Status: Depends who's updating XD Send us some love people, keep this story strong x
Take No Prisoners
Introduction 3
Angel Of Anarchy
When I was young I used to picture my life inside my head.
I would stand perplexed in the middle of a sort of crossroads where dozens of paths interlaced with each other. I could sense the pressure of the sky above me, urging me to make a decision and choose a path to walk
As an adolescent I felt even more misplaced, my parents split and when I was eleven my mother was murdered in a mugging gone wrong. My grades began to slip at school and I would frequently feel closed off from my friends when they would laugh and smile, it wasn’t often I could bring myself to joke around with them anymore.
Depression would creep upon me as I lay awake at night unable to sleep and it was on one of those ordinary nights I felt myself snap. I quickly grew from sad to annoyed, annoyed to angry and angry to livid. All my life I had tried to satisfy my parent’s wants for a perfect daughter and fulfill my teacher’s expectations, never sparing a thought to what I wanted for myself and it was always Skippy that helped me through the worst of it.
It was Skippy that helped me channel my anger. It was Skippy that suggested trying self defense classes and her Uncles John’s shooting range. It was Skippy that kept me from going bat shit insane.
I can’t count how many times it’s felt like she’s saved my life with her incredibly annoying upbeat personality. It’s like she saw the horrors of the world and it never once fazed her, she was like a sister to me.
It’s my fault she’s dead.
I asked her to come with me and Dusty, she refused at first, said she’d wait the war out with her Aunt and Uncle, I pushed and she relented. I led her to America, to her death; we were so blind to what war really was back then.
War changes you, you watch your friends die and you can never grieve properly, you have to trudge on and eventually you become a shadow of your former self. I guess that’s what I am; a shadow.
As early dawn light broke over the horizon I stood by my sisters’ grave wearing an emotionless mask, harboring an ever growing inferno of rage. I watched in silence while Dusty cried and I promised myself I wouldn’t shed a single tear until I personally helped burn Better Living Industries to the ground.
I'm a Killjoy. My name is Angel of Anarchy.
When I was young I used to picture my life inside my head.
I would stand perplexed in the middle of a sort of crossroads where dozens of paths interlaced with each other. I could sense the pressure of the sky above me, urging me to make a decision and choose a path to walk
As an adolescent I felt even more misplaced, my parents split and when I was eleven my mother was murdered in a mugging gone wrong. My grades began to slip at school and I would frequently feel closed off from my friends when they would laugh and smile, it wasn’t often I could bring myself to joke around with them anymore.
Depression would creep upon me as I lay awake at night unable to sleep and it was on one of those ordinary nights I felt myself snap. I quickly grew from sad to annoyed, annoyed to angry and angry to livid. All my life I had tried to satisfy my parent’s wants for a perfect daughter and fulfill my teacher’s expectations, never sparing a thought to what I wanted for myself and it was always Skippy that helped me through the worst of it.
It was Skippy that helped me channel my anger. It was Skippy that suggested trying self defense classes and her Uncles John’s shooting range. It was Skippy that kept me from going bat shit insane.
I can’t count how many times it’s felt like she’s saved my life with her incredibly annoying upbeat personality. It’s like she saw the horrors of the world and it never once fazed her, she was like a sister to me.
It’s my fault she’s dead.
I asked her to come with me and Dusty, she refused at first, said she’d wait the war out with her Aunt and Uncle, I pushed and she relented. I led her to America, to her death; we were so blind to what war really was back then.
War changes you, you watch your friends die and you can never grieve properly, you have to trudge on and eventually you become a shadow of your former self. I guess that’s what I am; a shadow.
As early dawn light broke over the horizon I stood by my sisters’ grave wearing an emotionless mask, harboring an ever growing inferno of rage. I watched in silence while Dusty cried and I promised myself I wouldn’t shed a single tear until I personally helped burn Better Living Industries to the ground.
I'm a Killjoy. My name is Angel of Anarchy.
♠ ♠ ♠
Bit shite at the beginning, may have to come back and edit later. Bet this Chappy looks waaay shorter after Dusty's, I swear that woman is a machine! Ahhh well. Love it. Subscribe. Comment.