haven todd ♢ cb ♢ district two

h a v e n  t o d d

"Why do you do it?" 

I can see his swollen veins, begging for release as he presses down on the plunger. It hurts. His face goes all weird as acid crawls up his veins, turning them inter mush as his eyes flicker closed. 

"I have to." He murmurs and his voice reminds me of silver, the kind that has been warmed up too many times and molded into some beautifully contorted image. That's always what he says. I'd die without it. Or Don't be like me, Haven. Be like your brother. But no one can be like Bartholomew. I'd tell him that but I don't think he's listening. He's sliding down the wall, lungs shaking as he clutches his chest. "Haven, can you help me to the bed?"

"Of course." I want to tell him no, that I should just leave him here for Mew to find him but that would break his heart and I can't do that to him. Not when Mew's forehead has been stained with deep lines and his smile is tighter the nights he comes home from long shifts. 

It's not Theodore's fault he's like this, maybe I'd be like this too if my big brother died.

There are so many things to worry about, too much that I understand when I simply just want to tear my eyes away from the awful truths of it all. They haunt me, these images engraved into the backs of my eyes with brands that hiss and clatter like the needle from between Theo's fingertips. 

I think that is why my nightmares are getting worse. 

The world is too bad a place for anything to get better.