Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Viewing Single Post From: How Can I Retract These Claws?
Member Avatar
maybe if you're lucky the random avatar will sync up to the character you're reading right now
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
He had been here before.

((Alvaro Vacanti, continued from Thanatophobia))

This room. This place. He had been here before. He knew that. The broken wood. The blood, on the floor. It was familiar. This was where… everything happened. Everything started. All the things that had happened since he had woken up began here. Min-jae attacking him. Barry. Jonathan. Lily. Scout. It had all started here, in this room. All the fighting. All the killing. All the moments spent alone and scared of whoever was around the corner and all the moments spent turning on everything he knew just so that he could survive and all the moments spent hurting others and hurting and killing his friends even though he didn’t mean it even though he didn’t want to even though he didn’t want to be here on this island playing this game he had done it. All those moments.

They had all started here.

He took a step, into the room. Another. His breathing was low. Cautious. There could be people here, and being with people meant fighting and possibly killing and he didn’t know didn’t want to do it but-


He jumped. What was that? He had stepped on something. Under his foot and he had to step back and he had to-


He shook his head. It was nothing. He was just- just being scared. As usual. There was nothing.

As usual.

There was a thing on the ground. An item, that he had just stepped on. He wasn’t sure what it was. It sounded like glass. He moved forward. Ducked down. Picked it up.


Were they…?

They were. They were. His hands went out slowly, as he took a hold of them. Slowly, cautiously, they went on his head. On a familiar spot, at the place where his nose became the rest of his face. Familiar. Nice. Normal. He had them again.

But there was something he noticed. A jag of glass, obscuring his vision. A spike, right next to his eyes.


He couldn’t.

So slowly, cautiously, carefully, he took his glasses off. Placed them on the bed, where they could be seen. He wasn’t sure if they’d stay there. He wasn’t sure whether it mattered to him if they did. But they were there. Out of his way. They had helped him, the past couple of years. Maybe they’d like it if they were placed somewhere nice. Comfy. Out of the way. He liked that, at the very least. Maybe they would, too. If they could think. If they could feel. There were moments where he wondered that. There were moments where he questioned the things around him. Were they alive? Could they see? Could they feel? He knew that they couldn’t, but he didn’t know. It felt odd, the fact that they weren’t. The fact that they had eyes, the fact that they had something that could be touched, and yet they couldn’t be used.


He turned around. Thought he heard something. Thought there was someone there. There wasn’t. He was just scared, as usual. He had jumped to conclusions, as usual. There was a moment, that he had just had. Where he had forgotten everything that was around him. Where he wasn’t on this island, where he wasn’t playing this game. Where he could finally think about something else aside from others and the fact that they knew and the fact that they hated him for it and the fact that he was going to have to fight and kill more if he wanted to live to see the next day. He had forgotten, but then he had remembered.

He had ruined it.

As usual.

He knew that now.

Because he had. He had ruined everything for himself. He knew that now. Min-jae, attacking him. That wasn’t true. He had attacked first. He had kicked. He had gotten scared and he didn’t know what to do but he thought he just had to do something and he did the wrong thing and then he got hit and then he got hurt and then he ran and he ran and he finally found someone who was willing to help and then he got scared and then he ran and he ran and he found his friend he had found someone who was probably helping probably good but then he got scared and he killed and the cycle happened again and again and again and again and it was his fault he did it he was scared everything that had happened. Everything that he had done. It was his fault. He did it. He killed Barry. He killed Jasper. He was scared and he knew that but he couldn’t help it and he needed to do something but he couldn’t and all he knew was that he did it.

It was his fault.

He had been scared and because of that, there was a gun in his hands. He had been scared and because of that, he had to be the kid sitting on the right. He had been scared, and because of that…

And because of that…

Everyone else had to die by his hands. He knew that. If he wanted to live, that was what he had to do.

But he couldn’t.

No. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to. He knew he had to and he knew that there wasn’t any way he could deny it but he had to. No choice. He knew the consequences of what he had done. Scout. Lily. Jonathan. They had hurt him. They had attacked him. They were scared. Of him.

And it was his fault.

He had to fight. He had to kill.

But no.

He knew.

He couldn’t do that anymore. He couldn’t kill. He couldn’t fight. No. He wouldn’t.

It was his fault.

He knew that.

And he knew that there was no going back on what he did.

He knew that, if he wanted to live, he was going to have to hurt more.

But he knew he didn’t want that.

But maybe....


Maybe he could make it up.

Maybe he couldn’t.

Maybe he could try.

Maybe he could do something good, for once.

((Alvaro Vacanti, continued elsewhere))
Offline Profile Quote Post
How Can I Retract These Claws? · Regular Wards