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skyfallscotland · 22 days

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I had a hard time today, so obviously I bawled my eyes out and started writing. I’ll be ok, it’s just…hard. It’s always hard. You think you’re doing fine and then something sets you off and it’s just…there’s no other feeling like it, the emptiness.

If you know the feeling, check the tags and consider whether you’re in the right headspace to read this right now, or ever. I promise if you never read it, you’re not missing out, you already know what happens anyway 🖤

And if you’re feeling it right now, if it’s not too presumptuous to say, the message I want you to hear is this: your sign is right in front of you. Hold on. You never know what you could be missing out on.

Remi / 14 years old / 628AU

“I don’t want to come out with you and Dain and listen to the two of you talk in your own secret little fucking language, ok?!” It explodes out of me, a yell I can’t control, can’t quite tamp down on.

“Remi, we wouldn’t use—”

“You always do.” I snarl. The two of them have all these dialects that only they know, that they’ve studied together without me and whenever they’re around each other it’s all they speak in. So they can ‘practice’ they say. Funny how they never need to practice Tyrrish.

“I promise I won’t.” Violet’s eyes are wet with tears. “I just want to spend time with you.” She begs.

“Why?” I spit. “You never did before.” I roll my eyes. “Face it, you don’t want to spend time with me, you’re just worried that I’ll die too and you’ll be left feeling guilty.” I scowl. “So don’t worry about it, consider this me absolving you.” I turn on my heel and storm away.

My sister’s never cared about me before, she sure as hell doesn’t now. She wouldn’t even miss me if I weren’t around, she’s already replaced me with Dain. My arms are crossed over my chest, the oversized jacket on my shoulders covering the way my hands clutch at my ribcage, hugging my waist as I try not to cry.

The jacket is my mother’s. I used to wear Brennan’s old one all the time, taking comfort in his things while he was off on the frontlines, but of course that was taken from me the moment he was—all his things burnt to ash in a heartbeat.

I don’t know why I bothered trying to take comfort from something of hers, it’s not like she cares for me either—none of them do, except maybe Mira and she’s not here. I’m more likely to get in trouble for taking the damn thing than anything else. I stumble towards my favourite turret, the one connected to the parapet. It’s the closest I can get to my older sister. I hate the height, so I try to never look over the edge of it, but sometimes I go sit up there, just looking out hoping that one day I’ll see a green dragon fly towards me—my sister told me that’s what she’d bonded, a Green. But that’s only wishful thinking.

My chest burns, my lungs constricting as I climb the turret, in the dark, up and up and up. I want to scream, to see if that will expel this furious fire in my chest, the way the dragons always do, but I know it won’t. All it will do is bring people up here and I…I hate people. I don’t want any of them anywhere near me. None of them have any clue what it’s like, how much it hurts.

I’m crying by the time I reach the top, wretched sobs shaking my body as I steady myself with a hand on the stones. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. For a moment, I wobble on my feet and fear has my heart leaping into my throat. I quickly make my way into the top section of the turret and slide to the ground, my back to the wall. I’d almost…

For a long minute, my heart thunders, but then I think at least it would have been over. Over. I don’t know if I believe in Malek, but if the world holds any kindness and the gods are real, I’d hope they would reunite me with Brennan in the afterlife. My breath comes in fast pants as I rip the jacket off and toss it aside, grief overwhelming me to a point where I can’t breathe, can barely think.

There’s a blade in my hand and my vision blurs as I stare down at it through my tears. It doesn’t have to be a fall. I could…

I look up at the sky, hoping for a sign, but there’s no dragon, no burst of flame or message in the clouds. All there is, is a few twinkling stars and an inky blackness. It’s beautiful in it’s own way, I suppose, like a living canvas of gold-flecked onyx. There’s something comforting about that and my sobs die down, a strange calmness washing over me.

It doesn’t have to be like this, I realise. I don’t have to do it anymore. No one can make me. I can just…go.

My brow furrows and I clutch the blade tighter. I’m ready. I’m so ready to just go. The blade glints in the low light of the moon as I lower it to my skin.

“You know, you don’t have to be—”

I jolt, staring up wide-eyed as I freeze in place, icy dread filling my veins. Dain stares back, lips slightly parted and I swallow hard. Before I can think of anything to say, to do, he’s crossing the distance between us in two quick strides and wrenching the blade from my grip, tossing it off the side of the turret. A moment passes, then another.

“Get up. Don’t be an idiot.” His eyes narrow, and I scramble to my feet, my lip trembling. He says nothing else, just…watches me. His eyes are alight with anger and I squirm anxiously, my breath stuttering under his gaze. There’s nothing I can say—nothing I want to say—and eventually I can’t stand it anymore. I turn on my heel and run.

#tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: depression #try and be kind to yourselves; always #basgiath (remi's version)

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zukosdualdao · 29 days

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i don’t like it when people call zuko stupid/dumb, etc. for many of the same reasons other people don’t (it’s generally ableist to make fun of people for lack of intelligence, but it makes me especially uncomfortable when part of the abuse zuko has suffered is specifically being treated like he is by ozai (and azula, who obviously learned this behavior from her father and seems to delight in being able to manipulate zuko so well when that is, of course, an effect of trauma.)

but i ALSO don’t like it because it doesn’t actually match up with what we see about him in the show. zuko, at multiple points, is able to logically assess information and react accordingly, use his bending and general combat skills and environment creatively, and when he is actively trying to grow and change, gets a lot better at emotional insight with both himself and others.

(moments that come to mind re: some of these abilities are when he’s looking for iroh in the first winter solstice episode, one of his crew members sees the spot where iroh was taken and assumes there was a landslide, and zuko is immediately like “no, land doesn’t slide uphill, he was taken by earthbenders.” also i think about him sliding the table between him and jet before their epic sword fight all the time. LOVE a character who is resourceful in their fight sequences. another is in boiling rock when they escape the prison but still need to get off the island, and zuko stops and deduces that azula must have gotten there somehow and then quickly finds the airship that they use for the rest of their escape.)

i think part of this idea comes from iroh telling zuko he doesn’t think things through and zuko later taking that to heart, and there is an element of truth to this, but i think it’s actually somewhat of an oversimplification on iroh’s part (and therefore in common fandom interpretation of zuko as a character.)

the thing is, some of the things zuko does that people deem ‘stupid’ are actually just showcasing that the tunnel vision he succumbs to when desperate makes him not only cause harm to others, but himself, because he becomes actively careless about his own life and general well-being.

for instance, a scene i see people attribute to zuko not being smart a lot is when he breaks into the nwt by following the turtle seals under frozen pathways. and i disagree! this is simultaneously really clever (zuko is #very good at breaking and entering) and very reckless. (he is very desperate by this point, even moreso than he has been all season, because his resources have pretty much vanished, with zhao having his ship exploded and commandeering his crew.)

and the line he has here shows that he actually is thinking about the logical consequences of this potentially very dangerous course of action: “they have to be coming up for air somewhere.” it’s not that he doesn’t think about what could happen next, it’s that to him, the risk seems worth the reward. and when he gets desperate enough, he decides his options are “figure it out as i go” or “die trying.”

and like. that is, to me, a more interesting trait, and also deeply concerning! i don’t read zuko as actively suicidal in the show canon — the comics are a whole different beast we won’t talk about today — but it is certainly risky, self-destructive behavior that is like… just to the left of passive suicidal ideation.

that’s also why i think iroh probably knows he’s oversimplifying a little in his assessment of zuko not thinking things through. because it’s a lot easier to tell himself that the nephew he loves dearly just isn’t thinking things through than actively devaluing his own safety to this degree. it’s also part of why he becomes so adamantly, deeply concerned (to the point of sounding almost stern) when zuko despairs that “there’s no hope at all” in book two. because once you give up on there being any hope left in the world or in your own life, it becomes a lot easier for those semi-passive self-destructive behaviors to become a lot more active.

#ableism //#suicide //#suicidal ideation //#jic #abuse //#this is a heavy post rip sorry i am Thinking Thoughts today #atla #zuko #meta #iroh #zuko & iroh #it’s also why i don’t like hcs where the dynamic is the gaang also (genuinely; not like the friendly teasing of aang in the firebending #masters) also treat zuko like he is stupid post-him becoming their friend #you mean the group that is a) full of remarkably kind people #and b) directly set up as being a much healthier support network than zuko’s abusive family #would treat their friend like that???#sorry i don’t but it. also i’m salty.#* buy

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obstinaterixatrix · 2 months

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"Hey... Tomorrow, you're going to die."

Minazuki Satsuki, 16 years old. By all accounts your average 2nd year high schooler, apart from being a social misfit always declaring her classmates' impending deaths.

They've nicknamed her Usotsuki (Liar).

But her eyes alone are special. What she sees with them are...

The grand return of Ryoko-sensei, author of Shi ni Aruki!

A horror-suspense manga fighting backwards against fate.

--For every death(question), there must be a reason(solution)--

happy femslash february, this one’s going to be a weird one—it’s not a romance, but it is constant high stakes Heated Drama among female characters. right now it’s on its 9th volume, and it looks like the series is about to hit its last few arcs.

each arc is essentially the investigation of a future corpse in order find out time of death, cause of death, and other clues that can help prevent the death. there’s allergic reactions, science accidents, electrocution, premeditated murder, a beheading… it’s a very dangerous school…

satsuki does this while being ostracized by the majority of her classmates because she has a reputation for telling people they’re going to die. there’s some pretty intense bullying and multiple impressively rancid high school gals. and abuse. it’s a pretty heavy series. but you see, the reason I have this as femslash february rec post—despite it not being a romance—is because:

it really is Like This throughout btw, though komachi also has… well…

This Stuff going on. anyway, it’s vaguely under the yuri umbrella in the same way teppu is (though liar satsuki hasn’t had two female characters symbolically depicted as getting married in the mma arena) (yet). this would be good for folks who like high stakes high tension action/mystery/supernatural stuff and also gay undertones

#femslash feb recs #recs #ff recs #also as a warning there are several arcs that deal with suicide & there are a few times in the series that satsuke has suicidal ideation #this is also in the ff recs because there’s no het tax. no male lead that threatens heterosexuality.#well there is an antagonistic duo that are… kind of together… but who cares #it’s like. it’s not yuri in the way banana fish isn’t bl (has not read bf yet)

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cannibalmutual · 20 days

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#personal #delete later #one thing abt me i love suicidal ideation #i’m so stressed and i kind of hate my [redacted] and i don’t know what to do #but u kno what a rlly easy solution would be .#you’ll never guess #if i ever did pls don’t sell my dolls idk what to do with them but idk if i could stand it #me sitting here abt to type out my will in tumblr tags #:|#lame ass suicidal bitch can’t even leave a note like a normal person #as a side note i have no active plans just active desire #but i’m tired and my cat is asleep on my feet and im hoping it will rain again soon

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disasterhimbo · 2 months

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Something that doesn’t get talked about enough I think is that when you’re in survival mode for an extended period of time, when you try to get out, it’s extra hard because you haven’t been building yourself a future gradually and continuously like you normally would, and now you have to try to do a lot of it all at once when you’re already tired and struggling.

#my post #original post #personal #a secret third kind of post #depression #mental illness #mental health #suicidal ideation #I’ve just been eating and sleeping and trying not to kill myself #I don’t have a plan #(for my life I mean. or even the near future)#if there was a future ready and waiting for me this would be so much easier #vicious cycle

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starrysharks · 3 months

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don't hop aboard that scheme of hers; wouldn't you prefer... a lie-ridden side, full of dark secrets to hide - and yet, revealing them is our talent and pride!

#zeno's art #ocs #lillith lyremann #alright new character yayy #her whole thing is that she kind of entices drama in the group despite claiming to want things done cleanly #like its hard to explain but shes kind of given up on life and wants to see everything burn #but i wont spoil anything :D #also deciding to have all the characters be like very bright saturated in one color #and then when theyre in “real life” and not like ghosts places everything else is grey n shit #well thats if i actually make this into a comic #its all being overhauled now so idk but it'd be fun so maybe?#ok tags #suicide #mass suicide #suicidal ideation

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gaylittlewizardcat · 8 months

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I think the reason “Ride the Cyclone and Cats are kind of the same musical” bothers me so much is because that argument almost always uses the “the Jellicle Ball is a competition and everyone who sings a song wants to be the Choice” interpretation of Cats which, while I 100% accept it as one of many valid interpretations, is a reading of the show I dislike with a passion

#cats the musical #it makes me feel Bad Religion Feelings #usually thinking about the Everlasting Cat and the Jellicles as a religious group makes me happy #but this interpretation of what the Jellicle Choice *is* and *means* just makes me uncomfortable #I kind of think it has a hint of suicidal ideation #like ‘I’m willing to throw away the rest of my life for a new life that I will then also be throwing away just to be The Choice’#it’s like they want to be the choice simply *to be the choice*#they don’t need any motivation they just want to be picked as The Best Cat #no matter what they might lose in the process #but that is also based on *my* interpretation that most cats don’t keep any memories #gay little ramblings #the man over there #this warrants that tag cause I basically only see people outside the fandom make this comparison #the Jellicle Choice in my mind is a guarantee that you’ll be reborn *specifically* as a Jellicle - but all cats are reborn 9 times #they just might not be a member of the Jellicle Clowder in their next life #it’s a reassurance that there will be people who are there for you on the other side #that why I only see Griz and Gus as ‘competing’ (though I really don’t see it as a competition at all)#Grizabella doesn’t have anyone now and Gus might not have anyone much longer #for everyone else it feels like they want to be the choice Just Because #and that feels a bit cult-y #‘we want the religious reward because we’re supposed to want it’#and as much as I love the ‘the Jellicles are a death cult’ jokes (I don’t)#I really feels like it has uncomfortable implications for the Jellicle as a family #as a community

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lunarharp · 1 month

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oh darling, make it go away (kate bush lyrics part 4, "this woman's work")

#witch hat tag #orufrey #cw for suicidal ideation mention (?) in tags tho this truly isn't necessarily what this art depicts - but - sometimes i think about -#if i'm doomed wouldn't it be better if oru forgot all about me? he's so kind he'll probably be really sad about it #so maybe it'd be better if - but i couldn't - no - maybe what would be really better is if i -#No. I know you have a little life in you yet. I know you have a lot of strength left.

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honeysmokedham · 4 days

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Another kind of Nightmare || Elias & Nora

TIMING: The Day of the Trial LOCATION: Saol Eile, the clinic PARTIES: Elias and Nora SUMMARY: Nora goes to retrieve Declan's Body. Elias is hanging out. WARNINGS: Suicidal Ideation tw

They came for Regan. Nora didn’t know what time it was, how long they had been down there, or where they took her. There were only the words trial and tar thrown around, the harsh of the ts clicking against the damp silence of the prison. Nora didn’t want to let go of Regan, but the physical effort to grab her and hold on exceeded anything she could muster. She was a wraith of who she once was, empty, shattered, broken. She watched Regan go, dragged up the stairs, a ringing in her ears. She was going to lose another person. It was all she was capable of.

The warmth left with Regan. The small oasis of something that wasn’t the soul-tearing pain of loss had been a distraction. She was left, once more, face to face with the reality of life. Declan was dead. Her promise to save him as empty as the space next to her. She wanted to see him again. She needed to see him again. Nora left the prison. It had never been the bars that held her there. They were only effective in holding Regan, and Regan had held Nora. They’d unknowingly untethered her by taking Regan. So she left. The streets of Saol Eile were empty. No one around would question the dried blood that crusted to her clothing and under her fingernails. It was one less obstacle.

The walk to the clinic had warped. Before walking the streets of Saol Eile was warm, and bright. This was a good place to be. Now Nora could see the ghosts of the dead, lined in rows, their gaunt eyes watching her stumbling lone parade. Had they been here the whole time? Had her relaxed eager attitude blinded her to their stabbed wounds? Blood coated them. Blood coated her. She should have been dead with them.

There was someone in the clinic. She could smell them first, it was familiar, but not familiar enough for her to care. It wasn’t Declan. She slid in, the wraith, the monster, the would-be ghost. A familiar man lay sprawled out on a cot, tension wired through his body, popping his veins. Bandages were crossworked onto his flesh, all over. “You look like shit.” The words croaked out of her throat. In the past, this would have been the time to scare him. An illusioned monster hovering over his bed. He would have peed himself. But nothing would ever be as scary as what happened here. “Why aren’t you at the trial?”

______

Wynne had left Elias when the trial had begun. As much as he’d wanted to attend, to be there for his friend, he didn’t have the strength. Turned out, being stabbed that many times? It sucked. It sucked a lot. Pain bloomed in his left shoulder, where the first stab had happened. He’d be lucky if he didn’t sustain any nerve damage. Funny, he thought, that the person who designs the prosthetics might be the one who ends up needing them.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the pain began to take over, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep it off, hope that it would go away if he just stopped thinking about it. Of course, it wasn’t that easy. He’d been stabbed four times, and his throat had been almost slit. He’d nearly died. It was almost him thrown in that tar pit. But Regan… she didn’t let it come to that. She saved him and damned herself all because of Elias’s stupidity to follow someone to Ireland. He should have stayed in Main, should have accepted what was. But of course, he was stupid. He didn’t.

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and he went rigid as a board, preparing for a final blow that finally put him under, but it never came. Instead, he opened his eyes to see a familiar face that once terrified him. It should terrify him, but he was so tired and so done with everything that he just stared blankly at her. You look like shit, she had said. He’d barely registered his words, took him a few seconds to catch up with the world outside his own pain before letting out a hiss of pain.

“Cliodhna tortured me.” He told her, his voice gravelly and barely there. The slit on his throat had done something to his vocal chords. He continued to stare blankly at Nora, no emotions rising to the surface, only numbness in the place of what should be emotions. At least she was alive. She didn’t look like she wanted to be, though. He could see it in her eyes. He knew that look.

“I’m not there because I can’t move without tearing open a stitch.” He told her, that same emotionless stare on his face. “Why aren’t you?” He asked, having no idea of what the other had been through. He had no idea the pain she was in, how she’d lost everything. He wanted to care, but he just… didn’t. She’d given him no reason to care, and he was done reaching out to people who didn’t want it. So instead, he answered her questions, then closed his eyes again, that same tenseness in his face as the pain continued to do numbers on him.

_____

The ground still trembled, pieces of debris falling away as she took a step. Each stumbling step forward begged to be her last. The world could disappear, and it was all she wanted. She leaned against Elias’s bed, looking down at the human sacrifice that lived. Jealousy mixed with anger mixed with guilt in a tornado of emotion. It raged through her body with such veracity she thought she’d lose control and topple over. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She had to keep going, she couldn’t stop until she at least tried to fulfill her promise. But why him? Why not Delcan? It was wrong, and selfish and proof that she was the monster she always knew herself to be. But that thought nagged at her.

“I’m going to go.” Nora told Elias after the tornado subsided, leaving her with only the earthquakes under her feet. “I have something I need to do first.” Nora forced herself back into motion. The few scattering of morgue ranged freezers in the back wouldn’t take long to search, but Nora already knew. Frozen in time, overshadowed by the start of rot and decay, Nora would still recognize Declan’s scent anywhere. Her arms trembled, replicas of a baby deer’s first steps, as she drew them close. A breath. Two breaths. Please be alive. She begged the universe. I will sell my soul to anyone if you’re alive. Please be alive.

Declan wasn’t alive. His body was cold, his eyes empty. The red of his sliced flesh faded into blue. Nora’s knees buckled. The earthquakes gained magnitude. The tornado raged. The ground fell beneath her feet. “I’m so sorry.” A whisper. A breath. A plea. A cry. Her hand stopped on her cheek, resting there for one final time. Eternity slipped away from her. If it hadn’t been for the ragged breaths, the awareness of Elias’s eyes on her, she thought maybe she would have died there.

“Do you need anything before I go?” A wheelchair was near. She pushed it over. Declan’s lifeless body was heavy, but Nora would not leave him here. This would not be his final resting place. It was with all the care in the world that she maneuvered him from the freezer and into the chair. Tucking a blanket around him, as if his dead body could feel the cold biting him. “Water?” Maybe she should thank Elias, her unwillingness to display the ocean of grief she was currently lost in was thanks to his presence. She could do this. She could get this one thing done for Declan.

_____

He could see the monsoon of emotion on Nora’s face, and Elias felt as though he shouldn’t be there. If it were up to him, he’d go upstairs. But as things were up to his very broken and weak body, he couldn’t. So instead, he turned his head away to give Nora a semblance of privacy. He couldn't imagine what she was going through, to lose someone that she’d formed such a solid connection with. He’d heard about the goings on between her and Declan from Wynne and their frustration towards it. Still, he couldn’t get himself to feel, to care, to anything. It was as if someone had turned off the switch that controlled his empathy. Perhaps it was because he was still in survival mode, knowing that his body wasn’t right even after the attempts at first aid that Wynne had done.

He was grateful to Wynne, of course. They were the reason he was alive. But even still, he just felt numb. He heard Nora whisper something, and he cracked open an eye to see her by the body of the boy she had loved. His heart broke for her. He watched as she maneuvered the body into the wheelchair, and his frown deepened. There was nothing he could say to ease her pain, nothing that would make it better. So he said nothing at all.

Then, she was asking if he needed anything. “I’ll…” his voice was still so hoarse and broken. “Be fine.” He finally finished out, shaking his head until the pain caused him to stop. Stupid shoulder. “I’m…” he started to say, looking over to Nora. “Sorry. For your loss…” The words came out slow and halted, but he got them out. He was just so tired. He needed to sleep. He thought of Emilio’s words, how if anything happened to Nora or Wynne, there would be hell to pay. But he was the one that had gotten physically hurt. Nora was going through a hell of her own. An emotional pain that rivaled Elias’s physical pain.

Even as he sat in that clinic with no one to watch over him, Elias felt like he was on borrowed time. If he didn’t get to a hospital soon, he would be in trouble. Regan’s favorite thing would be realized if he contracted sepsis, wouldn’t it? He remembered her cries of desperation, pleading for his life because he was her best friend. She’d said it. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the emotional pain that would make the physical too much to bear.

_____

The shadow moved into the wheels of Declan's wheelchair because it knew Nora couldn't look down. If this journey was going to be made, she couldn't get lost in the lifeless image that had just recently been her bright and vibrant future. The shadow stabbed her legs with blunt safety pins, it cackled at Elias’s voice. Sorry for your loss. Sorry for her loss. Sorry for the loss that she had caused. The loss that only happened because she was here. Declan would have been alive if Nora hadn’t come to Ireland. Sorry for the loss she caused the world. Sorry you killed Declan. Sorry you’re a murderer, always killing, always taking, always dragging precious life from anyone who gets close. Sorry you’re not smart enough to listen to save a life. Sorry all of this could been avoided. Sorry you thought yourself talented enough to save a life. Sorry for your loss. Because the loss was your fault.

“Thanks.” The world was crumpled, gone, collapsed. Sorry for her loss. Sorry for killing Declan. All she could say was Thanks. “Thanks.” A word so useless, so meaningless, so self-flagellating she said it twice. “It should have been me.” The words slipped out, reshackling themselves around Nora’s wrists, dragging her down. Anchoring her to the ground, her legs trembled from the holes the safety pins left gorged into them. She hadn’t meant to tell Elias that. She didn’t want Elias to see that weakness. She didn’t want to display the shame, but the words were an avalanche that kept coming. Stuck in the never-ending loop, incapable of moving forward, circling the drain but never disappearing down it. “It should have been me.”

Nora didn’t want Elias to comfort her. Nora didn’t want anyone to comfort her. Comfort was the last thing on her mind, it was forgiveness for her greatest crime. It was a water bottle in the desert. Or Emilio in the graveyard after Debbie’s death. Van coming to check on Nora in the winter. It was compassion too large, too massive, too exponential. Repulsive even. “Thanks.” That word again. Nora couldn’t get out of her head. Couldn’t get her legs moving. Couldn’t push the wheelchair into motion. “Sorry for your…” The sentence trailed away. The word too hard to find. The effort too pointless. It would be understood.

_____

There was no answering the devastated statements of a virtual stranger. He’d never gone through true grief like Nora was going through, he’d never understand it until he experienced it for himself. For that, he was lucky. For that, he would be grateful for. Laying there in the clinic, he should be more grateful to be alive. But it was hard. Instead, he felt numb. He felt hollowed out and raw. Maybe he wasn’t grieving the death of a loved one, but he was grieving the death of who he once was. That Elias was never going to come back, not ever.

Instead of offering her words of comfort, Elias just looked her way, then straightened his neck, closing his eyes. He wanted to say something about how he couldn’t wait to get out of there, or something to just say something. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t get himself to speak anymore than he was, still exhausted and fighting the pain that just wouldn’t quit. “I’d say that he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, but. I didn’t know him. Didn’t know you either.” He said simply, looking over to Nora out of the corner of his eye. “Grief is a shitty journey that we all have to walk alone. But I hope that one day, you’re able to find a bit of peace.” Despite the pain he was in, he wanted to go to that trial, despite the feeling that he was dancing on a tightrope of death, he wanted to still be there for Regan. Despite everything he’d been through, he still wanted to help, to be there. He had to stop caring about people that just didn’t give a shit about him. Regan didn’t care. Only when it suited her. Elias’s expression darkened before he took a shallow breath, it hurt too much to take deeper ones. “Good luck with whatever it is you need to do.” He said instead, trying to say that she could leave without speaking the words into existence.

_____

The earthquakes weakened. The tornado subsided. The tsunami’s wave dropped into her ocean of grief, the tide eroding her from the inside out. Elias was being kind, a lot kinder than Nora deserved considering the countless hours she’d spent bullying him. But it was a struggle to care. All her energy had to be focused on her task. One step forward would turn into two. Anything else had to wait. Nora missed Regan’s warmth holding her up. She hoped Regan wouldn’t die but even that thought was an ember flickering out, where once a fire would have roared inside her.

“Thanks.” She was a broken record. Her voice box still shattered, the glass still nestled deep, the shadow still behind her shoulder. She wanted so badly to say more, be more, help more, but wants were wishes and wishes killed people she fell in love with. “Thanks.” Maybe he could read all the words stitched between the syllables. Maybe he’d work out the distress, the panic, the pain and understand that she heard him but she couldn’t answer him.

“It should have been me,” It slipped out again as she mustered everything she had to push the wheelchair forward, towards the exit, marching past Elias’s punctured body. Of course it wasn’t what she’d meant to say. She bit her tongue until the taste of blood pooled in her mouth. She closed her eyes, focusing on the pain, the shadow laughed. “I’ll come back for you and Wynne. After the trial.” No matter what happened, Wynne had to get out. Wynne wanted to leave, Wynne tried to leave, if anyone got out for sure it would be Wynne. Nora would send Wynne without them if she had to. She’d try her best for Elias, but he didn’t look escape ready. But she would try for them all.

It wouldn’t work out, she knew that now. Nothing worked out. Nothing was chill. But what happened would happen, and Nora would have to cling on with her shaking fingers. Maybe they would survive, maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe it didn’t matter. One foot after another. Nora pushed through the clinic door and stepped into the street full of ghosts. They watched her with dead eyes. One foot at a time.

#chatzy #chatzy: elias #another kind of nightmare #suicidal ideation tw

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