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Taking back into the view of our deity Rixie, images flashed of a body carried in the frail and torn arms of the girl, clothing now hanging in rags and leaving a trail of blood behind, the only words now uttered were not said in the same voice, being ‘You’re too late…’, the movie continuing, much like an art gallery, her steps leaving behind cold memories as she stared at photographs, entering each to view its story. Finding herself amongst others in a hallway, she seemed to be on her way, passing by a rather tall, yet slender shadow, his face as well as his appearance appearing to shudder and shift as she kept trying to focus on it. Passing by this ever changing figure, she’d hear ‘Hey Rixie…’, her passage simply following its linear pattern as the silhouette lowered its hand and its head, replying ‘Of course…’ as it walked away from her, a punch to the head and a headache slithering our heroine into a new environment. The scent of mint and medicine, a silence which could overcome. Had the tastefully-gawking man gone so far as to stare outright, he may have noticed the occasional anomaly in her outfit. Jessica herself kept her knees pinched tightly together, and clutched the hem of her long suit jacket as though she feared it might fly away at any moment. Each jolt and jostle of the train sent her heart pounding as she pulled and stretched the fabric out of shape.The young man allowed his eyes to follow Jessica as she climbed out of her seat at Copley station. He puzzled as he noticed what looked like silver buckles peeking out beneath her jacket, at the back hem of her skirt. He blushed slightly as she held her briefcase behind her to cover it from public view before teetering down the stairs.The man's face was a mere pink glow compared to the beet-red grimace on Jessica's face. She proceeded out of the station in a tight-kneed shuffle, the briefcase still shielding the backs of her thighs from view. Her other hand held the front of her jacket together at the.
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