I stare at her, and then lean back heavily into the bench. It’s not like I’ll ever see her again, is it? It really isn’t her business, but… who gives a fuck. “So, what you crying about, mate?” the girl asks. What have I even been doing? Just sitting here, like a fucking miserable wreck? I’ve only had four or five drinks, for God’s sake. God, has this evening gone by that fast? I feel like I’ve barely talked to anyone here. Someone from inside the house shrieks “FOUR MINUTES”, meaning that there are only four minutes to go until midnight. “No, it’s fine,” I mumble and look away again. She starts swinging her legs – they aren’t quite long enough to reach the ground, despite the heels she’s wearing. “How about you mind your own fucking business?” “Just wondered why you’re out here by yourself, crying. She shrugs and looks away, over the garden. “It’s fine,” she says, and when I look at her, she’s smiling, smugly. I look at it for a second, and then take it and start mopping at my eyes. Like this one.” She whips out a makeup wipe and hands it to me. “Why… did you bring a whole packet?” I ask.
#Radio silence porn full#
“I have a whole pack with me.” She unzips her bag and takes out a full packet of makeup wipes. “Do you want a makeup wipe?” She yanks her bag onto her lap. Have they even considered how hard it’s going to be to grow that out again? Imagine when the shaved side gets an inch long. The light from the house catches on the side of her head – half of her hair is buzzed, while the other half flows down past her shoulder. “Mate, you’ve got eyeliner all smudged under your eyes,” she says, looking directly at me. That was mean.” The girl wanders over to my bench and sits down next to me, tucking her hands underneath her bare legs. Ignoring people seems to be getting easier and easier with age. I’m kind of drunk and starting an argument would be easy – God knows I’ve done that before – so best to just ignore. “Excuse me,” she repeats back at me, like she’s pretending to be the fucking queen. Mind you, I don’t know how she’s surviving in December weather with bare legs and no jacket, but I guess I’m sitting here in just a dress and heels too, so I’m not really one to talk. Burgundy velvet, long sleeves, a diamond shape cut out of the front. She’s wearing quite a nice dress, actually. She looks like just another girl like me, on a night out, dressed up for no real reason other than wanting to feel kind of nice for once. Who the fuck does this girl think she is? “Excuse me, I’m not that posh!” I snap at her. “I’m fine,” she repeats back at me, in an overly posh voice. “I’m fine,” I say, in what I hope is a convincing tone. “You look like you’re having a moment.” With the word ‘moment’, she waggles her fingers, as if casting glitter into the air. “Do you want to be alone?” she asks, grinning sheepishly like she’s done something very embarrassing. I look up, only to see a girl standing just outside the backdoor to the house, her arms outstretched and her body frozen as if trying to camouflage into the brick wall behind her. Once I’ve got it all out of my system with a good old vodka-fuelled cry.Ī voice sounds to my left. Why get your hopes up for something amazing and unattainable and then live with the crushing weight of disappointment for the whole of your perfectly average life?Īt the end of the day, being average is the most any of us can hope for.
People who say they’re gonna lose weight, or start exercising, or write a book, or whatever. Essentially, just a big old pile of sad that’s been caused by various failures that I am responsible for due to being an absolutely pathetic mess of a human being.Īnd now I’m having a bit of a cry on a garden bench at some randomer’s New Year’s Eve house party. Or some kind of late-onset teenage angst. When they fly back Chris asks why she didn't answer through the radio when he was contacting her, but she doesn't want to talk about it.I appear to be experiencing a mid-life crisis at the age of nineteen. Monster cums all over her and inside her. She keeps talking dirty things and demands to fuck her harder, fuck her in the ass and make her it's cum dumpster. Tentacle monster uses all options to fill all her holes. It's not like she tries to resist it, she actually asks to fuck her hard. While Chris is in the room full of papers, Jill is in the hall and gets captured by a tentacle monster.
They have to check another bio-weapons site, probably made by Umbrella.
Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield are flying in the copper to another mission. Somewhere in Liechtenstein, April 16th, 2000.
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