Hypodermic Sally

Tracking: brokenragdoll


Mun and Muse 21+

Written by LOVETT

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est. 05-07-2016

moralslefttodecay:

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“IT is a comfort beyond measure,” he answered softly. He loved to bask in that warmth of the soul that came from caring for another. It was a feeling he had thought long lost, turned to dust from centuries of disuse. His eyes fell shut, if only to curl in closer to her, the spirit corporeal as he let a hand dare to caress her back and offer a modicum of comfort. “Doest thou feel safe in mine arms?”

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A loving gesture, his hand cupping the small of her back that caused it to arch in feline display and her chest to purr in honest appreciation. Despite her obvious discomfort ( not an illness, for it couldn’t be treated and had to be patiently coasted off ), Sally pushed through her own deplorable state and found the strength to return what was being given to her —— a wet kiss, planted right beneath Ambrose’s jawline where his pulse point should have been. Her eyelids fell shut, nose and mouth sucking in every bit of cold air that smelled entirely of him. “Safe… baby, I could fall asleep and let you be my eyes and ears for the night.” Out of pure instinct, Sally’s face - pearled with droplets of sweat - pushed deeper into the man’s coat to let itself be engulfed by his warmth. She would have, fallen asleep, had her stomach not felt like it was being brutally punched by withdrawal’s iron fists. “We do work well together, don’t you think? The ghost and the junkie… what a goddamn irony.”

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ALTHOUGH mortal desires and needs were not something that came to him, he found himself wrapping her up in his arms, in curling up beside her and pulling her in against his chest. It took him a few moments to wrap them both up in the sparse blankets, to be sure to keep all the heat that radiated off of her like the sun under wraps. If she had a fever, she needed to stay warm. That much he knew.

Only when they were settled, snug together, did he move to cradle her cheek, looking down into her eyes. As she moved to kiss him, he leaned in partway to return it with tenderness, with care. She was in his charge now, his beloved lost soul he would protect for an eternity if he must. “Oh, but thou are an angel to me,” he breathed out in the silence. “My angel. Thou taught me something no one else could… What it is to feel love.”

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Thank god for Ambrose’s hand he let her hold onto — all those five fingers that were so long and thick and perfect to squeeze for comfort. Had he not sworn to stay, Sally would have cut them right off just so she could keep them… for no one else but herself. “And how does is feel, baby?” A soft peck to each of his knuckles was given in between words, the woman’s ice cold feet cozying up to his leg beneath their set of heavy blankets. Although they smelled like centuries old, which ( given the history of the place she now referred to as home ) they probably were, Sally’s light perfume still lingered around them. Like a dangerous curse hanging right above his head.

“Does it feel good, having me so close… knowing you’ve got me and I’m yours alone?” Her cheek pushed against the gentleness of his touch, slightly flushed now that his body and clothes were doing one hell of a wonderful job at keeping her warm. More than heroin ever could — the cold stroke of a syringe probing at her abused skin.

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“I…” It was so sudden, and yet he didn’t feel it was wrong. There was no secret that he had taken a keen interest in her, in protecting her from his kind In ensuring that she would be safe. If anything happened to her… he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. Was that not love? He felt he knew so little of it.

“I do love you, Sally.” He pressed a kiss to her fevered forehead, his eyes shut. Each kiss she gave him felt like a blessing, a kindness. It was overwhelming, in truth. “I will take care of you, if it were the last thing I ever do with my miserable existence.”

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“Don’t kick yourself, baby.” But even if she was supposed to be scolding him for what he said next, Sally couldn’t stop her own lips from smiling at the effect such beautiful words had on her heart —— broken after years of cruel mistreatment and false hopes. He loved her… he was kissing her and he loved her, there were no lies to be found in Ambrose’s eyes as she stared helplessly into them. A wounded dove, seeking warmth and begging to be held tighter.

“Don’t kick yourself because I love you too, miserable existence and all. Look at me… I’m no beautiful angel either, I’ve done things… to myself and others.” Her mouth met his into a second kiss, smaller than the last but no less loving. Sally knew, she could have done it all night… over and over again until her lips bled.

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KISSES. Kisses were a long-forgotten concept to Ambrose. A long-forgotten comfort. He’d kissed women before, in his mortal life, but in his immortal one he had lost the taste for it. Something about his state of constant misery and guilt had put it out of his mind for good - or so he thought.

The sudden kiss drew a surprised whimper from him, before he clutched her face and returned her kiss with a fire of his own. Oh, how sweet it felt to be wanted by someone again, to feel the comfort of their shared emotions. When he broke the kiss, he still lingered close, forehead pressed to hers as he took the moment to savour just how good it all felt. “Sweet, dear Sally…”

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A single bite was given to Ambrose’s bottom lip, inviting yet so sweet at the same time; she had to give him something that would drive him head over heels for her and make him want to come back for more. But at least he didn’t go too far away from her reach, Sally couldn’t have chased after him if he left… one thing she knew for sure, neither one of her legs would have been able to support her body’s own weight if she as much as tried getting up.

Over and over again the man’s bearded cheeks were kissed, the tip of his nose too as she pushed harder against his forehead. He was happy, Sally could tell… and it was all because of her, the fabricated killer inside him had been tamed. “Say you love me, baby. I know you do, there’s no hiding it from me —— you’re shaking and I can feel it.” A cold hand found its way under his shirt, Ambrose’s skin serving as her personal heater she wouldn’t have traded for all the blankets in the world.

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SHE was right. He sat there in silence, realising the truth of that. He’d thought himself a coward, and yet without realising he was raising a silent rebellion. He would not let his mother have this life, this precious life in his arms. He ruminated on that, flushing somewhat when she made his influence on her life clear. She cared for him, she wished to preserve his goodness. What greater gift would he ever ask for?

“You are sweet beyond words, Sally. You speak so highly of a man who has been more monster than man for centuries. If you’ve seen the things I have done… I think you would fear me rather than take comfort in my arms.”

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This had to stop, Ambrose’s talk of self hatred that made tears well up beneath her closed eyelids. She knew what she knew and nothing he could have said would ever be enough to change Sally’s perception of him, good and brave; how could it happen, when it was him the one keeping her close like nursing her back to health wasn’t a complete waste of everyone’s time? The junkie was one hell of a stubborn person, he would soon come to learn that… if he chose to stay long enough to see her well and ready to fight him on it. 

There was only one way of proving she meant what she said, up to the last word of it. Kisses had always been Sally’s secret weapon — her most reliable resource when it came to opening up to someone… and she made use of it with no shame, to finally shut him up. Ambrose’s lips felt warm against hers as they swallowed the last of his words, both her hands untangling themselves from around his shirt so they could hold onto his face instead. A loving grip.

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AS she found her way curled into his arms, he only held her, caressing her back as she shook like a leaf. As he listened, he felt his unyielding empathy burn for her, this poor lost woman who ached for happiness in this miserable life. Yet, was he so different? Only… he had no escape.

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“I find you to be beautiful, Sally,” he answered her candidly. Despite her illness, she had such striking eyes, such soft lips. A smile he found himself yearning to see. Maybe he was taken with her, after all. “Though I wish you could have seen the man I was before it all went wrong. I grew from a coward to become a leader in my community. I was a good man. I fought for what was right, even when it meant going against the only family I had left. And then it all…. I became lost. Now, I am tied to this wretched existence against my will.”

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Sally’s breath had to feel hot like the devil’s tongue against the crook of his neck, but at least the violent trembling of her skin had been reduced to a light ( and much less dramatic ) shivering; all thanks to his arms and blanket protecting her body from its own reaction to sobriety — keeping her nice and warm with hugs and soft kisses to the top of her head. If only the need to break herself before the world got a chance at it hadn’t taken over her… back in the day when dreams could be easily wasted. 

 Instead of pained whimpering, it was a low hum that she gave for an answer. “Not against your will, no… look at yourself, taking care of mama’s little prey. There’s strength in you, I can feel it.” And it was true, Sally had developed great skills to sense others’ true selves… just like people used to say, you see everything when the world doesn’t see you. The junkie’s eyes fell shut, fingers twisting and toying with the ragged fabric of Ambrose’s clothes as they held each other, concealed by the black night’s darkness. “Don’t let her kill the goodness in you… I’d die.”

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AMBROSE had only become aware of his profound loneliness when she spoke. He had died young, denied a wife and marriage, denied any shade of love. Even in the years before, his existence had been so strained that he could not make time for it - could not justify it while his people had starved in squalor. Now, with her in his arms, her professing that she cared for him and claimed possession of him… He found himself speechless.

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“If she were to come for you, I will protect you. I will find a way. I vow that she will not take your life.” The last thing he would allow was to have Sally serve his mother in her murderous whims. To imagine Sally, killing for that monster… it ached. She was too pure for that life, too kind. Too sweet. He stroked her cheek with tenderness, staring down into her eyes. “Why do you poison your blood, when it makes you so violently ill? Sweet Sally… I will never let you touch a drop again.”

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There was no easy way to explain what he wanted to know, mostly because going sober had never even been part of the plan. Her having to flee Los Angeles like a common thief, running out of dope Sally needed to keep herself going for the declared junkie depended on it… life had taken a turn for the worst and everything she once took for granted had been violently ripped from between her fingers — no matter how hard she tried holding onto her last high that eventually died out, giving place to agony and tears. Exhausted and fearing she might lose her sanity any second now, the trembling woman nuzzled her head between his neck and shoulder to hide from the world around them, as best as she could.

“It wasn’t always like this. Getting high used to be… pure heaven, you know? The one light at the end of my dark tunnel.” It seemed like she had been plucked out of one nightmare just to be set adrift — with no hopes of finding a safe place to rebuild her waste of a life. Human sacrifices, blood-stained floors and spirits waiting for the perfect opportunity to seize her… but at least she had found him, a fellow broken soul. “You should have seen me back in the day… beautiful… you would have fallen in love with me.”

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EVERYTHING was acrid to his nose, but it was a life he was accustomed to… the smells of death and decay. Yet, as he looked in her eyes, he was sure that she wouldn’t die. She had strength in her, a strength he had seen before. Yet, to see her suffering like an injured bird left to die made his heart ache.

“Fret not, dear one. Fret not. I am here now.” He shifted to pull her into his arms as she begged to be held, adjusting until he had gotten the blanket tucked around her, keeping her warm. The last thing she needed was to let the chill in and turn her sweat to ice. That was surely the quickest way to die - he had seen it many times.

Ambrose hesitated, before he began to stroke her hair back from her face, looking at her with concern pooled deep in his eyes. “I will stay with you, until this fever passes. I will look after you.”

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A low whimper - proof of how painful it was to be moved like a boneless rag doll - escaped her and kept going until she was left laying with her back propped up against Ambrose’s chest, his arms secured tight around the blonde’s waist. He sure knew how to comfort a lady —— though still feeling the worst she ever had, a soft hum of appreciation followed his promise that he wasn’t going anywhere, at least not until things got better.

“Are you sure you won’t be missed? Hell, that woman out there would turn this place upside down just to find you — ” Sally’s head fell to the side, her cheek meeting his own that felt like ice against her burning skin… a nice kind of cold, though. “ — then murder me for trying to steal her precious baby.” When she opened her eyes, what they saw reflected into his brought a little pout to her already saddened expression. So worried, scared even… the junkie wasn’t used to being looked at like that. “But he’s not a baby – not anymore… he is my man.”

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IT almost sounded like a kicked dog - and yet it was still better than the cacophony of screaming pigs he’d become accustomed to - and he picked up his pace to hurry up the stairs into the room he’d heard it come from.

“Sally!” In alarm, he moved to sit beside her, blackened fingers stroking tentatively at her hair as he tried to see what was the matter. “Are you ill? You look to have a fever.” It was beyond his knowledge, what the lost souls of this world did to themselves, but it looked about the same. “Are you injured?” He was looking for blood, his heart sinking as he feared the worst - that someone might have come to kill her, and would leave her to bleed out… as he had once. Yet as he threw the covers back he saw no blood, only the sweat of some violent fever.

She shook like a leaf, and he moved to fix her blankets, wrapping her up tightly. “The best remedy for a fever is to keep warm, to let the poison that ails you sweat from your pores,” he told her, feeling very sure in his medical knowledge.”

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Had she not been on the verge of dying ( or at least it sure felt like it ) Sally would have taken a deep breath and answered each and every one of his desperate questions. Was she ill? That was one easy way to put it. However, Sally’s present affliction carried not only agonizing pain that no medication would have been able to fight back, but great meaning too —— one she couldn’t begin to explain, not even to herself.

Knowing he was there, ready and most importantly, willing to help her was the kind of boost the blonde needed to lift herself off the soaked bed - as best she could - and inch closer to Ambrose’s lap, seeking the kind of warmth that simply couldn’t be found in a pile of old blankets. “Hold me.” She whispered between clenched teeth, her nose finding refuge between the folds of his ancient trousers the colonial man wore with what seemed to be great pride. “I’ll be okay if I —— if I just sleep it off… it’s all my fault.” A sob, coming out from the depths of Sally’s pounding heart, caused her last words to falter and turn into yet another whimper.

It truly was the junkie’s fault — hers and hers alone. She couldn’t recall anyone pushing her over the edge of a bottomless pit of addiction, that wasn’t the way things happened. From the first moment a needle forced its way inside her body, Sally felt like she had found the one true love of her life, one that wouldn’t hurt her or leave… true love. But now, with every drop of sweat dripping from her pores, it was all being taken away from her.

moralslefttodecay:

@brokenragdoll

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THE penitent man was often prone to long silences, and that was still the case as he entered the house through a side door, quiet as he moved through the house to look the surprising companion he had made. It was the first visit he made that he couldn’t hear her echoing through the empty home, and that set his nerves on edge.

“Sally?” He called into the darkness as he entered the grand staircase. “Sally, are you here?”

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Terrible pain, cold everywhere… not a thousand blankets would have been enough to stop the mad shivering of Sally’s body sprawled out on her bed. This had to be the reason why junkies all over the world ( and since the beginning of time ) chose to stay hooked up, no matter how much pain and suffering addiction brought upon them. The runway blonde however, had no saying in the matter. Nausea had stopped, thank god; Sally didn’t think she could survive another round of puking her insides out yet knowing she was alone in the middle of nowhere wasn’t helping her calm down… until her ears caught up a voice calling out from the darkness, so close to the room she had claimed for herself.

A loud whimper, that’s all her flickering strength was able to produce — a pained, miserable cry for help that would hopefully lead Ambrose upstairs… right where he was needed the most.