the first of three [parson cham's end] day four
Nov 19, 2018 15:49:18 GMT -5
Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Nov 19, 2018 15:49:18 GMT -5
I wasn’t supposed to be the first one to go.
Always the hero in our little fantasies. Always the one stood on the piles of imaginary corpses and the chest of gold under my arm. This is not how it is supposed to go. Theodore the winner. Jacob the missing. And now Parson the dead.
No, this is not right.
As if my palm can contain the slow drips of my life from the neck wound, it is panic. Engulfing every muscle and fibre of my body, anything to prolong this and seek a cure. Dying is not me. For eighteen years I have been living, be it a repeated life with day after day the same but it is still living. Sins have cast themselves onto me but no fucker alive can say I have been a sweet heart all my life, nah, not even Theodore Ursa.
There is emptiness in these tunnels, the scorched knives still simmer besides me, likely soon to be purged away from me. I did not even see them, my very own reaper, bearing the one weapon that has failed be each day. Ironic that a spear would be the one thing to end me, likely payback for all the scrutiny towards it.
This pain is unlike any other, it has switched off the world around me, just me and it fighting to the end. I can so easily surrender, let it carry me away already, but I just want one more glimpse. A final good-bye to all that I am leaving behind. A promise of being together until the end, however sappy it is, I want him to hold my hand.
Some comfort for once in my life, a good night’s kiss from my mother and a warm welcome in the morning from my father. Just the little things that life withheld from me. How hard must I work to be loved?
Really what I am leaving behind? A boy I met a couple of days ago. A friend whose memory has probably already lost me again and a father, if I can still call him that…Damn, the fucker will have to get out there and get his own job! Hahahahahahaha…
…holy shit, this really does hurt.
My lips are wet as I cough, clots of blood oozing up my throat, escaping from all corners of my neck. Of all the abdominal pain I have had to endure, the spontaneous spot of my neck of course would suddenly trigger this. Annie better turn her knives onto that District partner of hers. This whole mock up of protecting one and other, where was she when the person she shared a train journey with lunged at me with that spear? We are not protecting one and other. We are hiding behind each other. Praying to ripred that these shields are thick enough to get us to the next day. The truth stings but it is always buried deep enough to not linger for too long. A career mind like Annie’s ought to know and Angel, Angel I can let slip. Selfishness had me by his side in each fight, I just wanted another night with him…
For a moment the world plays out again, movement from the others as I lay flat on the ground, my right hand still cupping the wound.
”….”
A rattle falls from my mouth, no words for my tongue to execute. My one true weapon and it is already failing one me. Try again.
”Ong!”
What the fuck.
My face burns, heart shaken up by the sudden rush of fury that cleanses all the suffering for just a moment. My body shakes with the madness, free hand bashing against the hard ground. I cannot speak. No words can be strung together. This injury, the blade likely cutting clean the vocal chords within my neck.
”Ang…anggg..l” Oxygen is deprived for those few seconds of trying to spill his name, what is this madness? I let my body recharge for just a few seconds, I don’t know how many I have left. Heavy breathing takes over my movements and all my eyes can do is just stare up at them.
I let the tears soak my cheek, there is no crying. No audio to fill my lungs, just my watering eyes to fill the world with the emotions that are taking a stand within me. Just one more try. A dying man is obliged to have his last words surely.
”’Ard…to…..pro….ect…..Ang…llll” Whatever those noises, I hope Angel can translate. I don’t have it in me anymore, no energy to even defend my end. My right to say farewell to the retched world that has brought me so much suffering.
I guess it is time then.
Both hands reach out in front of me, hoping that he takes one of them. One soaked in my own blood and the other clean. Which one will he take?
A warm touch from my hands sends nerves across my body and my vision goes blank. I am still here but the world is blurred, not quite dark yet as the shadows of their figures are still clear.
I am fading.
I am out of here then.
This isn’t right this.
I was meant to get his life, live alongside him on that pompous street.
All those luxuries that he indulges in, I was meant to get my own share.
I pull one of my hands away from their grip, slamming it on the ground besides me.
”TEDDY!”
All that energy wasted on his name.
Gone.
Always the hero in our little fantasies. Always the one stood on the piles of imaginary corpses and the chest of gold under my arm. This is not how it is supposed to go. Theodore the winner. Jacob the missing. And now Parson the dead.
No, this is not right.
As if my palm can contain the slow drips of my life from the neck wound, it is panic. Engulfing every muscle and fibre of my body, anything to prolong this and seek a cure. Dying is not me. For eighteen years I have been living, be it a repeated life with day after day the same but it is still living. Sins have cast themselves onto me but no fucker alive can say I have been a sweet heart all my life, nah, not even Theodore Ursa.
There is emptiness in these tunnels, the scorched knives still simmer besides me, likely soon to be purged away from me. I did not even see them, my very own reaper, bearing the one weapon that has failed be each day. Ironic that a spear would be the one thing to end me, likely payback for all the scrutiny towards it.
This pain is unlike any other, it has switched off the world around me, just me and it fighting to the end. I can so easily surrender, let it carry me away already, but I just want one more glimpse. A final good-bye to all that I am leaving behind. A promise of being together until the end, however sappy it is, I want him to hold my hand.
Some comfort for once in my life, a good night’s kiss from my mother and a warm welcome in the morning from my father. Just the little things that life withheld from me. How hard must I work to be loved?
Really what I am leaving behind? A boy I met a couple of days ago. A friend whose memory has probably already lost me again and a father, if I can still call him that…Damn, the fucker will have to get out there and get his own job! Hahahahahahaha…
…holy shit, this really does hurt.
My lips are wet as I cough, clots of blood oozing up my throat, escaping from all corners of my neck. Of all the abdominal pain I have had to endure, the spontaneous spot of my neck of course would suddenly trigger this. Annie better turn her knives onto that District partner of hers. This whole mock up of protecting one and other, where was she when the person she shared a train journey with lunged at me with that spear? We are not protecting one and other. We are hiding behind each other. Praying to ripred that these shields are thick enough to get us to the next day. The truth stings but it is always buried deep enough to not linger for too long. A career mind like Annie’s ought to know and Angel, Angel I can let slip. Selfishness had me by his side in each fight, I just wanted another night with him…
For a moment the world plays out again, movement from the others as I lay flat on the ground, my right hand still cupping the wound.
”….”
A rattle falls from my mouth, no words for my tongue to execute. My one true weapon and it is already failing one me. Try again.
”Ong!”
What the fuck.
My face burns, heart shaken up by the sudden rush of fury that cleanses all the suffering for just a moment. My body shakes with the madness, free hand bashing against the hard ground. I cannot speak. No words can be strung together. This injury, the blade likely cutting clean the vocal chords within my neck.
”Ang…anggg..l” Oxygen is deprived for those few seconds of trying to spill his name, what is this madness? I let my body recharge for just a few seconds, I don’t know how many I have left. Heavy breathing takes over my movements and all my eyes can do is just stare up at them.
I let the tears soak my cheek, there is no crying. No audio to fill my lungs, just my watering eyes to fill the world with the emotions that are taking a stand within me. Just one more try. A dying man is obliged to have his last words surely.
”’Ard…to…..pro….ect…..Ang…llll” Whatever those noises, I hope Angel can translate. I don’t have it in me anymore, no energy to even defend my end. My right to say farewell to the retched world that has brought me so much suffering.
I guess it is time then.
Both hands reach out in front of me, hoping that he takes one of them. One soaked in my own blood and the other clean. Which one will he take?
A warm touch from my hands sends nerves across my body and my vision goes blank. I am still here but the world is blurred, not quite dark yet as the shadows of their figures are still clear.
I am fading.
I am out of here then.
This isn’t right this.
I was meant to get his life, live alongside him on that pompous street.
All those luxuries that he indulges in, I was meant to get my own share.
I pull one of my hands away from their grip, slamming it on the ground besides me.
”TEDDY!”
All that energy wasted on his name.
Gone.
