Disclaimer – I do not own John or anything else that you might recognise. I'm just a poor student playing around for a bit.
Author Notes – So I've only recently started watching the show and have only seen up to episode 2.06, tTITBtFIS, but I felt a desperate need for more John-angst and just had to write this! Hope it isn't too bad.
And this has some sensitive subjects in it. I do not, under any circumstances, support it and I mean no offence to anyone that has dealt with it.
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Crimson Life
There is no message we're receiving,
Let me know is your heart still beating?
The Killers - Human
A little pressure, a sting of pain, a small drop of blood and the world went quiet.
John let out a relieved sigh and let his head drop. He was sitting on the bathroom-floor with his back against the wall, knees drawn up against his chest and with one arm lying on top of them while he let the other fall to the floor. All strength had left his body and slowly he could feel the tension leaving with it.
His life had always been hard – even before he was born – and he knew that it would only get harder. He could run, he could try to fight back, but people would still die around him. He knew that and those he cared about knew that.
When he was younger he had resented it. He had wanted to be a normal child with a normal childhood, a kid who played games with his friends and laughed at the smallest things. He had wanted birthday-parties, vacations and secrets that he could share with his friends. But that was years ago.
Another sting, not as sharp as the first, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
Now he was numb. Had been for years. Too much pain, too much fear, too much running and he just couldn't seem to care anymore. He knew where the world was going – had been told countless times – and somewhere along the line he forgot to be scared and just felt resigned.
The world was ending and no one could stop it.
Sometimes he wished that people would just leave him alone. No more do this, do that (Run, John, run!) and he wouldn't have to care if they got hurt or if they died because of him. They would be gone – safe – and it wouldn't matter anymore if he couldn't feel because it couldn't hurt them. No one around to give him eyes that said that they knew how he felt or told him they were sorry but that it had to be this way. Lies and pity, he was so sick of it.
A choked laugh and he lifted his arm to watch the crimson river slowly flow down it.
When had the rules changed? When had it suddenly become ok to tell a kid that he was mankind's only hope? That all his life he would be hunted, that no place would ever be safe and that no one could be trusted?
When had it been alright to tell a kid that his life was more important then anyone else's and at the same time steal it from him?
He was a soldier and they made him fight before he even understood why. He learned to shot, he learned to dodge and on the way he forgot to feel. Did they never understand what they did? Did they never realise what they forced him to become?
A quick stroke, arm numb as fresh blood came to the surface and broke free.
He was a weapon now. He fought and he ran and he obeyed his orders without thinking because that was what they wanted from him. He had pushed all his feeling to the side because they only got in the way and a split second of hesitation was enough to get you killed.
And John wasn't suicidal. He did not want to die and he did not even want to be hurt. He knew that even if he couldn't change what was about to happen, even if the world really was coming to an end, he still needed to keep on fighting, if not for himself then at least for everyone else.
But, sometimes, he just needed to bleed. Cut the skin, feel the pain, watch as blood escaped his body and dropped down on the white tiled floor. Crimson life pouring out of his numb shell.
As long as he could still bleed he knew that he was still human.
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