11-20-2015, 11:46 AM
All things are possible, even the worst of things.
Sometimes he wonders if there is anything good left in the world. In him. He knows that there must be, but at this moment in time, he cannot seem to find it. Darkness swirls in his mind just as it tangles about his legs, a writhing, aching hollow that seems to torment him with his past misdeeds. With the terrible things he knows will yet come. He doesn’t know what it will be. He simply knows that this is not the end. Even death, he knows, is not the end.
He doesn’t notice at first that she seems to be battling back pain of her own. That she must count to maintain her composure. Normally, he might have asked her what is wrong, might have offered his support, a shoulder to cry on. But in his misery, he is wholly selfish. He asks no questions, only stares at her with hollow eyes. Eyes too lost in their own despair to even contemplate hers.
She is not his mother. Of course she isn’t. A momentary madness had prompted him to see her face where it is most certainly not. He doesn’t realize, not yet. Doesn’t realize that the resemblance is real, that the pieces of Scorch he had erroneously (or so he thought) seen in her face are actually there. But he is not left even that solace for long.
She tries to be kind, to help him in the best way she knows how. He can appreciate that. Or he could have, at one time. At her questions, he shakes his head in confusion. His head drops, tipping slightly so that he can find that which she speaks of. He eyes widen slightly in alarm as a huff of breath escapes his lungs. Suddenly and violently, he stomps his feet, trying to rid himself of the dark blotches clinging to his skin. To his surprise, the shadows retreat, slithering from neck and barrel and leg until nothing remains but the shadow his body casts.
I don’t… I don’t know.
When the words finally come out, they are as confused as she must be. He wonders for a moment if she thinks him crazy. But then her final words register, her name sinks in. His head whips up as his watery brown eyes fix on her. He feels as if he has been kicked in the stomach, the breath leaving his chest on a sharp exhale. When he speaks again, the word escapes on a wheeze.
Sarkis?
He shakes his head, trying to dispel her image. But he can’t, she is standing right there in front of him. He sees it now. The similarities he was trying to ignore before.
No. No, no. Oh god…
He blinks back tears, more of them threatening to fall.
I’m sorry. So, so sorry.
He doesn’t notice at first that she seems to be battling back pain of her own. That she must count to maintain her composure. Normally, he might have asked her what is wrong, might have offered his support, a shoulder to cry on. But in his misery, he is wholly selfish. He asks no questions, only stares at her with hollow eyes. Eyes too lost in their own despair to even contemplate hers.
She is not his mother. Of course she isn’t. A momentary madness had prompted him to see her face where it is most certainly not. He doesn’t realize, not yet. Doesn’t realize that the resemblance is real, that the pieces of Scorch he had erroneously (or so he thought) seen in her face are actually there. But he is not left even that solace for long.
She tries to be kind, to help him in the best way she knows how. He can appreciate that. Or he could have, at one time. At her questions, he shakes his head in confusion. His head drops, tipping slightly so that he can find that which she speaks of. He eyes widen slightly in alarm as a huff of breath escapes his lungs. Suddenly and violently, he stomps his feet, trying to rid himself of the dark blotches clinging to his skin. To his surprise, the shadows retreat, slithering from neck and barrel and leg until nothing remains but the shadow his body casts.
I don’t… I don’t know.
When the words finally come out, they are as confused as she must be. He wonders for a moment if she thinks him crazy. But then her final words register, her name sinks in. His head whips up as his watery brown eyes fix on her. He feels as if he has been kicked in the stomach, the breath leaving his chest on a sharp exhale. When he speaks again, the word escapes on a wheeze.
Sarkis?
He shakes his head, trying to dispel her image. But he can’t, she is standing right there in front of him. He sees it now. The similarities he was trying to ignore before.
No. No, no. Oh god…
He blinks back tears, more of them threatening to fall.
I’m sorry. So, so sorry.
shahrizai
hestoni x scorch