miseryloved

[miseryloved]

eugenia’s eyes expanded into saucers at the man’s sudden movements, breath hitched and shoulders to her ears. had this happened a few years prior, she would’ve repeated all the mantras she memorized in her stint at the detention hall: you're safe, focus on your breaths, nobody here is out to get you. now, while the town was heavy with the weight of sudden tragedy, she was forced to reckon with the fact that this may not be true. eugenia had to sleep with one eye open, walk around with her head on a swivel. she slowly pulled her hand back to her lips, securing her still lit cigarette between her lips as she rifled through her bag. out the side of her mouth, she spoke; “i’ve never been one for butane lighters.” her shoulders relaxed with a shrug, revealing a dirty and dented box of matches. she extends this to the man beside her—a peace offering. “my pa told me it changes the flavor. i’m inclined to agree.”

chilled   by   the   autumnal   breezes,   yonghwa   couldn't   help   but   feel   a   sense   of   relief   ;   it   was   as   if   the   cooling   temperature   helped   to   ease   the   scorch   marks   on   his   soul,   the   fire   -   charred   remnants   of   a   burned   fate   line,   a   broken   red   string.   the   feeling   most   often   leaves   him   destitute,   ;   unlike   usual,   though,   he   found   himself   wandering   the   town   rather   than   staying   cooped   in   his   small   apartment,   rotting.   the   air   felt   too   fresh,   and   his   hand   itched   instinctively   for   a   cigarette,   craving   the   nicotine.   but   after   tapping   his   cigarette   pack   and   swiping   one   to   settle   between   his   digits,   he   realized   that   he   had   no   lighter.   great. yonghwa   was   moments   away   from   tucking   the   thing   back   when   he   noticed   the   scent   of   smoke   coming   from   just   a   few   feet   ahead.   this   prompted   his   approach,   but   he   hadn't   expected   the   response   he   received when the woman came into view, and   a   hand   flew   out   to   stop   her   from   extinguishing.   “wooooah,   you   don't   have   to   do   that   !"   he   said,   offering   a   polite   smile   before   waving   his   own   cigarette,   albeit   awkwardly.   “i   was   just   going   to   ask   for   a   light.   do   you   mind?”

[miseryloved]

“oh,” eugenia muttered. she mustered up the courage to spare quick glances towards the woman beside her, but never quite met her eyes. instead, her posture stiffens, sliding her half-smoked cigarette into its box with the slightest wavering in hands. a quick “thanks” escaped her lips, accompanied by a stiff smile. in a town as small as cloyne, it wasn’t often that she spoke with an unfamiliar face. granted, it wasn’t often that she spoke with anyone, but the pressure to put on a good show loomed above her like the clouds overhead. all too familiar thoughts circle her mind as she listens to the calm and easy tone of the strangers voice; do i sound too dismissive? too anxious? i hope the mugwort covers the tobacco on my breath. “share a taste of serenity…” eugenia repeated. “if you’re not a poet already, you should consider it.” she let her words hang between the two of them in a silence the length of her deep, shaky inhale. “it’s, uh, treating me well. as well as it can. i’m sure you know how it is—it’s just nice to get away from the noise once in a while.”

even  the  natural  cold  hurts  them.     pink-skinned  down  to  their  cleansed  lungs,   where  the  air  would  blister  if  it  could  steal  breath.     they  exhale  that  air  instead   –   lended  by  the  sharp  exhales  of  wintered  dirt   –   and  watch  their  milky  sigh  evaporate.     they  don’t  know  how  beautiful  the   untrodden   can  be.     this  is  what  you  think  on  these  cloudy  days,   among  green-less  bark  and  parched  moss.     you  see  the  tree  before  you  see  her,   and  wonder  whether  the  known  should  stumble  upon  the  lost.     your  smile  tips  into  something  honest.     full-cheeked   /   honey-toned.     the  silence  folds  in  upon  itself.     ‘   and  go  where?     you’ve  warmed  this  seat,   you  should  keep  it.   ’     it  wouldn’t  be  fair:   to  intrude  and  simply  leave.     then  neither  heart  would  remember  this  nothing,   would  they?     and  you,   distant  as  you  are,   can’t  be  forgotten.     talia  invites  herself  to  sits  down  beside  the  other  girl.     the  steam  from  her  coffee  plumes  into  her  breathed  air.     a  leg  crosses  over  another.     her  gaze,   silky-thin  and  narrowed,   rounds  towards  the  girl’s  now  idle  hands.     ‘   what  if  i  wanted  to   share,   hmm?     get  a  taste  of  serenity   ( … )   how  was  it  treating  you,   way  out  here?   ’

[miseryloved]

most people in cloyne stayed inside on nights like this, especially while the threat of sudden death was still striking fear into even the most jaded of residents. eugenia got used to the streets clearing as soon as the sun went down, leaving nothing but her and the whippoorwills, the katydids, what remained of the cicadas. tonight, the smell of rain traveled through the breeze, and she wanted to be anywhere but home. the weather brought her tomcat of a father in for the evening with a carton of cowboy killers and a fridge full of forties, something eugenia was determined to avoid at all costs. instead of rotting in a bar where she’d be accompanied by a glass of wine and an old book, she wandered down to the park in a tattered hiking jacket and an umbrella on her hip, prepared to wait out the storm. she approached and noticed rusty squealing from the swing sets, but she shrugged it off, it must’ve been the breeze. it was only when she heard the faintest voice between the wind whistling through the trees and the leaves cracking beneath her feet that her heart began to race. she looked around frantically, trying to see what might be illuminated by the distant streetlights as her breath quickened. she followed the call of a louder voice this time, bridging the gap between her and the figure she spotted on the swings. “it’s just me!” she responded, not realizing how stupid it sounded before she could stop the words from escaping her lips. as she got closer, the more familiar the figure appeared—it was someone she knew, someone so different from herself that it almost made more sense to retreat back into the darkness than to exist in the same space and risk further embarrassment. “eugenia. i mean, it’s just me, eugenia. i’m just here to watch the storm.”

for:   open! location:   playground.

NAYA   SAT   ON   the   swings   of   the   old   playground,   she   rocked   back   and   forth,   her   gaze   fixed   on   the   sky   above.   For   a   moment,   she   felt   at   peace—like   this   small   town,   with   all   its   secrets,   could   offer   her   the   escape   she   had   been   searching   for.   Closing   her   eyes,   Naya   leaned   her   head   back,   letting   the   cool   night   air   brush   over   her   skin.   Her   mind   couldn't   help   but   drift   to   the   unsettling   stories   that   had   spread   through   town   like   wildfire.   She   briefly   wondered   if   she   had   truly   escaped,   or   if   Cloyne   was   just   another   trap,   wrapped   in   false   promises   of   safety.

A   cold   drop   landed   on   her   face. 

Her   body   tensed,   heart   racing   as   her   mind   spiraled.   Blood.   The   word   echoed   in   her   thoughts,   a   sudden   wave   of   panic   rushing   over   her.   Her   eyes   shot   open,   her   hand   flying   up   to   her   cheek,   only   to   find   it   wet   with…   rain.   Just   rain.   She   exhaled   shakily,   pressing   her   palm   to   her   chest   to   steady   herself,   “ Get   a   grip , ”   she   muttered   to   herself,   trying   to   shake   off   the   unease.

But   the   moment   was   shattered   when   she   heard   the   distinct   sound   of   footsteps   behind   her,   cutting   through   the   rhythm   of   the   rain.. 

 “   Who’s   there ?   ”

[miseryloved]

eugenia typically wasn’t the prying type. her mother considered it unbecoming, discouraging the behavior whenever she could with whatever energy she could muster. on the off chance that the urge overwhelmed her, she was always caught pale faced and red handed. yet, after a hot september night at the station, surrounded by pigs in suits and her eyes blinded by interrogation lights, she stayed awake thinking about how many people in this podunk town thought she was capable of murder. anxious thoughts bounced off of every corner in her mind, full of half-baked conspiracies about how far up this goes. as she stood only feet away from the city official, she recalled stories of the innocent put on trial for crimes they were miles away from. the hair stood up on her arms, on the back of her neck, so entranced in thought she didn’t realize how long she had been staring at the very woman she had come here to plead her innocence to. how she would do that, exactly? she hadn’t thought that far, and she wouldn’t have the chance to, after the woman’s exclamation shook her out of her trance. “my lips are sealed,” she managed to eke out, the corners of her lips pulled into a soft (yet noticeably uncomfortable) smile. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you.”

anywhere with @miseryloved (eugenia).

jocelyn wasn't able to answer how she felt so stressed when she was now pushing all her responsibilities onto the mayor himself because she wanted her name to be on it as little as possible. standing outside of an establishment towards the side, the deputy mayor fished out a packet of cigarettes and lifted one up to her month - then it would take her a couple more moments finding it in her bag. her eyes darted up and caught sight of the other and she did her best not to shudder. was the other watching her? there were whispers going around about eugenia o'neils morbid curiosities, or perhaps jocelyn's brain had come to that determination by itself. now in the other's presence, she felt even more urgency to locate the lighter. "ah!" she pursed her lips together as she pulled it out, finally acknowledging the other as she'd tried so desperately not to look at her. "don't tell my wife."

[miseryloved]

EXT. CITY PARK / 00.1 OPEN

the cold creep of fall into the cloyne township was always welcomed by eugenia. every year, she celebrates the turn of the seasons on an old wooden bench, under the shade of an even older weeping willow tree. the ritual remained the same for as long as she could remember: a book in one hand, mugwort tea in the other, and a du maurier between painted lips. sometimes she’d go hours without seeing another person, but it seemed as half of the town had the same idea. every few minutes she’d hear footsteps on crackling leaves behind her, or see a figure crossing in the corner of her eye. in any other circumstance she would pay them no mind, but she’d be lying if she said that the news circulating around town hadn’t been keeping her on edge. so on edge that when noticing a person lingering beside her, she couldn’t help but blurt out, “is the smoke bothering you?” she rushed to put her cigarette out on the toe of her boots. “sorry, i can move if you want.”

[miseryloved]

˗ˏˋ 𓂃 ( angela bettis (1999-2003). cis woman. she/her ). meet EUGENIA O’NEIL, a twenty five year old, who has been in cloyne for twenty five years. they are a vet tech at cloyne veterinary services, known for being inquisitive and morbid. they are often heard humming along to pretty girl by clario. residents would describe them as THE RED HERRING. ( ty, 25, they/them, cst ) WARNINGS FOR : neglect, bullying, assault, and animal death

FULL NAME : eugenia o’neil.

NICKNAME : genie.

AGE :  twenty5.

DATE OF BIRTH :  2/20/1999.

PLACE OF BIRTH : cloyne, ontario.

ETHNICITY : caucasian.

GENDER : cis woman.

PRONOUNS : she/her.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : bisexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : biromantic.

RELIGION : catholic.

OCCUPATION :  vet tech.

EDUCATION LEVEL :  associates in veterinary technology.

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS : mobile home, with her mother and father.

FINANCIAL STATUS : lower class.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES : english.

FACECLAIM :  angela bettis.

CLOTHING STYLE :  homemade and mended clothes, particularly long maxi skirts and patterned blouses

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS : amblyopia in her left eye, corrected with glasses.

eugenia was born kicking and screaming in a trailer on the outskirts of town. her parents were like a nuclear reaction—bad for each other in the best possible way. her mother was sickly and her father was something of a free spirit, so by the time she was old enough to be trusted around an open flame she was practically raising herself. she’d come to school reeking of cat piss and cigarettes, teeth yellow and marred with cavities and fractures. the children around her had a tendency to be quite wicked and unrelenting, whenever they had an opportunity to make a mockery out of the young eugenia they would take it in spades. she was spat on, stolen from, sneered at. at first, it didn’t bother her. she spent most of her time the school library reading anything she could find about pets and barn animals, oblivious of what was to come.

she was passionate about mammalian life from an incredibly young age. sometimes it would be all she could think about. her teachers picked up on this and oftentimes she was the one responsible for caring for the class pets on the weekends. as it turns out, her peers at school took notice of this habit as well. as always, they had a plan in place for turning her life into a living nightmare. one friday, as school was letting out for the day, eugenia turned her back on the class guinea pigs for one second before a group of boys ran off with them. she woke up the next morning to the sight of them lifeless on her front doorstep. one weekend was all it took for her to go from being teased and jeered at to being feared, with everyone looking at her like the blood was still on her hands.

animal killer is the type of reputation that sticks throughout one’s adolescence. even the people who would pity her before looked at her with a tinge of disgust. still, she stayed afloat, trying her best to pass her classes and obsessing over boys she knew would never give her the time of day. any semblance of normalcy came to a halt when in her junior year of high school another group of kids followed her home to pick on her. they threw stones, torn ketchup packets, and rotten food at her. to them, it was vigilante justice. to her, it was her final straw. she still remembers how it felt to dig her nails beneath the skin of the ringleader—leaving five twin gashes across the length of his face. it was the only time she ever submitted to violence, the only time she refused to turn the other cheek, but the family still pressed charges.

eugenia was forced to grow up quickly that summer. after months of being paraded through courts and juvenile detention centers, she tried her damnedest to run from the events of her past. she went to school online, found a career that she loved, and managed to support her mother through her illness. she’d later realize that this was something of a calm before the storm. that moment ended when the police department came knocking on her door, asking her about her connections to damien costello. one of the names she’d never be able to forget, a boy that tormented her through school and a witness to her brutal attack on their ringleader. there wasn’t much the police could do, considering their lack of physical evidence—but cloyne is a town that talks. once again, she began to notice sideways glances in her direction, unmarked vehicles outside of her trailer park, and policemen talking to the only people who give her the time of day. she hopes that somehow she’ll be able to prove her innocence, that she could escape this with some shred of dignity left, but with her track record? she might not be so lucky.

[miseryloved]

The Crow (1994) dir. Alex Proyas

[miseryloved]

may (2002)

[miseryloved]

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