08-26-2008, 04:12 PM
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lol, ignore him. <_<
The girl's voice was back, though it was not calm. Laruku curled his knees to his chest and tried to make himself as small as possible, backed up in the corner of the room. His face was contorted in a terrified sort of snarl as he stared forward at nothing and his lips were pulled back to let blood trickle out and quietly dribble down his chin. It wasn't his fault. (It was.) If only all of those people had let him die all those times in the past. (You never had enough conviction.) If only Acid had killed him to begin with instead of just abandoning him to luck and chance. (Stop trying to off the blame.) If only the glass had cut a little bit deeper and if only he had bled a little bit faster. (There's not enough blood in you to bleed.) If only, if only, the woodpecker cried, the wood on the tree were a little bit softer.
His wrist throbbed, but he couldn't focus on it. If he tore it open now, would he die? His arms ached and he couldn't bring the veins to his teeth. His heart was thundering still, and he felt like any gash created now would surely spurt enough blood to kill him in a few moments, before anyone or anything else could interfere. Or perhaps his heart would simply explode. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to imagine it. His ears flattened against his skull and he tried to will his body to give in.
The girl's voice was back, though it was not calm. Laruku curled his knees to his chest and tried to make himself as small as possible, backed up in the corner of the room. His face was contorted in a terrified sort of snarl as he stared forward at nothing and his lips were pulled back to let blood trickle out and quietly dribble down his chin. It wasn't his fault. (It was.) If only all of those people had let him die all those times in the past. (You never had enough conviction.) If only Acid had killed him to begin with instead of just abandoning him to luck and chance. (Stop trying to off the blame.) If only the glass had cut a little bit deeper and if only he had bled a little bit faster. (There's not enough blood in you to bleed.) If only, if only, the woodpecker cried, the wood on the tree were a little bit softer.
His wrist throbbed, but he couldn't focus on it. If he tore it open now, would he die? His arms ached and he couldn't bring the veins to his teeth. His heart was thundering still, and he felt like any gash created now would surely spurt enough blood to kill him in a few moments, before anyone or anything else could interfere. Or perhaps his heart would simply explode. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to imagine it. His ears flattened against his skull and he tried to will his body to give in.
I've tried to die,he murmured into his knees, mostly unintelligible.
It's not my fault.It is.