district seven :: stanley summit {CB fin}

stanley {s.s} summit

You've always been a strong man, since the moment that your father died, and you became the man of the household. Since the moment your sister became almost no more than a single figment inside your mind. Such a small figment that you weren't sure if she was real, or a tiny painting that resembled life, but was not. She was real, as real as the cannon that signified her. Her death. The cannon wasn't just a signal. It fired a cannonball though the canvas of your mind. You lost her, way back when. And you can see how that turned out. Lost a sister, and you gained no more than a wooden box, and a stone soon to be bore flat.

You are a broken mess, made up out of the remains of your family, held together with cement that you hope will never fail. Reaching out, always expanding, always growing,  yet always pulling, allowing the concrete to set within. Within the cracks that the cannon fire left within everyone. You promised yourself that you'd keep everyone safe, and you've failed in that. Not a single doubt about that. Whispers of hatred are all that you hear now, rising up from the soppy defence that you try to hold. Keep everyone where you can see them, to make sure that trouble cannot reach people you care for. To never allow anyone to rise out of the nest you attempt to rule. You see, nothing ever becomes easy when dealing with family.

Warmth is what you want now. The passing of the murky brown abyss of ale, and brandy is what keep you sane. It damages you, but it heals you. The past you. When you let loved ones suffer smd die. That's going to stay there. You'll never let them go again.