_{CRAVESFREEDOM.}

              ^{she’s struck by a feeling that something’s different about her friend, something off ; a dark aura’s settled about her ( not that she believes in that hippie shit. ) but isn’t that what happens to everyone fending for themselves in a DIRTY, messed up world? no one escapes without looking like the weight of the universe itself has crushed their soul. she’s worried there’s more to the story than a bad life wearing at her, but she doesn’t say anything about it, not now. she busies her mind with bullet’s words ; she was WORRIED about her, something that brought a warmth to her core,  ❛   i was basically in lockdown — they took my phone away, had me doing some homeschool shit.   ❜   she drags her teeth over her chapped bottom lip, thinking, before a decisive smile makes its way on her face,   ❛   i think i’ll always pick breakfast.   ❜   she spins on her heel, heading off in the direction that would lead to the nearest greasy diner,   ❛   bullet, i want to pay.   ❜   she isn’t looking at her, eyes on the ground watching herself walk. how many times has bullet had her back when she had nothing? ( whether it was a place to stay, food, money ) — she OWED her.}

_{too much has  happened.    there’s been so much blood and so much  pain,  so much she hasn’t  spoken  about of her own volition,  let alone  acknowledged  with anything other than a swell of  anger.    grateful  that octavia isn’t the  prying  type,  although  part of her  longs to unload.     (     it’s  okay  to be not okay,  fifteen and grieving over too many things all at once.    it’s  okay  to be upset and want to  confide in someone  who might understand instead of forcing yourself open to someone who does nothing but  psychoanalyse  your every word.    )    a scoff parts her lips,  cracked and raw  from the chill and split at the corner,  where she took a hit two days ago.     ❛     fuck ‘em.    you  gotta  keep a low profile for a li’l while,  man.    you know they’ll be  huntin’  your ass down like a freakin’  dog.    i’ll find you a place t’ squat if you need one.     ❜     she remembers being on the run.    her first year on the streets was hell.     ❛     guess i should’a known  that.    yo,  c’mon,  i mean it.    you ain’t gonna have that scratch forever.    don’t  blow  it on some damn eggs ‘n bacon,  you feel me ?     ❜     she falls into step,  a small  quirk  at the edges of her mouth.    money isn’t as much of an issue for bullet as it is for  others,  but she’s always  hesitant  to divulge that,  and  cautious  with who she tells.     ❛     so,  who were the punk - asses that got stuck wit’cho  crazy  ass ?    bible  thumpers ?     ❜}