half jack ►
j u s t l e t h i m c r a s h a n d b u r n
His eyes are half-lidded, bright blue rolling around aimlessly in gaping, blood-shot sockets. Dirty brown hair falls around his pale face, skin pasty. Sick. He feels sick, head pounding. Noises are magnified tenfold, the slightest movement hurts, limbs feel heavy and lethargic.
It's happening again. He knows it's happening again; all the symptoms are there.
Sometimes it happens because somebody provokes him. Sometimes it happens because he gets restless. Sometimes it happens because he gets angry. Sometimes it happens for no real reason whatsoever. He just bursts loose from his prison and people are expected to let him c r a s h a n d b u r n.
"Don't worry. It's just the way the medication makes you," says the nurses. Any nurse. Endless amounts of them. Taking temperatures. Tutting. Flicking back blonde hair. Pert and pretty and bouncy and bright.
They don't know what it's like taking those tablets and having that … that … that creature inside you that harbours so much hate (bitter) towards everything around it. An untamed monster curdles in the pit of his stomach, resides within him, and sometimes, when everything goes dark and his head starts to hurt, it explodes from within.
"And from your results you were doing so well. Have you been taking your medication lately?"
Every day. Every fucking day.
"Sora? Sora, what's wrong?" asks Kairi softly, innocent, eyes wide, chains of red hair framing her pretty face, brushing her elegant neck. Paper-thin. He could poke his fingers through it like paper and make dolls out of it. Confetti. He could cut her to ribbons.
He wants to cut her to ribbons.
It's dark and fuzzy and everything's blurred, struggling to keep control as this awful beast inside him roars and screams and scrapes long fingernails down his insides. Eyes strain, muscles spasm, fingers clench, gasps emit from his goldfish mouth. It hurts. It shouldn't hurt this much. It shouldn't hurt trying to exist. Oh, but it does, every inhale clenching his lungs, breathing heavy, spasticated, loud and darkdarkdark and he's going to escape and he can't see and ohmigodohmigodkairikairiakairi…
She's so worried let her worry and he doesn't want to hurt her but he does deep down and no he doesn't how can you say that because I am you but I don't want to be you but you have no choice.
"Kai… Kai…" he breaths shallowly, eyes seeming to turn yellow like streetlamps, struggling over and over and over just to get a few words out and she's leaning closer, closer, inches away and I could strike her now but don't. Screaming. In his head. Pain. Head in hands.
"What, Sora?"
Black. Black. Black. Black.
"I… I'm… I'm sorry!"
"Sorry? Sorry for what?" her voice is delicate, sweet, strawberries and cream, just like her. Limbs; stick-thin and slender. Snappable. Eyes; wide, worried, violet blue. Popable under fingers applying enough pressure.
He leaps up at her and it probably hurts him much more than it hurts her as his incisors on her arm up and down teeth on skin, pulling apart flesh, punching and pulling and she's screaming (crying?) and unconscious, maybe, blood, red, red, red and he literally pulls her apart like paper, like a book, tearing down her spine and scattering her pages everywhere and she stops breathing, stops trying, tears trickling down her cheeks, diluting with red, red, red all over. His hands, her body. The floor, the walls. The ceiling.
But it wasn't his fault. Wasn't wasn't wasn't.
Even though she loved you?
Even so.
j u s t l e t h i m c r a s h a n d b u r n