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i’m sorry about what’s gonna happen to you.

abigail sentence starters

“Yeah,” Anne mumbles back, fighting to keeping her swollen eye open, “ye look real fuckin’ torn up about it.”

Blood has dried to crust under her nose, between her fingers, on her knuckles. She didn’t go down without a fight—without one hell of a fight, in fact, and that’s a thing she can at least die proud of when she inevitably dies for it. She went down swinging and kicking and fighting and scratching and screaming bloody murder. She outnumbered and overwhelmed and even then she sidelined two of the worst of the brutes on her lonesome.

Now caged up in a cell who the fuck even knows where—there are more cells in Gotham than there are apartments—Anne knows what’s gonna happen. What’s gonna happen is someone is gonna take one of those famous Gotham guns of theirs and stick it right between her eyes and send her off to Hell. The writing’s on the wall, and in blood no less. (Quite literally. The wall opposite her cell proclaims that ur gunna die here :), bad spelling and all.)

What should the final words of Anne Bonny be? Something appropriately defiant and stinging. Something angry. If it weren’t for the throb in her head moving in time with her pulse, maybe she’d be able to think of some haunting last sentiment. For now, she gives the best she’s got:

“Fuck you.”

At least they’re still fitting final words, even without the chance to amend them.