this wild abyss | {adrien executioner}
Jul 26, 2020 23:35:15 GMT -5
Post by gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan on Jul 26, 2020 23:35:15 GMT -5
He wished that the reason his eyes were bloodshot was because he and Indi had taken a detour in the back gardens. He wished his life was simple: easy. A normal family, who had dinner at five o'clock. A mother who always knew exactly what to say and a father who always knew exactly what to do. He wished that his biggest concern was whether or not he would pass his biology final next week, or figuring out how to convince his crush to go to the dance with him. He wished he'd gotten the opportunity to revel in his youth, but even living in Panem was enough to make sure that never happened. He wished for a lot, as he sat in the chair of his father's office, heartbroken and lonely and afraid.
His eyes were bloodshot because he'd been crying.
Everything, everything had fallen apart and this day, this single day that has felt like an eternity, brought him to his knees and made his stomach ache.
Indi isn't here, either, he thought. He was beginning to fear that he was nowhere. There was a bit of hope that, perhaps, he'd found a way out of Five's most aristocratic labyrinth, but then: why hadn't he come back for Adrien? Maybe he thought going for help was better. He was probably right, although he didn't see what anyone could really do until the storm subsided. Figured the keepers had all gone home to wait out the storm just as everyone else had.
If Adrien were home right now, he would've been helping his mother with dishes after she cooked something from nothing- a vegetable broth and some bread, maybe. If she'd had time to buy the ingredients before the storm got too bad. Though it seemed like such a minuscule and, perhaps selfish thing for him to think of with everything else that was going on, he hoped his mother didn't go to sleep hungry that night.
Perhaps he should have been walking more carefully. After all, the hallways were slanted in complete darkness. It made the already cacophonous estate feel as if it stretched on for miles and miles, stopping long after the horizon had passed. Maybe if he walked far enough, he'd look up and find that he was some place new.
Instead, he found himself in his father's room, sitting on the edge of his bed, thinking of a million things he should have said, but didn't. A thousand things that he had said, and wished he hadn't.
He opened the top drawer of his father's night stand to find it holding only a book and a pair of reading glasses. He flipped through the pages to see that there was no bookmark. Either he had tasked himself with remembering which page he'd stopped on every night, or he hadn't gotten around to starting it before-
He slammed the drawer shut and was surprised to hear the clunky sound of something falling within the chest as a result. One by one, he pulled the drawers out until he found the culprit. Shiny, and dangerous, and smiling in the storm-lit room like it was the only one in the room that got the joke. A gun. It felt heavier than it looked, but he also noticed the folded piece of paper that had fallen with it.
He had to walk over to the window and squint to read it between flashes of lightning, but it only took a moment for him to realize what it was saying which was essentially this: goodbye.
He was going to end it.
The date at the top was about two years old. Which would've been right about the time that he'd started planning this. He felt a hotness in his stomach and before he could realize what it was, it had bubbled its way up his throat and out of his mouth. He retched for quite some time, before collapsing into the wall and sliding down to his butt. The gun was still there on the ground, just where he'd left it, still smiling that same smile. Only now it seemed to be saying:
"Get it?"
