit until their stomachs are flopping outside of their mouths. Hans' last sight is Snow White's dead brown eyes before he fades away.
by Teighan Jones
The Kindest Princess in the Land by Jaz Quon
Princess Josephine was supposedly the kindest, fairest princess in the land. She was polite, sweet to everyone she came across as very very ladylike. Well sort of lady like. If there was one thing that Josephine loved more than dresses and princess, it was food. She would sit down in front of a full buffet table by herself and clear up every crumb. She would inhale entire plates of potatoes, wolf down full roast chickens, and wash it all down with jugs and jugs of water and wine. And she was in now way polite about it. She would spill food all over herself, chew with her mouth open, and not slow down until her plate was clean. But none of the servants minded, for afterwards she would smile at them and apologize for the mess. And who could be mad at such a lovely sweet lady like that?
Princess Josephine was a pig, and it was her fatal flaw in her near perfect demeanor, and this time it was really her fatal flaw. One particular Tuesday evening, Josephine sat down at her table, same as usual. The servants bowed and closed the doors behind them. And then she began.
She swilled down the bowl of corn, stuffed her face with roast beef, and spilled Cesar salad dressing all over her beautiful golden gown. It was . . . rather normal actually. However, when she reached the dessert course, she inhaled the chocolate cake - which the chef had accidentally made far too dry - and choked. Having already drained the several pitchers of juice and ordering the servants to leave her to her meal for at least an hour. She was left to choke on what was once her favorite treat. Her own love of food was in the end her killer.
And that is the story of the kind, charming, gluttonous princess Josephine.
Princess Josephine was a pig, and it was her fatal flaw in her near perfect demeanor, and this time it was really her fatal flaw. One particular Tuesday evening, Josephine sat down at her table, same as usual. The servants bowed and closed the doors behind them. And then she began.
She swilled down the bowl of corn, stuffed her face with roast beef, and spilled Cesar salad dressing all over her beautiful golden gown. It was . . . rather normal actually. However, when she reached the dessert course, she inhaled the chocolate cake - which the chef had accidentally made far too dry - and choked. Having already drained the several pitchers of juice and ordering the servants to leave her to her meal for at least an hour. She was left to choke on what was once her favorite treat. Her own love of food was in the end her killer.
And that is the story of the kind, charming, gluttonous princess Josephine.
Nazi Army Princess by Keagan Longson
Once upon a time there was a Nazi army princess in Berlin waiting for the Russian forces to approach her protected palace with MG42s and MG 34s. As she was just waiting there, three Americans sneaked up the on the guards and either shot them with suppressors or back-stabbed them.
"Zey are breaking in zeis veautiful palace!" the princess yelled.
Of course that didn't stop her from eating bacon and donuts, and drinking red wine.
The Americans finally reached her, and though they found her too beautiful, but they shot her anyway.
"Zey are breaking in zeis veautiful palace!" the princess yelled.
Of course that didn't stop her from eating bacon and donuts, and drinking red wine.
The Americans finally reached her, and though they found her too beautiful, but they shot her anyway.
A Message by George Doerksen
"Quickly! We mist find the princess," the knight in the shining armor stood back while the charming prince broke down the tower door. The evil servants of darkness ran forward to fight, but the brave men ran them through and slew them.
They climbed up the rickety staircase, trampling up them two at a time. Slaying a new group of foot soldiers. They chared into the evil wizard's chamber. The wizard leaped up and threw a fireball towards the brave rescuers. The prince ran to the side and dodged back to lop off the wizard's head. The wizard crumpled to the floor. "This is the last door," the prince muttered, as he kicked it down. Inside was the beautiful princess, sitting on her prisoner's cot. The prince ran toward her and stepped right in front of her. "Your sister escaped. She pulled out her tooth and cut the guards throats with it," he told the princess. "What is wrong with you?" And with that the prince lopped off the head of the useless princess. "Lets go men" The prince and his knights mad their dashing escape.
They climbed up the rickety staircase, trampling up them two at a time. Slaying a new group of foot soldiers. They chared into the evil wizard's chamber. The wizard leaped up and threw a fireball towards the brave rescuers. The prince ran to the side and dodged back to lop off the wizard's head. The wizard crumpled to the floor. "This is the last door," the prince muttered, as he kicked it down. Inside was the beautiful princess, sitting on her prisoner's cot. The prince ran toward her and stepped right in front of her. "Your sister escaped. She pulled out her tooth and cut the guards throats with it," he told the princess. "What is wrong with you?" And with that the prince lopped off the head of the useless princess. "Lets go men" The prince and his knights mad their dashing escape.
By Emily Firmston
The Flaming Zombie-Were-Princess! By Andrew Finch
Full moon, the time of the wolf. When royalty turns in on itself when the Were Princes turns on another, and FEASTS ON THEIR CORPSE! Only to have dark magic twist and change causing the ZOMBIE PRINCESS to arise! And, the devourer becomes the devoured., as the ZOMBIE PRINCESS takes revenge! But, in the scuffle, a candle stick is knocked over, and the castle, nay , the ENTIRE CITY BURNED!
MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
by Andrew Finch
Insurance Scam By: Coelan Nicol
Cinderella was having a lovely picnic on the cliffs by the sea, with her Prince. She went over to the cliffs to watch the sunset. Next thing she knew she was falling into the salty water, seaweed filled her nose and her fancy dress was soaking in water, dragging her underwater. Her eyes stung as she opened them to see sharks with lasers for eyes. The sharks fired their eyes at Cinderella as she scrambled onto the beach to find that she was surrounded by 8 foot vampire bats, with chainsaws for teeth. Cinderella was so scared of them she ran back to the water, and died of the laser shark hoard. The Prince them collected $250,000 life insurance.
Princess No. 8492 By: Emma Train
Quill scribbling furiously, Princess No. 8492 was just adding the finishing touches to her letter to the 23 Prince Charming who was (most probably) going to reject her-but she doesn't know that, so lets not kill her false hope early. She gazed thoughtfully out the window at her tower trying to come up with the perfect sentence to conclude her love letter. She was just going to dip her quill into the pot of ink in her hand when some random old guy jumped in through her window screaming at the top of his lungs "I'm Mr. Williebuckets!" Princess No. 8492 jumped, gasping as Mr. Williebuckets ran towards her, dead squirrel in hand. The ink spilled across her face come running down her throat. "Oh, your dying!" Mr. Williebuckets announces "that's nice." He the proceeded to jump out the window (because he thought he was Rapunzel), leaving Princess No. 8492 to choke to death on the ink she accidentally inhaled. The dead squirrel Mr. W have brought was apparently not dead and proceeded to crawl down the princess throat and make its nest in her stomach.
THE END
THE END
By Aimee Clarke
Monster by Ana Malick
Once upon a time their was a beautiful princess, her father was greedy so the princess works at a doughnut shop. She was very nice, but she had a terrible problem. She would sneak into the shop at night and eat the doughnuts and drink the grease. She started gaining weight and kept it up for years. She eventually became so fat, she could not fit through the door. As she ran towards the castle to confess to the king she bumped into a tower, the tower came tumbling down on her head knocking her out. Her Prince to-be came to the castle, seeing her he said "It's a monster! I must save my princess!" He stabbed the girl, finally realizing it was her when the sword was halfway in her eye. She screamed, letting him fall in her mouth and they all lived HAPPILY EVER AFTER! ♥ ♥
Death By Sonic
by Em Williamson
Killing the Cliché by Aimee Clarke
Hans walked into the room like a huge jerk would, arms crossed. He looked at the girl in the pink dress names Aurora. Hans called her name and the ginger turned around, tears welling in her purple eyes. "You came back for me!" She yelled with hope. Hans kneeled down and brushed Sleeping Beauty's hair out of her eyes. "Of course I did. And only a cliché can break the spell" Hans leaned in to be a jerk and not kiss her when a shrill shriek shattered the stained glass in the castle fireplace room. Wings and teeth blurred together and ate the jerk, Hans, and the helpless example of sexism, Aurora. The red wyvern stood triumphantly a top the rubble, bellowing out his name, Odahviing, and his Heavy Armor increased to 100 and he leveled up.
By Aimee Clarke
Poison by Teighan Jones
A lovely princess slaves over a cauldron, a special potion for her prince. Bubbling green and nauseous. Of course, the potion was to be his demise, a mix of poison and more poison.
He returns and takes a seat, talking to his journal. The Princess offers him a drink and the two sit, each with a cup in hand.
They take a sip, the Princess waits for the Prince to kneel over but he does not.
Suddenly she feels sick, burning inside. She has consumed the wrong potion. Screaming, she falls. The Prince does not help, simply toughs as her vision fads and she breaths her last breath.
He returns and takes a seat, talking to his journal. The Princess offers him a drink and the two sit, each with a cup in hand.
They take a sip, the Princess waits for the Prince to kneel over but he does not.
Suddenly she feels sick, burning inside. She has consumed the wrong potion. Screaming, she falls. The Prince does not help, simply toughs as her vision fads and she breaths her last breath.
By Em Williamson
Kill The Princess By Alexis Kelly
Once upon a time, yes another Princess story. There was a Princess poisoned only a kill could cure (of course), A 'Sleeping Beauty' / 'Snow White' but sadly all the men gathered in town and the Princes here talking they decided kissing basically dead ladies...is kind of gross. So she lay there unconscious but as you should know, one could not survive long without water. So this pretentious Princess with her need of someone to kiss her while she's login there was a bit thirsty. Both for men, and water. Next day her thirst became unbearable as the Princes taunted her putting water in her face, and the THIRD day she died because she was so thirsty. It's kind of her fault. Honey moral of the story is don't take free food from creepy people. Most me don't like kissing unconscious bodies.
by Alexis Kelly
Click this to see some REAL WOMEN who were way better than any clichè princesses. (warning: some iffy language)
By Aimee Clarke
Numb by Emma Train
He could feel the patients’ eyes staring at him through the walls as he drifted down the hallway, the too-bright fluorescent bulbs shining above him and the too-white walls leering at him, taunting him. Daring him. (Personification) Everything was silent except for the labored breathing of the people behind the grayish doors and the distant sound of screaming from the bottom floor.
Despite the many attempts to sterilize the infirmary, the air stank of death and sickness, like a mass grave in the making. (Simile)
He just kept walking, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the nurses filing out of one of the blank rooms on the right. One of them followed him as he brushed past, asking him where he was going. He didn’t answer, instead just picked up his pace, turning a sharp left before he realized she was still following him. She matched his speed, even as he slowed when he arrived at his destination.
He paused, staring at the off-white door until he felt bile rise in his throat, eyes skimming over the words scrawled on the whiteboard suspended against the wood -
Matthews, Valerie
Status: Near death
Focusing on her name and nothing else, he allowed himself to be dragged back to that evening - the night his honor had forsaken him - for what seemed like the millionth time that week. (Personification and hyperbole)
They were walking home leisurely after a lovely dinner together, admiring the stars like jewels against the massive expanse of black silk stretching above them, the gentle autumn breeze at their backs. (Simile and metaphor) Her eyes twinkled in the moonlight, her hair gleaming like liquid gold. (Simile)
He could still remember back when they were still in grade school, when he’d chase her around the playground and tease her about her pigtails. She would still wear them sometimes, just as a memory, and her hair would still reach past her shoulders even when it was tied back.
They’d always been friends, for as long as he could remember. Their mothers had been in an embroidery class together, and he and Valerie were always forced to play together in the little sandbox outside while they waited for their parents to finish. She would say that he had cooties, and he would poke fun at her for always wearing frilly, girly dresses. Eventually, they warmed up to each other, and while they still had fought sometimes, they stayed together all the years leading up to this day. College was hard, but they both majoring in journalism so they had most of their classes together to make up for -
A scraping sound from the alleyway ahead of them startled him from his thoughts. (Onomatopoeia)
“Dusky? What is that?” Val asked, glancing up at him with wide eyes and clinging to his arm like her life depended on it. (Idiom)
His real name was Evan, but she called him ‘Dusky’ because they would always sit around and talk until dusk at their favourite ice cream parlor, way back in eighth grade. They still did, sometimes, only now they didn’t have to run to make it home in time for dinner.
“I don’t know, Val,” he answered, “it’s probably just the wind.” (Idiom)
They kept walking, assured that there was nothing there. Still, as they strolled past the alley, he couldn’t help but risk a glance down the narrow street. Shadows clung to the walls like spiders dangling from their webs, overlapping to create an endless void, a black abyss that you could never escape. (Simile and metaphor) As far as he could tell, there was nothing there; however, he thought he saw the distinctive glint of metal, but quickly dismissed the thought as the lid of a trash can balancing precariously on its waste basket.
Both were convinced that there was no reason to be weary, but that didn’t stop the encounter from ruining the peaceful serenity of the moment.
He didn’t have the chance to process what was happening until he heard her scream, pain lacing her voice as she wailed. (Onomatopoeia) He hadn’t noticed the flash of silver, nor the odd silhouette standing in the alley. He hadn’t heard the whoosh of the bullet zooming past his head. (Onomatopoeia) Hadn’t seen the blood staining her jacket.
All he could understand in that second were the desperate cries for help tearing from Valerie’s throat and one word whirling through his clouded mind like a carousel - run. (Simile)
He didn’t know what to do. So he did the only thing he could think; he spun on his heel and he ran, as fast as he could away from the man with the gun and away from his best friend. (Synecdoche) From behind him, he could hear her frenzied shrieking take shape, until he could make out his name on her lips. (Onomatopoeia)
“What are you doing, Dusky? Help me, you coward! Evan!”
Five blocks away and gasping for breath, he halted, whipping out his phone and waiting for his hands to stop shaking enough to allow him to dial the number.
Her words were still echoing in his ears, bouncing around in his skull like a young child’s voice off the walls of a canyon. (Simile and synecdoche)
‘Help me, you coward! Help me… Coward… Coward… Coward… Evan! Help me! Coward… Coward…’
His dark eyes shone with tears, and his shoulders heaved with silent sobs as he brought the receiver to his face. His heart was racing a million miles a minute, and he could have sworn that it would burst out of his chest had it been pounding any harder. (Alliteration and hyperboles)
He was scared beyond belief; scared for Valerie, and scared of what he had done. He’d left his best friend, the light of his life, alone when she needed him. He wasn’t sure if he could live with himself if she didn’t make it.
He wasn’t sure he could live with himself if she did.
“Coward coward coward coward cowardcowardcowardcowardcowardcoward…”
Without a word, the nurse reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance. For the first time, he glanced back at her, noting the pin clipped to her chest - her name was Amelia - as well as the long, auburn hair draped across her shoulders, its copper sheen glowing with an unnatural light amongst the sickening mess of white and beige and grey adorning the hospital. Her blue-green eyes shone with unshed tears, and although he didn’t know why, he somehow felt her pain.
Turning back towards the door, he brought his hand up to rest on the knob and twisted, knowing that the copper haired woman behind him would support him.
The eyes of the girl on the bed were screwed shut, her face distorted in pain even as she slept. Her blonde hair was fanned out on the pillow and bandages adorned her right forearm and her torso, her skin pale and her cheeks sunken in.
“Val…” he whispered, disbelieving. The steady beep of the electrocardiogram rang in his ears, slowly being joined by the sound of her voice in his head.
‘Dusky, help me! Evan… You coward… Coward… Coward… Evan… Dusky, help… Help me, you coward… Coward...’
Amelia gently nudged Valerie’s shoulder, saying softly, “Sweetheart, you have a visitor.”
Valerie opened her eyes slowly, lids raising to reveal radiant pools of molten sapphire shining across the room like a ray of sunlight in a dungeon. (Metaphor and simile)
Sucking in a breath through gritted teeth, he choked out, “H-hey, Val… It’s me, Evan… Dusky…”
The nurse gave him a comforting smile, stepping back from the bedside to allow him access. He made no move to go to the blonde’s side, but Amelia pretended not to notice.
Valerie blinked, staring out at him through half-lidded eyes. “Who are you?”
His heart stopped. (Hyperbole)
Who are you? Asked so innocently, and she had no idea how much it hurt, even though he knew it was coming.
Who am I?
Tears undoubtedly streaking down his cheeks, he kept his bleary vision locked on her, saw the hurt, the sadness, the confusion, didn’t care that she wasn’t trying to hurt him. Couldn’t bring himself to care.
He didn’t know what to do. So he didn’t. He did what he had done five nights ago, what he had been doing his whole life. He turned around and he ran.
Coward.
Despite the many attempts to sterilize the infirmary, the air stank of death and sickness, like a mass grave in the making. (Simile)
He just kept walking, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the nurses filing out of one of the blank rooms on the right. One of them followed him as he brushed past, asking him where he was going. He didn’t answer, instead just picked up his pace, turning a sharp left before he realized she was still following him. She matched his speed, even as he slowed when he arrived at his destination.
He paused, staring at the off-white door until he felt bile rise in his throat, eyes skimming over the words scrawled on the whiteboard suspended against the wood -
Matthews, Valerie
Status: Near death
Focusing on her name and nothing else, he allowed himself to be dragged back to that evening - the night his honor had forsaken him - for what seemed like the millionth time that week. (Personification and hyperbole)
They were walking home leisurely after a lovely dinner together, admiring the stars like jewels against the massive expanse of black silk stretching above them, the gentle autumn breeze at their backs. (Simile and metaphor) Her eyes twinkled in the moonlight, her hair gleaming like liquid gold. (Simile)
He could still remember back when they were still in grade school, when he’d chase her around the playground and tease her about her pigtails. She would still wear them sometimes, just as a memory, and her hair would still reach past her shoulders even when it was tied back.
They’d always been friends, for as long as he could remember. Their mothers had been in an embroidery class together, and he and Valerie were always forced to play together in the little sandbox outside while they waited for their parents to finish. She would say that he had cooties, and he would poke fun at her for always wearing frilly, girly dresses. Eventually, they warmed up to each other, and while they still had fought sometimes, they stayed together all the years leading up to this day. College was hard, but they both majoring in journalism so they had most of their classes together to make up for -
A scraping sound from the alleyway ahead of them startled him from his thoughts. (Onomatopoeia)
“Dusky? What is that?” Val asked, glancing up at him with wide eyes and clinging to his arm like her life depended on it. (Idiom)
His real name was Evan, but she called him ‘Dusky’ because they would always sit around and talk until dusk at their favourite ice cream parlor, way back in eighth grade. They still did, sometimes, only now they didn’t have to run to make it home in time for dinner.
“I don’t know, Val,” he answered, “it’s probably just the wind.” (Idiom)
They kept walking, assured that there was nothing there. Still, as they strolled past the alley, he couldn’t help but risk a glance down the narrow street. Shadows clung to the walls like spiders dangling from their webs, overlapping to create an endless void, a black abyss that you could never escape. (Simile and metaphor) As far as he could tell, there was nothing there; however, he thought he saw the distinctive glint of metal, but quickly dismissed the thought as the lid of a trash can balancing precariously on its waste basket.
Both were convinced that there was no reason to be weary, but that didn’t stop the encounter from ruining the peaceful serenity of the moment.
He didn’t have the chance to process what was happening until he heard her scream, pain lacing her voice as she wailed. (Onomatopoeia) He hadn’t noticed the flash of silver, nor the odd silhouette standing in the alley. He hadn’t heard the whoosh of the bullet zooming past his head. (Onomatopoeia) Hadn’t seen the blood staining her jacket.
All he could understand in that second were the desperate cries for help tearing from Valerie’s throat and one word whirling through his clouded mind like a carousel - run. (Simile)
He didn’t know what to do. So he did the only thing he could think; he spun on his heel and he ran, as fast as he could away from the man with the gun and away from his best friend. (Synecdoche) From behind him, he could hear her frenzied shrieking take shape, until he could make out his name on her lips. (Onomatopoeia)
“What are you doing, Dusky? Help me, you coward! Evan!”
Five blocks away and gasping for breath, he halted, whipping out his phone and waiting for his hands to stop shaking enough to allow him to dial the number.
Her words were still echoing in his ears, bouncing around in his skull like a young child’s voice off the walls of a canyon. (Simile and synecdoche)
‘Help me, you coward! Help me… Coward… Coward… Coward… Evan! Help me! Coward… Coward…’
His dark eyes shone with tears, and his shoulders heaved with silent sobs as he brought the receiver to his face. His heart was racing a million miles a minute, and he could have sworn that it would burst out of his chest had it been pounding any harder. (Alliteration and hyperboles)
He was scared beyond belief; scared for Valerie, and scared of what he had done. He’d left his best friend, the light of his life, alone when she needed him. He wasn’t sure if he could live with himself if she didn’t make it.
He wasn’t sure he could live with himself if she did.
“Coward coward coward coward cowardcowardcowardcowardcowardcoward…”
Without a word, the nurse reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance. For the first time, he glanced back at her, noting the pin clipped to her chest - her name was Amelia - as well as the long, auburn hair draped across her shoulders, its copper sheen glowing with an unnatural light amongst the sickening mess of white and beige and grey adorning the hospital. Her blue-green eyes shone with unshed tears, and although he didn’t know why, he somehow felt her pain.
Turning back towards the door, he brought his hand up to rest on the knob and twisted, knowing that the copper haired woman behind him would support him.
The eyes of the girl on the bed were screwed shut, her face distorted in pain even as she slept. Her blonde hair was fanned out on the pillow and bandages adorned her right forearm and her torso, her skin pale and her cheeks sunken in.
“Val…” he whispered, disbelieving. The steady beep of the electrocardiogram rang in his ears, slowly being joined by the sound of her voice in his head.
‘Dusky, help me! Evan… You coward… Coward… Coward… Evan… Dusky, help… Help me, you coward… Coward...’
Amelia gently nudged Valerie’s shoulder, saying softly, “Sweetheart, you have a visitor.”
Valerie opened her eyes slowly, lids raising to reveal radiant pools of molten sapphire shining across the room like a ray of sunlight in a dungeon. (Metaphor and simile)
Sucking in a breath through gritted teeth, he choked out, “H-hey, Val… It’s me, Evan… Dusky…”
The nurse gave him a comforting smile, stepping back from the bedside to allow him access. He made no move to go to the blonde’s side, but Amelia pretended not to notice.
Valerie blinked, staring out at him through half-lidded eyes. “Who are you?”
His heart stopped. (Hyperbole)
Who are you? Asked so innocently, and she had no idea how much it hurt, even though he knew it was coming.
Who am I?
Tears undoubtedly streaking down his cheeks, he kept his bleary vision locked on her, saw the hurt, the sadness, the confusion, didn’t care that she wasn’t trying to hurt him. Couldn’t bring himself to care.
He didn’t know what to do. So he didn’t. He did what he had done five nights ago, what he had been doing his whole life. He turned around and he ran.
Coward.