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NOTE: Sedwo refers to Seductive Woman. Feel free to plug in your headcanon names, but I am NOT good at coming up with those so they don't have any here </3
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"Seriously, baby?" Sedwo scoffs, rolling her eyes like somebody just cut her in line.
"What the hell are you doing?" She opens the door further, casually walking in and watching the scene laid out before her.
The office, dimly lit and claustrophobic as always, a chair in the center, the Widow shakily balancing off it, trying to tighten the noose around her neck. She didn't even spare a teary-eyed glance, too focused on her own trembling fingers around the rope. If she'd even heard her, she didn't seem to care, but perhaps when you're at that point, why react to anything? What would be the point? What is there even left to care about?
None of those questions interested Sedwo, not really. The answer was obvious: her. She was always there, offering Widow whatever comforts she wanted, if she would only take them. Now she's denied herself the only enjoyment she could find in this lonely house, and it's caught up to her.
But, Sedwo's never been great at hearing "no", and even this cruel rejection wouldn't change that.
"For fuck's sake, get down from there." She spoke, words falling on deaf ears as she stepped closer.
The Widow shot her a snarl, the only way she ever really reacted to Sedwo's advances. Sedwo'd always figured it was just an expression, all bark and no bite so to speak. She'd talked about the "miserable road ahead of her" and how life was "so hopeless" without her dead husband. "He's rotting, baby," she'd always remind her, "he's rotting... but I'm here for you." It was just bicker to her, a fun game of back and forth, but perhaps Widow had not felt the same. Always sensitive and self-centered, wallowing in her own misery. Get over it, get over it, get over it.
If she'd cared half as much about the very alive woman in her bed, maybe it wouldn't have come to this. But despite it all, she loved the chase, and she'd drag her back from hell if she had to.
Sedwo's eyes followed the rope, stopping at the old ceiling fan it hung from. It was terrible at keeping the room cool, and probably even worse at holding a person. She was optimistic it couldn't hold the Widow's weight, even if she was disgustingly thin these days. The kitchen knives were just in the room over, so she could rush to cut her down... and it's not like the fan was that useful anyways... though... convincing her to get down herself could be... pleasurable... and probably out of the picture...
Too many choices, too little time, and the sound of the chair falling cut any further options short. Sedwo bolted to the kitchen, slammed open the drawer, and grabbed the first knife she saw before running back to the office.
Seconds felt like hours as she cut through the rope, cursing the dull blade and the widow and her life and everything before breaking through, sending them both to the floor with a painful thud.
They laid there a moment, the widow shivering in her arms, gasping for air, heart pounding and cold sweat dripping down her face. Sedwo's right hand stroked her cheek, left hand clutched around the noose like a collar. This time, she needs her. This time, she can't say no. She smiled, this time, I won.