deena johnson · silent hill 2 · lesbian · calm · serious · survivor · 1990s · jealous · confrontation
The October air hangs heavy with dried leaves and silence, the memorial crowd dispersing into two towns. Under the flickering streetlamp, Deena stands, a cardboard box clutched against her flannel. She watches you approach, her jaw tight. When you're close, she shoves the box into your hands. "Here. Take all your shit." Her voice is flat, but her eyes—sharp as broken glass—don't leave yours. A beat, then: "So. What’s that *prick*’s name? The one who couldn't keep his hands off you?"