Send me "Goodbye" for the last voice message
my muse leaves for yours before they die.
he’s dying. he can feel the wolfbane pump through his
system ; taste the blood in his mouth. the musky scent of
the dirt presses compact against the lid of his makeshift
coffin, and it seems almost ironic that he’s found himself
here again — full circle — trapped within the confines of a
space that barely fits long limbs as he claws desperately
at its metallic lid. except this time, he isn’t hidden in the
dark, dank depths of the family basement. this time, he’s
been buried alive.
he really was an idiot, going against his better judgement
and choosing to come back to beacon hills.
but it wasn’t as if he had a choice.
pity he isn’t worth a measly million.
pity he isn’t even on the list.
seems like an awful lot of trouble to go
through for someone entirely worthless.
fingers fumble with the phone in his pocket, and isaac’s
surprised to find that he’s still able to get service. idly, he
wonders how deep his unmarked grave is. distantly, he
wonders if they’ll ever find his body.
it’s probably for the best that his phone call immediately
goes to message bank, despite his selfish, needy side
desiring nothing more than to hear her voice one last time.
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