Stone Circle vittorio

she doesn't
give a fuck
merrick drew his breath at the ice in laurel's voice. his aunt did not seem to give a single shit, not that she had ordered indra to abandon her only son, not that she too had left him behind, and not even now — not even now did blood of his blood stand to offer him comfort.
it would not have made a difference. not now. the gangrene of that loss had lodged itself in merrick's very marrow, rotting itself with great bites from the inside. it consumed him now, this angry rot. he swallowed, lifted his head, kept his tone controlled with a melancholy he did not feel. "how did she die?"
had laurel even seen the body he had left half-buried in the meadow? was she full of shit in that regard too?
fuck you