like a [STONE] we fell // Jimmeh

It had been horrifically brutal. Like always. His first fight all over again. For a relatively slight guy, Pepper could lay in a beating when he put his body into it. He changed when he fought. Became more savage. Primal. I'd told him before his first fight, you have to become that which you fear the most. At the time, I'd not realised quite how violent his fear was. Even I was scared by him when he paced back and forth, snarling. But, of course, I said nothing. Revealed nothing. Like a stone. Impassive, cold, hard. This one weathered and worn to a smooth finish. I lean against my cell, watching him now, reduced from an adrenaline fuelled killing machine to a whimpering wreck. Fingers pattern my temples, soothing the rising frustration. He's been like this for a while now. He's never been like this before. He comes down hard, but not like this.

My eyes remain fixed on him. His hands feverishly trying to wipe the stain of blood no longer on his hands, before tearing through skin on the ground. A vein throbs in my forehead, a tick sets in my jaw, teeth gritting. Watching him. I pity him in one part. That he had to be the one to end Fanta. The one who was most damaged of all of us. Most innocent. Most undeserving of being in here. Dying in here. Dead by my own brothers hands. Hands he now seemed bent on destroying. 'You keep doing that, you won't have hands left. Stop it. Pep. Listen to me.' His hands continued to be abraded by the floor, his body weight helping to tear them to bloody ribbons. My eyes narrow as he abruptly desists, the pain evidently too much for even his diminished sense of self preservation.

I almost bite my tongue to stop myself from screaming in frustration as he begins to cry out for Fanta. Hallucinations now? He was getting worse? I didn't think that was even possible. Slowly, I rise into a crouch, picking up a pebble, similar worn as my own being. Reduced to a polished, but irrevocably altered form. I continue to motion upwards, my lean, towering height extending itself. I've grown a lot in the past year, but damned if I know how much. Cords of muscle, bunched and unrefined line elegantly long limbs, distorting an otherwise feminine figure to something wholly dedicated to violence and survival. Out of everyone in here, I'm the one who has changed the most. Before, I was lithe, athletic, but entirely girlish. Perfectly kept hair, exquisite clothing, flawless features, an epitome of graceful figure. The wretch who hurls the stone at her own brother is not the Salt Rebio who came here however long ago.

'She's dead Pepper! Dead! Screaming at an empty cell isn't going to make her live again!' Raw fury laces my voice, frustration palpable in every word spat at him. 'I can't keep you alive, get you out, if you keep willing yourself to destruction. Now get over here. I want to talk to you. And you need to hear it. Come here. Now.' There wasn't an option left open. No compromise, no remorse, nothing. Only a command. I wasn't even sure what I'd speak to him about. I only knew that if I listened to him screaming out of Fanta much longer, I'd start losing parts of my sanity. And I don't have many of those left...