For one, shining, glorious moment, Billy feels only relief. He's crouched over the slutbag whore who made his mom leave, watching her gasp her final breaths, blood slick and warm on his hands and up his arms and drenching the old set of scrubs Stu bought at goodwill three towns over, and Billy lets the knife fall just so he can reach into the bitch's chest and feel her heart stop.
Maureen Prescott dies and Billy exhales contentment. He just sort of floats his way through the cleanup, the framing of the scapegoat, until the next morning, when he blinks awake to Stu sitting on the edge of his bed. "C'mon, buddy," Stu says, jiggling Billy's feet beneath the blanket. "Got school and don't wanna be late."
"What?" he mumbles, kicking at Stu, who just grins at him.
He remembers in flashes, in gushes of blood, and he clings as tight as he can to that feeling, when she breathed her last breath and he almost caught it in his hands.
The feeling lasts for most of the day. It lights up when Sidney sobs in his lap, and Billy rests his head on hers as he holds her, looking at Stu over Sidney, throughout the manhunt and arrest, and the trial. It flickers but never fades, that sense of contentment.
And then it goes, that shining, glorious moment. It's like all the color in the world just goes away. He needs it back because what's the point, if everything is gray?
"Hey," Stu says, a month after Cotton Weary gets sent to death row. "Wanna come hunting with me?"
"Yeah, sure," Billy mutters.
Stu waits until they're far from town, tracking some animal Billy would never be able to find on his own, to say, "Y'know how Casey dumped me two weeks ago?"
Billy listens, and color bleeds back into the world.
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pre-canon (warnings for lots of gore)
Date: 2023-03-20 08:54 pm (UTC)For one, shining, glorious moment, Billy feels only relief. He's crouched over the slutbag whore who made his mom leave, watching her gasp her final breaths, blood slick and warm on his hands and up his arms and drenching the old set of scrubs Stu bought at goodwill three towns over, and Billy lets the knife fall just so he can reach into the bitch's chest and feel her heart stop.
Maureen Prescott dies and Billy exhales contentment. He just sort of floats his way through the cleanup, the framing of the scapegoat, until the next morning, when he blinks awake to Stu sitting on the edge of his bed. "C'mon, buddy," Stu says, jiggling Billy's feet beneath the blanket. "Got school and don't wanna be late."
"What?" he mumbles, kicking at Stu, who just grins at him.
He remembers in flashes, in gushes of blood, and he clings as tight as he can to that feeling, when she breathed her last breath and he almost caught it in his hands.
The feeling lasts for most of the day. It lights up when Sidney sobs in his lap, and Billy rests his head on hers as he holds her, looking at Stu over Sidney, throughout the manhunt and arrest, and the trial. It flickers but never fades, that sense of contentment.
And then it goes, that shining, glorious moment. It's like all the color in the world just goes away. He needs it back because what's the point, if everything is gray?
"Hey," Stu says, a month after Cotton Weary gets sent to death row. "Wanna come hunting with me?"
"Yeah, sure," Billy mutters.
Stu waits until they're far from town, tracking some animal Billy would never be able to find on his own, to say, "Y'know how Casey dumped me two weeks ago?"
Billy listens, and color bleeds back into the world.