"I guess that makes sense... we were talking in Japanese in my last echo," Misa murmurs, continuing to skim the article. She hadn't really thought about it; Japanese was the default in her mind, it only made sense for memories to be in her native language.
The doppelganger is thoroughly ignored as Misa continues reading about her alter-ego's one-in-a-million life.
It's been a rough year between her manager's arrest for drug possession and Misa-Misa's subsequent mysterious two-month disappearance, but sources have denied her involvement and insisted she simply needed a break from the entertainment world. Some are even saying it was all a publicity stunt! Whatever the reason,
Misa's eyes go unfocused, words blurring together and room falling away. Everything is dark, everything is silent. Her eyes are covered, and her entire body aches like she's been standing in place for hours. Her back is pressed against something hard and flat, her bare feet forced apart by shackles on her ankles. Her arms are folded against her stomach by what feels like a straight jacket, and she can feel additional restraints at her crotch, her breasts, her hips, her neck. Her legs are completely bare up to mid-thigh, she is cold and stiff and hungry and parched and she can't see anything but blackness. She is going to die like this.
Misa screams, heart racing as she comes back to the stairwell crying, magazine on the ground. She instinctively curls inward on herself, hugging her legs with her head against her knees. What was that? She tries to breathe but can't, shaking and gasping with the ghost feeling of a strap against her neck.
no subject
The doppelganger is thoroughly ignored as Misa continues reading about her alter-ego's one-in-a-million life.
It's been a rough year between her manager's arrest for drug possession and Misa-Misa's subsequent mysterious two-month disappearance, but sources have denied her involvement and insisted she simply needed a break from the entertainment world. Some are even saying it was all a publicity stunt! Whatever the reason,
Misa's eyes go unfocused, words blurring together and room falling away. Everything is dark, everything is silent. Her eyes are covered, and her entire body aches like she's been standing in place for hours. Her back is pressed against something hard and flat, her bare feet forced apart by shackles on her ankles. Her arms are folded against her stomach by what feels like a straight jacket, and she can feel additional restraints at her crotch, her breasts, her hips, her neck. Her legs are completely bare up to mid-thigh, she is cold and stiff and hungry and parched and she can't see anything but blackness. She is going to die like this.
Misa screams, heart racing as she comes back to the stairwell crying, magazine on the ground. She instinctively curls inward on herself, hugging her legs with her head against her knees. What was that? She tries to breathe but can't, shaking and gasping with the ghost feeling of a strap against her neck.