The Last Robotica (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thefolksbetween) wrote2010-08-06 08:47 am
thefolksbetween) wrote2010-08-06 08:47 am
Claudio ~ AU trauma times... For: Shelly
Who: Claudio Kilgannon, Trauma,
What: AU Idea between Shelly and myself. “What if Claudio had meet Trauma in Edelweiss and not Siren’s Port?” It rambled out for heart breaking ideas that had to be put in pixils and page.
When: Time matters not...
Where: Taking character interactions from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sirenspull and placing them into the past RP game of St. Edelweiss.
Rating: R?- Unedited.
Note: Mentions: Voldemort, Jinx, Reeve, The Pirate, etc... all of which were badly stolen from old game days. Nothing drastic. Entire post is compiled from random shit from a bad game.
Shelly's version of this AU
The morning had started out as every morning in the facility had. It was cold, it felt dark, and the aches and pains from the night medical session were still fresh in mind as well as body.
Therapy; the term had become something to be fearful of. The beginning of the week those sadistic bastard doctors chose people form a list of names, and this week his name had been pulled. He wasn’t really surprised to hear the doctor calling his name, not really. It was more the fear that struck him as he heard it, like anyone else in this facility.
He had tried hard to blend in, like they wanted. When he arrived he didn’t remember much and though he was told why he was there, and by whom, he didn’t really believe it. How could he? His mother and father put him here? He’d killed his sister and was charged with murder, only to be placed here for insanity? That never made sense to him!
Yes, yes he remembered holding Josephine in his arms, feeling the blood seep between his fingers; feeling the still warm blood soak his shirt as he held her close, willing her to be alive, to be alright. He was sure she woke up, spoke to him. Told him what happened to her. The Jersey Devils had raped her, had hurt her. Then something was after him! She warned him “Claudio... dear... Claud-dio...”
Something else. He could never remember what else she told him.
He knew for a fact he didn’t kill her though. She was there when he got home. When Newo dropped him off. Newo... he began to think, shaking his head of those thoughts. “No...” his voice was a grumble, the first set of words he’s spoken this morning.
He rolled over in the bed, glad to have the space all his own right now. Lately the cell mate he had seemed to be full of greed and demanding the bed for herself. The pink haired little super brat wasn’t there at the moment though, or so he couldn’t see. Perhaps she was hiding out at that Reeve guy’s place, or perhaps she was in her own medical treatment. He didn’t know, he didn’t care. He was still too numb in pain to really care about anything.
Anything but what was wandering about in his broken mind that is.
The doctor said his father had made the final choice, to place him here for help instead of the local stockades or jail. The terms used here seemed so old to him. He was from a world of worlds, not a single place. That was something else he was told was wrong too. The boy learned, and he learned fast. He was from Earth; Just Earth, not Silent Earth Three or Heraticus, or Shylos Ten or any other place he actually knew he was from. He said it now, that he was from earth and that his father put him in here.
His father and his mother. The doctor had reinforced that it was both of them. When he asked the doctor if he could call his mother he was informed he could not. “But I just want to hear her voice again. Please?” He was told that she asked never to be contacted. That she couldn’t stand to hear his voice after what happened.
What did happen? He... was unclear. So very unclear. The last he remembered hearing his father destroyed part o the Keywork and his mother killed him to save it again. Planets broke free. A star was destroyed... a sun born. That... hell that seemed insane to him as well. Had his mind really made up these things?
A few week before he had been seated at a table in the library, talking in private with the dark haired boy, Trauma. Legs curled up under himself, a book in his lap, and just... ignoring the book, talking to the boy. He was a bit older then him, and an Assistant to the Doctor Voldemort... so that there should have told him not to say anything. Trauma seemed pretty... cool though. Someone who was just working a shitty job.
They had a lot in common, and when he spoke about his past Trauma seemed to believe him, really. It was the first time that he felt like he could be himself around someone; that speaking to him and being believed wasn’t impossible... because he wasn’t a patient here also. That was the problem with talking to the others about these things. They were all considered crazy too. Were any of them really crazy or not? He didn’t know.
It was nice to talk to someone who was considered sane though, and even better that he just... got along really well with him. Sometimes he’d meet in the library with Trauma just to talk in private, off the communications devices. He never felt judged or insane, so it helped a lot.
Thus when his name got called the other night, that he would have Therapy with Doctor Voldemort he found himself frightened (he’d heard the rumors about the doctor of course) but also a bit comforted that the doctors Assistant would be there too. Right? He’d gotten to know the fellow a bit more. It should be alright. A true medical procedure that was meant to help him.
Claudio took a deeper breath where he lay in the cells bed, his hans tightening around his middle more, breath coming harder suddenly. “Fuck...” There was a pain in his chest, in his side and he was cold, breath coming harder to him. The intercom was filled with people talking so early in the morning. People complaining, talking, crying. Cell doors clicked open and others rummaged around, but he stay laying on the bed, trying to breath.
Get it out of your head... stop... thinking about anything... he told himself, trying to calm down. What was he thinking on before? What made him get to this point?
Therapy; it was last night. Trauma had come to his cell to collect him. He tried to ask the older boy questions, but he was silent. Very silent, like he didn’t want to be doing this. The dread had sunk in deeper as he heard people talking over the intercoms while he was collected. The Pirate had yelled something to the boy leading him, out her cell door. ‘You bastard! How can you take him! You know what he’s going to do to him! You know what’s going to happen! Claudio, run!’ but the pirate girl had always been loud and over reacted, right?
The sinking feeling inside had made him wonder if it was really an over reaction though. People came back from these things wounded, hurting, crying, sobbing, screaming even. They never came back safe, did they?
He could hear someone else over the intercoms as the two walked the hall. Protests, they always protested. ‘No, to him. He’s just a boy.’ Or ‘have a heart. He’s not done anything!’ and any number of obscenities. It was times like this that he was surprised security didn’t come down to the cells and tranquilize everyone all at once.
‘Why wont you tell me anything?’ he has asked the boy, walking up closer to him, trying to look up to him, to see his face. It was... expressionless. No, that wasn’t right. There was something there but he couldn’t figuring it out. ‘Trauma?’ he had asked, but got no answers, just more screaming over the lines.
Breathing got hard again, curled up on the bed, doubled over. What the hell happened to him? “Why didn’t you stop it...” he found himself muttering, knowing now that it wasn’t a fair statement. He knew better then too. He knew better then what he had said at that last moment also.
‘What?! No way! I didn’t do anything! I didn’t kill my sister! I didn’t do anything like that. That wasn’t me damn it! You have to believe me!’ He yelled it at the doctor, stepping back from the tray of tools and the operation table. The snake faced nose-less doctor stood only inches taller then him, but seemed to be hovering everyone anyhow. Stepping back he ran right smack into Trauma.
Startled he had turned to the boy and blurted out ‘Come on! You know I didn’t kill anyone! And even if I did there’s no reason for this! Tell him!’ but the boy said nothing. His eyes looked even blanker then before. ‘What did I do to deserve...’ but he was cut off suddenly, something binding his legs to his arms, in mid air. His eyes went wide; he was dragged back to the table and the binding gone.
‘Secure the straps, Assistant Ward.’ The doctor had said and just like that the boy came over, doing as told. There was a moment when Claudio thought the boy was going to say something, but instead he reached for his wrist, to restrain him. Fighting back he tried to make a jump for it, to slip past the boy and hopefully for the door. He hadn’t been thinking. He wasn’t thinking.
Stop thinking! He told himself loudly in his head, rolling to his back now, gasping a bit as his hands, smeared with blood moved to push back his hair. Eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling. His chest burned, his head ached. His body ached, all over. “Stop thinking...”
But he couldn’t stop now. Eyes wide open he let his mind wander still, to the cold of the straps being put down, to the mutter... had the boy said something? It won’t be as bad as he thought, was that it? He couldn’t tell. He was yelling too much to be able to tell what was said. ‘I thought you were my friend!’ he had said in fear, and though he really didn’t mean the accusing sound of it, and he did believe Trauma to be his friend, well... he was scared. Very scared. The long, very long time he had been there he had managed to stay out of a lot of therapy groups. It never dawned on him why he had missed so many of them before this.
Or better yet he had a hunch that there was a reason for it. That reason was what made his head hurt right now, laying on that bed. He knew better then what he had said. He knew that Trauma was in a shitty position. He was sure that the reason he hadn’t been to therapy often was because of Trauma.
“Shit...” His hands pressed harder into his eyes now, trying to block out the therapy form that night. It was hard to get most of it, the gas mask pressed tightly to his face like that.
The mask seemed heavy when it was over his face, body strapped in. The doctor was saying something to Trauma, and though he could barely see the boys face, he saw a flash of something there. Surprise? He struggled again against the straps, head feeling heavy now. What was this gas?
He heard Trauma speak, though he was sure the words were not ‘The Prise wishes you to watch over me...’ and should most likely be something more relevant to anything that had to do with this operation therapy. As a matter of fact the sound of the Doctor speaking back to the assistant shouldn’t have sounded like a Priest yelling, but it did. He felt the welling of fear coming back to him as he watched the boy point sharply at him and speak... well it seemed loudly, back to the doctor.
There was a fog or haze that drifted over his eyes a moment later. Faint white figures paint his sleep and when he fell asleep he felt nothing for ages. He felt nothing and knew nothing at the time.
Come what may.
It wasn’t until he woke up here in the cell bed, alone and numb that things were really getting to him. He remembered conversations, sure, or more words the doctor uttered while he leaned over him, wand out, a burning in his chest. He remembered the pain that the gas didn’t fully knock out of him, but he didn’t remember seeing the boy there anymore.
“S-shit... S-some... one...” she let out a small gasp as he felt his hand over his chest. There were stitches there, but it felt like they were broken. His movements must have popped one, the heavy breathing. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt and he didn’t know how to make the panic stop. Or where it came from. Perhaps the thought of being alone here, no one on his side, and even if they were they couldn’t do anything.
The panic raising in him kept him from noticing the dark figure that slipped into the door. He closed his eyes, trying to gain control again. He needed to breath and--- He let out a yelp, hearing someone now. Beside him.
“Calm down...” the voice was soft, barely heard over the panicked breaths. “Lay still...”
His eyes opened to see Trauma, emotionless but with shadowed eyes, moving to sit next to him on the bed. He winced, feeling the movements, but tried to settle down, his breath still fast. “Hurts...” He managed out, watching the boys hand as he moved over to check the bloody area. There were two places he had been cut open, he hadn’t even really noticed the second one lower down.
“Trauma?” He gasped, trying to look up to see the other boy looking over the wounds. “I... I didn’t mean wha--”
“Shh...” the older boy hissed, silent, cleaning the wounds. “Just stop moving.”
He tried to stop moving, tried to lay there and catch his breathing. To calm down. It was hard to do, it hurt and he found he was still scared... but watching the boy silently work to clean up the bleeding, the careful touch of cloth to wound and how it didn’t hurt when he did it, well it was calming some.
“You weren’t there?” He asked randomly, trying to get a better image of the boy.
“I... wasn’t required anymore.” Trauma said stiffly, looking only at the wounds that he was cleaning. “Lay still...”
“I was just...”
“Scared. I know.”
The boy moved to wring out the cloth he was using, turning just enough to give Claudio a clear view. He nearly sat up, startled to see it. “W-what happened?” His face was puffed on the one side, reddened and bruised. There was a small bandage tape crossed over an angry cut. Trying to sit up to see better, he hissed, falling back again, hand coming to his side. Fuck that hurt.
Annoyed sounding the boy said once more “Lay still!” and placed a hand to Claudio’s chest, pushing him back down. “Nothing happened. If you don’t stay still I’m leaving...”
Claudio stayed still. His eyes watching the boys face, frowning. He got hurt last night too... he thought as he tried to study it. Instead of talking he just lay there, trying to ignore how much he hurt. It was as the boy finished up that he spoke again.
“I didn’t mean what I said... about you being a friend? I...”
He was cut off again, Trauma holding a hand up, collecting the stuff he brought, and leaving a tiny brown bottle of pills on the bed beside the boy. “You were right thought.” He said darkly, before starting to leave. “Hide those. Their for pain.” And started for the door.
Laying in the bed, eyes watching the assistant leave, he felt another moment of confusion. He was right? But which did that mean? He said ‘I thought you were my friend’ so... did that mean he was or... that the statement at the time was right.
He took one of the pills, curling over even though he shouldn’t and closed his eyes. He wanted to forget about today, last night, and everything between. He wasn’t sure on anything and he was so very tired after all that. Not because of the hurt but the confusion. He hated this place for what it was and what it was doing to him. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore and that was the worst part.
What: AU Idea between Shelly and myself. “What if Claudio had meet Trauma in Edelweiss and not Siren’s Port?” It rambled out for heart breaking ideas that had to be put in pixils and page.
When: Time matters not...
Where: Taking character interactions from
sirenspull and placing them into the past RP game of St. Edelweiss. Rating: R?- Unedited.
Note: Mentions: Voldemort, Jinx, Reeve, The Pirate, etc... all of which were badly stolen from old game days. Nothing drastic. Entire post is compiled from random shit from a bad game.
Shelly's version of this AU
The morning had started out as every morning in the facility had. It was cold, it felt dark, and the aches and pains from the night medical session were still fresh in mind as well as body.
Therapy; the term had become something to be fearful of. The beginning of the week those sadistic bastard doctors chose people form a list of names, and this week his name had been pulled. He wasn’t really surprised to hear the doctor calling his name, not really. It was more the fear that struck him as he heard it, like anyone else in this facility.
He had tried hard to blend in, like they wanted. When he arrived he didn’t remember much and though he was told why he was there, and by whom, he didn’t really believe it. How could he? His mother and father put him here? He’d killed his sister and was charged with murder, only to be placed here for insanity? That never made sense to him!
Yes, yes he remembered holding Josephine in his arms, feeling the blood seep between his fingers; feeling the still warm blood soak his shirt as he held her close, willing her to be alive, to be alright. He was sure she woke up, spoke to him. Told him what happened to her. The Jersey Devils had raped her, had hurt her. Then something was after him! She warned him “Claudio... dear... Claud-dio...”
Something else. He could never remember what else she told him.
He knew for a fact he didn’t kill her though. She was there when he got home. When Newo dropped him off. Newo... he began to think, shaking his head of those thoughts. “No...” his voice was a grumble, the first set of words he’s spoken this morning.
He rolled over in the bed, glad to have the space all his own right now. Lately the cell mate he had seemed to be full of greed and demanding the bed for herself. The pink haired little super brat wasn’t there at the moment though, or so he couldn’t see. Perhaps she was hiding out at that Reeve guy’s place, or perhaps she was in her own medical treatment. He didn’t know, he didn’t care. He was still too numb in pain to really care about anything.
Anything but what was wandering about in his broken mind that is.
The doctor said his father had made the final choice, to place him here for help instead of the local stockades or jail. The terms used here seemed so old to him. He was from a world of worlds, not a single place. That was something else he was told was wrong too. The boy learned, and he learned fast. He was from Earth; Just Earth, not Silent Earth Three or Heraticus, or Shylos Ten or any other place he actually knew he was from. He said it now, that he was from earth and that his father put him in here.
His father and his mother. The doctor had reinforced that it was both of them. When he asked the doctor if he could call his mother he was informed he could not. “But I just want to hear her voice again. Please?” He was told that she asked never to be contacted. That she couldn’t stand to hear his voice after what happened.
What did happen? He... was unclear. So very unclear. The last he remembered hearing his father destroyed part o the Keywork and his mother killed him to save it again. Planets broke free. A star was destroyed... a sun born. That... hell that seemed insane to him as well. Had his mind really made up these things?
A few week before he had been seated at a table in the library, talking in private with the dark haired boy, Trauma. Legs curled up under himself, a book in his lap, and just... ignoring the book, talking to the boy. He was a bit older then him, and an Assistant to the Doctor Voldemort... so that there should have told him not to say anything. Trauma seemed pretty... cool though. Someone who was just working a shitty job.
They had a lot in common, and when he spoke about his past Trauma seemed to believe him, really. It was the first time that he felt like he could be himself around someone; that speaking to him and being believed wasn’t impossible... because he wasn’t a patient here also. That was the problem with talking to the others about these things. They were all considered crazy too. Were any of them really crazy or not? He didn’t know.
It was nice to talk to someone who was considered sane though, and even better that he just... got along really well with him. Sometimes he’d meet in the library with Trauma just to talk in private, off the communications devices. He never felt judged or insane, so it helped a lot.
Thus when his name got called the other night, that he would have Therapy with Doctor Voldemort he found himself frightened (he’d heard the rumors about the doctor of course) but also a bit comforted that the doctors Assistant would be there too. Right? He’d gotten to know the fellow a bit more. It should be alright. A true medical procedure that was meant to help him.
Claudio took a deeper breath where he lay in the cells bed, his hans tightening around his middle more, breath coming harder suddenly. “Fuck...” There was a pain in his chest, in his side and he was cold, breath coming harder to him. The intercom was filled with people talking so early in the morning. People complaining, talking, crying. Cell doors clicked open and others rummaged around, but he stay laying on the bed, trying to breath.
Get it out of your head... stop... thinking about anything... he told himself, trying to calm down. What was he thinking on before? What made him get to this point?
Therapy; it was last night. Trauma had come to his cell to collect him. He tried to ask the older boy questions, but he was silent. Very silent, like he didn’t want to be doing this. The dread had sunk in deeper as he heard people talking over the intercoms while he was collected. The Pirate had yelled something to the boy leading him, out her cell door. ‘You bastard! How can you take him! You know what he’s going to do to him! You know what’s going to happen! Claudio, run!’ but the pirate girl had always been loud and over reacted, right?
The sinking feeling inside had made him wonder if it was really an over reaction though. People came back from these things wounded, hurting, crying, sobbing, screaming even. They never came back safe, did they?
He could hear someone else over the intercoms as the two walked the hall. Protests, they always protested. ‘No, to him. He’s just a boy.’ Or ‘have a heart. He’s not done anything!’ and any number of obscenities. It was times like this that he was surprised security didn’t come down to the cells and tranquilize everyone all at once.
‘Why wont you tell me anything?’ he has asked the boy, walking up closer to him, trying to look up to him, to see his face. It was... expressionless. No, that wasn’t right. There was something there but he couldn’t figuring it out. ‘Trauma?’ he had asked, but got no answers, just more screaming over the lines.
Breathing got hard again, curled up on the bed, doubled over. What the hell happened to him? “Why didn’t you stop it...” he found himself muttering, knowing now that it wasn’t a fair statement. He knew better then too. He knew better then what he had said at that last moment also.
‘What?! No way! I didn’t do anything! I didn’t kill my sister! I didn’t do anything like that. That wasn’t me damn it! You have to believe me!’ He yelled it at the doctor, stepping back from the tray of tools and the operation table. The snake faced nose-less doctor stood only inches taller then him, but seemed to be hovering everyone anyhow. Stepping back he ran right smack into Trauma.
Startled he had turned to the boy and blurted out ‘Come on! You know I didn’t kill anyone! And even if I did there’s no reason for this! Tell him!’ but the boy said nothing. His eyes looked even blanker then before. ‘What did I do to deserve...’ but he was cut off suddenly, something binding his legs to his arms, in mid air. His eyes went wide; he was dragged back to the table and the binding gone.
‘Secure the straps, Assistant Ward.’ The doctor had said and just like that the boy came over, doing as told. There was a moment when Claudio thought the boy was going to say something, but instead he reached for his wrist, to restrain him. Fighting back he tried to make a jump for it, to slip past the boy and hopefully for the door. He hadn’t been thinking. He wasn’t thinking.
Stop thinking! He told himself loudly in his head, rolling to his back now, gasping a bit as his hands, smeared with blood moved to push back his hair. Eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling. His chest burned, his head ached. His body ached, all over. “Stop thinking...”
But he couldn’t stop now. Eyes wide open he let his mind wander still, to the cold of the straps being put down, to the mutter... had the boy said something? It won’t be as bad as he thought, was that it? He couldn’t tell. He was yelling too much to be able to tell what was said. ‘I thought you were my friend!’ he had said in fear, and though he really didn’t mean the accusing sound of it, and he did believe Trauma to be his friend, well... he was scared. Very scared. The long, very long time he had been there he had managed to stay out of a lot of therapy groups. It never dawned on him why he had missed so many of them before this.
Or better yet he had a hunch that there was a reason for it. That reason was what made his head hurt right now, laying on that bed. He knew better then what he had said. He knew that Trauma was in a shitty position. He was sure that the reason he hadn’t been to therapy often was because of Trauma.
“Shit...” His hands pressed harder into his eyes now, trying to block out the therapy form that night. It was hard to get most of it, the gas mask pressed tightly to his face like that.
The mask seemed heavy when it was over his face, body strapped in. The doctor was saying something to Trauma, and though he could barely see the boys face, he saw a flash of something there. Surprise? He struggled again against the straps, head feeling heavy now. What was this gas?
He heard Trauma speak, though he was sure the words were not ‘The Prise wishes you to watch over me...’ and should most likely be something more relevant to anything that had to do with this operation therapy. As a matter of fact the sound of the Doctor speaking back to the assistant shouldn’t have sounded like a Priest yelling, but it did. He felt the welling of fear coming back to him as he watched the boy point sharply at him and speak... well it seemed loudly, back to the doctor.
There was a fog or haze that drifted over his eyes a moment later. Faint white figures paint his sleep and when he fell asleep he felt nothing for ages. He felt nothing and knew nothing at the time.
Come what may.
It wasn’t until he woke up here in the cell bed, alone and numb that things were really getting to him. He remembered conversations, sure, or more words the doctor uttered while he leaned over him, wand out, a burning in his chest. He remembered the pain that the gas didn’t fully knock out of him, but he didn’t remember seeing the boy there anymore.
“S-shit... S-some... one...” she let out a small gasp as he felt his hand over his chest. There were stitches there, but it felt like they were broken. His movements must have popped one, the heavy breathing. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt and he didn’t know how to make the panic stop. Or where it came from. Perhaps the thought of being alone here, no one on his side, and even if they were they couldn’t do anything.
The panic raising in him kept him from noticing the dark figure that slipped into the door. He closed his eyes, trying to gain control again. He needed to breath and--- He let out a yelp, hearing someone now. Beside him.
“Calm down...” the voice was soft, barely heard over the panicked breaths. “Lay still...”
His eyes opened to see Trauma, emotionless but with shadowed eyes, moving to sit next to him on the bed. He winced, feeling the movements, but tried to settle down, his breath still fast. “Hurts...” He managed out, watching the boys hand as he moved over to check the bloody area. There were two places he had been cut open, he hadn’t even really noticed the second one lower down.
“Trauma?” He gasped, trying to look up to see the other boy looking over the wounds. “I... I didn’t mean wha--”
“Shh...” the older boy hissed, silent, cleaning the wounds. “Just stop moving.”
He tried to stop moving, tried to lay there and catch his breathing. To calm down. It was hard to do, it hurt and he found he was still scared... but watching the boy silently work to clean up the bleeding, the careful touch of cloth to wound and how it didn’t hurt when he did it, well it was calming some.
“You weren’t there?” He asked randomly, trying to get a better image of the boy.
“I... wasn’t required anymore.” Trauma said stiffly, looking only at the wounds that he was cleaning. “Lay still...”
“I was just...”
“Scared. I know.”
The boy moved to wring out the cloth he was using, turning just enough to give Claudio a clear view. He nearly sat up, startled to see it. “W-what happened?” His face was puffed on the one side, reddened and bruised. There was a small bandage tape crossed over an angry cut. Trying to sit up to see better, he hissed, falling back again, hand coming to his side. Fuck that hurt.
Annoyed sounding the boy said once more “Lay still!” and placed a hand to Claudio’s chest, pushing him back down. “Nothing happened. If you don’t stay still I’m leaving...”
Claudio stayed still. His eyes watching the boys face, frowning. He got hurt last night too... he thought as he tried to study it. Instead of talking he just lay there, trying to ignore how much he hurt. It was as the boy finished up that he spoke again.
“I didn’t mean what I said... about you being a friend? I...”
He was cut off again, Trauma holding a hand up, collecting the stuff he brought, and leaving a tiny brown bottle of pills on the bed beside the boy. “You were right thought.” He said darkly, before starting to leave. “Hide those. Their for pain.” And started for the door.
Laying in the bed, eyes watching the assistant leave, he felt another moment of confusion. He was right? But which did that mean? He said ‘I thought you were my friend’ so... did that mean he was or... that the statement at the time was right.
He took one of the pills, curling over even though he shouldn’t and closed his eyes. He wanted to forget about today, last night, and everything between. He wasn’t sure on anything and he was so very tired after all that. Not because of the hurt but the confusion. He hated this place for what it was and what it was doing to him. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore and that was the worst part.
no subject
It's both awesome and awful and I want to do something like that in game somewhere. .....Cause that is how I roll.
no subject
And.... do it. :|