and now my bitter hands shake beneath the clouds

[Jefferson Soul]

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http://i57.photobucket.com/albums/g210/ ... itable.png);background-position:bottom;background-repeat:no-repeat;"> Jefferson is kind of depressed. >_> Why wasn't she gone yet? He could see the fear in her eyes, in her bright, innocent green eyes, and he felt the guilt, but he could not stop. He was at wit's end with life; he wanted to hide away, sleep for days, start over. Before he was anywhere near the lands he stood on now, he'd attempted suicide a couple times, considered it plenty more, succeeded not once. Her green eyes were nothing like his. She hadn't seen the things he had, gore and bloodshed, tragedy in the eyes of children. There was still a spark within her eyes, though it was flooded with the fear she harbored of him, but it was there. Jefferson wondered where his had been, had gone. He wondered if he'd ever had a spark at all. He stepped a few paces closer to her, at which point it became increasingly obvious that he towered over her in height. Standing immediately over her, he bent at his waist a little and pointed his bitter green eye into hers. Breathing down on her a long moment, he spoke suddenly, in a caustically grim tone: "That's right," he hissed, hot breath blown onto her face. "I want all of you to just disappear." There was a brief moment longer spent glaring at her one-eyed, before he stepped back, scowled, and spun on his heel. "Now get off my lands," he grunted, starting away.

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