[ Jessica was expecting mockery, snarling cruelty, perhaps hypocritical justifications for the brutal slaying of her beloved. As it is, Faith's apparent resignation does nothing to quell her grief-infused rage.
She seizes Faith's wrist in a death-grip, the fingers of her other hand tightly gripping her index finger. She starts to bend, back and back, waiting for the satisfaction of a sickening snap. ]
She didn't do anything to you! How could you do that to her!? I thought you were my friend!
[ Her fury is a righteous one, laced with the hypocritical regret of a girl that watched her friend suffer for years and did nothing to alleviate it, somebody who was surrounded with friends all walled off from her by barriers of status and responsibility and circumstance. ]
cw: bone-breaking, finger trauma.
She seizes Faith's wrist in a death-grip, the fingers of her other hand tightly gripping her index finger. She starts to bend, back and back, waiting for the satisfaction of a sickening snap. ]
She didn't do anything to you! How could you do that to her!? I thought you were my friend!
[ Her fury is a righteous one, laced with the hypocritical regret of a girl that watched her friend suffer for years and did nothing to alleviate it, somebody who was surrounded with friends all walled off from her by barriers of status and responsibility and circumstance. ]