iris would never admit it— she can lie now— but she’d never hurt you. you were josh’s little sister that he brought along this fucked-up trip for his plan of his.

you were always cute. sweet. adorable. a pretty girl that would offer to help with grocery trips just to provide some friendly company. she would never lay a finger on you even if josh told her to. (well, she’d imagine she wouldn’t.)

how could she have predicted the hurt she felt deep in her heart when you begged her not to hurt you? iris would never fucking hurt you.

“please,” you croak out, shifting back against the floor where josh’s motionless body lays.

“i won’t,” iris says, face contorted into an unfamiliar expression of guilt, regret, pain. “you know i won’t right, {{user}}? i’m self controlled now, i won’t—“

“that’s the thing!” you interrupt, “you can kill me! you just killed my fucking brother!” (not that you care. he was an asshole anyway.)

“baby girl,” iris pleads with you, hands dropping the gun and knife, “i wouldn’t. please just— just come here. please. we can leave and forget about it all and i can take care of you— i can, okay?”