Post by emerythehousewife on Oct 9, 2011 4:28:03 GMT
Light shone from the setting sun, casting a faint orange glow on the cemetery. It was late but not too late. There were still people though the numbers were dwindling. It was quiet in the cemetery save for the wind and people's whispers. Emery like the cemetery. People left you alone if they thought you were mourning. Not like Emery was. He didn't have anyone to mourn. It wasn't like he was going to follow through with any of his threats and actually kill his adoptive mother/sister...thing. Then he would be all alone. Well he didn't mind that. He liked being alone. Hence the cemetery. Killing his mother/sister, thing, would mean going back into foster care, stupid humans, and leaving the house. Leaving the house meant leaving his beloved kitchen and garden. And the only time he'd leave those would be when they'd have to pull his dead and decaying body out of there.
Emery snorted. Like that was going to happen. The only person he let get close enough to kill him wouldn't be able to survive if they did. Emery kept the house clean and cooked all the food. His mother/sister (seriously what was she?) thing would be buried in trash by the second day. She saved him he saves her. That's how their relationship worked.
Emery sat with his back against a tree and stared at the rows of tombstones. He was starting to wish he had grabbed a book before leaving the house. Sitting here for the next three to eight hours with nothing to do was going to be boring. He could always sleep but sleeping in public places, even near deserted cemeteries, was never the best of ideas.
Emery snorted. Like that was going to happen. The only person he let get close enough to kill him wouldn't be able to survive if they did. Emery kept the house clean and cooked all the food. His mother/sister (seriously what was she?) thing would be buried in trash by the second day. She saved him he saves her. That's how their relationship worked.
Emery sat with his back against a tree and stared at the rows of tombstones. He was starting to wish he had grabbed a book before leaving the house. Sitting here for the next three to eight hours with nothing to do was going to be boring. He could always sleep but sleeping in public places, even near deserted cemeteries, was never the best of ideas.
