finn | two | cb

all except your negatives,
I’ll wear around my neck
like teeth. Evidence
that I have killed.

Lights out. You blink once, twice, and the air smells different, but different how? No name, you barely know what you look like. And you’re in his arms, heavy breathing, manic look in his eyes. You’re so afraid, don’t even know why.

Where are—

The trees are so much bigger, towering far over his head. He hasn’t noticed you’re awake yet and you don’t know why, but you’re terrified he’ll find out. You’re keeping calm until you become aware of the substance on your face. You can tell by the way it sticks that it’s blood. You don’t mean to, but you start to hyperventilate.

“Fuck.”

It is his voice. Who is he? Who are you?

“Why won’t you just die?”

You’re on the ground now, coughing. Hands dig themselves into the earth, and you should run. You should run and never look back, but you don’t. You can’t. “Please,” is all you get out, and it does no good. Your head hurts, your ears ringing, and you want to scream but you’re so, so tired. Blurry vision, a canvas of paint smeared beyond comprehension, and a fist turns it all back to black.

You rest.