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the trouble with wanting [qh vs. lc; day two]
Oct 19, 2019 22:30:12 GMT -5
Post by heather - d2 [mylee] on Oct 19, 2019 22:30:12 GMT -5
The night truly begins with the thump of Bell’s finger against my shoulder, startling me out of a fitful sleep. She says nothing, but I nod, knowing that she likely hasn’t seen my gesture through the dark. The sky offers no company, and I start at the void of night for approximately thirty minutes before turning my ears to the forest around me. The ground and trees seem to move under my eye, and though I’m convinced something is on the verge of appearing, nothing does.
I count the time with sticks tracing slits in the dirt beneath me. I’m thankful to not see the gnarled branches through the dark, as their faces in the afternoon and dusk sent my body stiff. The first hour passes quickly enough, but the second drags on and I’m grateful for the approximate time I roll to my side and tap Tommy gently on the shoulder until he wakes up. Your turn, I whisper through the dark before rolling back to my other side. Despite the throbbing pain resonating through my foot, I feel heaviness creeping into my limbs and overtaking the habit I’ve made of staying awake.
When the first glimpses of sunlight filter in, I find myself awash with a rush of adrenaline that I originally mistake for being rested. I roll to a position to stand and do so for a brief moment in the wake of forgetting that the bones of my foot are shattered. The jarring of weight on the splinter doesn’t sit well, and it takes all of my restraint and a bitten tongue to keep from screaming loudly and without abandon. I drop back to the ground quickly and cradle the ankle, watching the way color has illuminated the strange, new landscape of the bones.
After this slight incident, little to no noise is made, and we don’t find the need to speak much in those initial hours. Rather, we sit, let the exhaustion creep back into our bodies and find its way into the mind. I think to ask about resting again, but before I know it we’re trying to move, though our progress is hindered by my inability to walk. I lean heavy on Tommy’s shoulder on my right, and I use a large branch from one of the trees to support the awkward motion of my left. Bell and Efram, while not necessarily rushing ahead, do not wait for us either.
I’m thankful for this, as I’m afraid of the way my body moves on normal ground, much less this newfound restraint of pain and human limitation. I am half afraid the three of them would leave me in the middle of the night, realizing that a broken body like this would be a hindrance, a liability for three otherwise strong bodies. Their presence at the crack of the sun was a comfort, though the longer I walk the longer I get concerned.
I am deadweight, but I am also an easy body to toss to the fire. We will inevitably stumble or be stumbled upon, and I am the easiest to leave behind while fleeing on foot or for the trees. I think of Tommy, beside me and silently bearing the burden of my inability to keep my skeleton together. I tell myself I’ll apologize to him tonight and hope he doesn’t mind the way I can’t put the words together or force sincerity to my tongue.
I think about making this confession now, but the sound of voices through the branches snaps my attention upward and calls the adrenaline back to my brain. The sight of the unknown causes me to lurch forward on instinct, though most of the drive forward is caught by my inability to move momentum from Tommy’s side to the directly ahead.
I count the time with sticks tracing slits in the dirt beneath me. I’m thankful to not see the gnarled branches through the dark, as their faces in the afternoon and dusk sent my body stiff. The first hour passes quickly enough, but the second drags on and I’m grateful for the approximate time I roll to my side and tap Tommy gently on the shoulder until he wakes up. Your turn, I whisper through the dark before rolling back to my other side. Despite the throbbing pain resonating through my foot, I feel heaviness creeping into my limbs and overtaking the habit I’ve made of staying awake.
*
When the first glimpses of sunlight filter in, I find myself awash with a rush of adrenaline that I originally mistake for being rested. I roll to a position to stand and do so for a brief moment in the wake of forgetting that the bones of my foot are shattered. The jarring of weight on the splinter doesn’t sit well, and it takes all of my restraint and a bitten tongue to keep from screaming loudly and without abandon. I drop back to the ground quickly and cradle the ankle, watching the way color has illuminated the strange, new landscape of the bones.
After this slight incident, little to no noise is made, and we don’t find the need to speak much in those initial hours. Rather, we sit, let the exhaustion creep back into our bodies and find its way into the mind. I think to ask about resting again, but before I know it we’re trying to move, though our progress is hindered by my inability to walk. I lean heavy on Tommy’s shoulder on my right, and I use a large branch from one of the trees to support the awkward motion of my left. Bell and Efram, while not necessarily rushing ahead, do not wait for us either.
I’m thankful for this, as I’m afraid of the way my body moves on normal ground, much less this newfound restraint of pain and human limitation. I am half afraid the three of them would leave me in the middle of the night, realizing that a broken body like this would be a hindrance, a liability for three otherwise strong bodies. Their presence at the crack of the sun was a comfort, though the longer I walk the longer I get concerned.
I am deadweight, but I am also an easy body to toss to the fire. We will inevitably stumble or be stumbled upon, and I am the easiest to leave behind while fleeing on foot or for the trees. I think of Tommy, beside me and silently bearing the burden of my inability to keep my skeleton together. I tell myself I’ll apologize to him tonight and hope he doesn’t mind the way I can’t put the words together or force sincerity to my tongue.
I think about making this confession now, but the sound of voices through the branches snaps my attention upward and calls the adrenaline back to my brain. The sight of the unknown causes me to lurch forward on instinct, though most of the drive forward is caught by my inability to move momentum from Tommy’s side to the directly ahead.
[kirk bauer attacks charisma duke; sword]
CGnmzpw74bsword
[shallow cut on left forearm -- 3.5]
swordCGnmzpw74bsword
[shallow cut on left forearm -- 3.5]
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