the frost report

So this kid(Andrew Conley), instead of actually doing his part of his lab report like he was supposed to do, decided to write this epic poem about how Landon didn’t make a doc and complained they didn’t have one. Pls take a moment to read this and peep the title. It is truly a testament to the extent of procrastination

      the soft fabric of the robe lying against her skin made her smile, harley had given it to her & it was the first robe she had ever owned. — how silly she’d become, wearing a robe given to her by her boss all because she missed her & wanted something to remind her of her. 

      she had become prone to self torture as she spent most of her days and nights in harley’s home, sleeping in her bed, washing her clothes, and all around tending to her house. although she was currently missing, she would return eventually, and if her home was hideous she would surely scold sydney.

      all of the information she had gathered in an effort to find harley was reported to frost & in return frost reported it to mr. j ;; he informed her that it would be best if she stirred clear of him. ‘he’s not himself’ frost reported and if she didn’t know any better she’d think frost genuinely cared about her well being. she couldn’t lie, frost was her go to, her elder, and in the end, he was the one who ultimately comforted her in his own way. tough love. 

      she found a slight relief in avoiding mr. j, for every time she looked at his face she saw a traitor. thanks to him, harley was taken by the batman to begin with & now they were all on edge to find her. if he’d have just taken five seconds to secure her belt and aid her escape, she’d be here. ——the lights were dim when she laid down to sleep, even though she knew sleep wouldn’t necessarily come & the relentless tossing and turning ailed her. she felt as though she had been restless for hours, but a sudden shift in her mattress caught her off guard. 

     her eyes popped open in a general shock as she slowly moved her fingers to the pistol lying between the mattress below her. the delicate silencer stretched out at the opening of the gun extended it slightly as she placed it against the forehead of her unknown visitor. —— she turned over slowly and used her free hand to switch on the lamp sitting on the night stand next to her. the pale skin of mr. j was exposed and the light green hair caught her off guard before anything else did.        ❛              ya gotta be shittin me      ————    the hell ya doin mr. j  ?         ❜

❰   starter call ┊ @crimson-smirk  

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