prompt: divided

It was all terribly cliched, the way the lightening had flashed and illuminated the dark room right before the door creaked open in time with the thunder that followed. Cara stood still, afraid of what might be coming through but hopelessly incapable of performing an intelligent act for once in her fool life and hiding, or even arming herself with something resembling self-defense.

You would think this was where the true tension lies, but no.

There is something deeper and more captivating in Cara's life which posed a more looming threat than simply being at risk of dying at the hands of some overzealous intruder.

She was wholly unprepared to see Dante standing framed by the doorway, but only because there was something decidedly different about him from when he left that evening. There was always the expectation (at least within Dante's own mind) that he would return victorious every night when he set out, but the universe seemed to be working against him and he had never met with success. So when he now stood on the threshold of their shared hovel dripping in blood there was no precedent for how she should react.

She should be happy for him.

This was the only thing he'd ever (EVER) wanted, so she wanted to congratulate him. She needed to respond positively so he'd know she truly was supportive of him and only wanted what he wanted andifhekickedheroutbecausehenolongerneedhershedidn'tknowwhatshewoulddo...

neuroses aside

she was stuck to her spot on the floor, unable to approach, because a small part of her had always been afraid of this day. He had finally done it. Are the voices gone? Has his slate been wiped clean? Will he be normal now?

So many questions.

 The one thing she wasn't worried about was whether or not she herself was still safe from him. Surely this didn't change anything between them. There was no chance he would ever hurt her.

 Not intentionally...

Not Physically...

 Not really...

prompt: college

He was putting too much thought into this...

It was supposed to be instinct, sudden, primal. The first thing that walked by, he was supposed to pounce. But he couldn't help hesitating. False start after false start. This one too high-profile, this one with a friend. Excuse after excuse. The break was a mistake. Never mind that it wasn't his idea, his intention, to take the break, but the fact remained it had been far too long. The call had intensified to such a roar rushing around in his ears that he just got up and left the house. She had called after him; confused, surprised... She didn't really think it had all gone away, did she? Even he knew that it could never be that neat and clean, not for him. He was what he was and at one point in his life he had come to terms with that. And now here he was again, watching as potential prey after potential prey after prey walked right by him. He need to clear his head (ironic, as that is what he was trying to do in the first place) and just go for it. What was the phrase? Give it the old college try, yes... This one...

This one right here...