Tag: berrysweetsims

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“You need to let it go now
Before you drown
I know that you won’t understand
But you need to let go of this hand
‘Cause I’m going down
And I don’t wanna take you down with me”

Provence’s legs trembled as she tried to push herself up off of the floor. Even with Hal’s hand helping her to balance, she could feel the gradual pull of the floor on her as she tilted to the side. She blinked twice as she looked up at what appeared to be two of her orange friend, smiling sheepishly. “Carry me?”

She watched as one of his thick eyebrows curved in an arch, taking note of the slight tug of a smirk on his lips. “You are utterly hopeless, aren’t you?” he teased, but still allowed her to crawl onto her back, her slender legs, wrapping themselves around his hips and her arms around his shoulders.

“Good thing I have you to take care of me!” Provence rested her head chin on the stop of Halloween’s head, leaning into the slender muscles of his back. 

“You could at least try and help me out with that.” 

It hurt to hear him say that. She knew that he didn’t mind coming to get her. That he would do it every night song long as it meant she was safe. But the guilt flared inside of her stomach because she knew. Provence knew that she took advantage of his kindness towards her. She pressed a kiss to the side of his head, taking in the soft scent of his hair. “Hey Hal,” she spoke softly against him, “thanks for everything.” 

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“Sometimes I get so high
Falling is the only out I see
And I don’t wanna take you down with me”

“Ember is looking for you,” Hal said.

“Ember shmeber,” Mango replied, scrunching her nose indignantly. “If he wants me to be home at night, he has to stop bringing blue boy over. The berry is a screamer Hal. He does so in French. My poor virgin ears can’t handle it.”

Provence laughed behind her. “Virgin ears? That’s a good one Mango. You’re one of the dirtiest berries I have ever met.”

“You know what?” Mango started then shook her head, “Tea. But I’m still not leaving.”

Hal sighed, “What do you plan to do? Sleep here?”

Mango looked over at the discarded mattress in the corner behind her. “I could just sleep here.”

“Mango,” Hal replied, his face contorted in disgust, the mattress had faded to a shade of brown-grey that made him not only wonder how it had been there but also fear for what had been done on it. “Do you want the plague? Because I’m pretty sure that’s how you get the plague.”

“Fine, I’ll go home, but if they’re doing it when I get there, I’m calling you so you can suffer with me.” She forced herself up from Provence’s lap, sticking her tongue out at Hal as she passed him by. 

Hal crouched down next to Provence, giving her a concerned smile. “Do you think you can stand?” he asked.

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“When I close my eyes
I’m fighting in the dark
Trying not to break your heart”

Hal could hear them long before he could see them. The sounds of their laughter drifted through the air guiding his steps. He found them, on the floor, of course, the bottle of vodka in hand, Mango trying to calm her waves of laughter as Provence pressed the mouth of the bottle to her lips. He wondered if their position on the floor was because they were too drunk to care or too drunk to stand. Intuition told him it was the latter. 

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“Sometimes it’s like an ocean
And it gets too deep
And there’s no way that now you could rescue me”

How many times had they done this now? Halloween had started to lose count, but he knew it had been at least twice this week already. At least he knew he could always count on Bergamot–you better call me Monty–Mint to call him whenever Provence got out of hand. 

“How bad is it this time?” he asked, almost afraid to know the answer. 

Monty hummed, a noise Hal was surprised he could hear over the steady beat of the music, “It’s not nearly as bad as last time. She seems pretty tame, at least for now. Mango showed up so they snagged a bottle of Vanilla Skyy and snuck off to the back of the pool house.”

Bless Mango. 

“Where are they at?”

“They snuck off towards the back, where they keep the old Mermaid statue.”

“Thanks, Monty, you’re a lifesaver.”

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“This life is like a razor
When it cuts, I bleed
But it’s in my hand and I’m doing it to me”

It had become a ritual for her, slipping through her window in the depths of the night. Provence was always careful, taking quiet steps to ensure that no one would hear her leave. She sometimes wondered if all the care was necessary. Would they even notice if she just disappeared? An answer that she fears would be no. 

Every time it amazed her how easy it was to slip into a crowd, to blend into the waves, just another body in a sea of people just as lost as she was. The benefit of living in a town where the main claim to fame was the local university: there were always new faces and she would always be forgotten.

Provence poured herself another drink, the deep bass of the music humming through her body, making her feel electrified. This had become the only place she felt sane; drink in her hand and the music pulsing through her veins. 

From the Diary of Provence Rose:

“The truth is… quite the opposite. Mom and Step-Dad are continually oblivious to the extent that Patras has learned to manipulate them. Even from a young age… he’s always had an understanding of people far beyond his years. He knows how to get them to believe exactly what he wants them to…

…He knows how to make them break.”

From the Diary of Provence Rose:

“There is something wrong with Patras.

I knew from the moment he was born, that boy might as well be the devil himself. Even as an infant there was something just… off about him. Something not quite right. What kind of baby doesn’t cry?

It only got worse as he got older. He’s always been seen as “the good child,” quiet and obedient. Not like Athens. Athens who is loud and full of life… who always smiles, and jokes… and causes all the mischief you expect of a young boy. How is he supposed to compare to mother’s perfect angel?”