Scar (
envy_the_sinners) wrote in
damned_institute2012-07-19 01:40 am
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DAY 65: Breakfast
Scar came to slowly, vision blurred and head throbbing. His memory of the previous night was vague and somewhat scattered. What he was most aware of was his renewed and increased hatred for the man called Lingormr. The Ishbalan didn't give a damn if he had been a special counseling patient. That bastard had enjoyed every second of tearing Scar to shreds. What he may or may not have realized was how much it had affected Scar emotionally. He had felt a renewed sense of drive at the start of the night; the disruption on the intercom and the news of the 'cure' had rekindled a fire that fueled Scar to drive forward. To have a little hope.
Lingormr had promptly crushed that.
He was in pain. So much pain. The cut on his hand was only fading scab at this point, but stitches now pulled at the deep gashes in his legs and back. Not only had the nausea not settled, but his stomach was beginning to cramp. The rash on his arm was impossible to hide without the old bandages covering it. It had nearly reached his elbow.
Scar's hazy eyes could make out the nurse, now pushing a wheelchair up to his bedside. This was humiliating. And he was too exhausted and hurting to lash out or become angry. He was just broken. He still tried to take some sort of grudging control, insisting that he didn't need to be pushed around, that he could at least turn the wheels of the damned chair himself. But he didn't make it down the hallway before the pulling and sharp pain in his back became so obvious on his face that the nurse took over.
He entered breakfast with a frustrated, tired, but overall defeated look to him. Scar felt too sick to eat. He sat at the table and brooded, wishing more than anything to simply be left alone.
[For Goku!]
Lingormr had promptly crushed that.
He was in pain. So much pain. The cut on his hand was only fading scab at this point, but stitches now pulled at the deep gashes in his legs and back. Not only had the nausea not settled, but his stomach was beginning to cramp. The rash on his arm was impossible to hide without the old bandages covering it. It had nearly reached his elbow.
Scar's hazy eyes could make out the nurse, now pushing a wheelchair up to his bedside. This was humiliating. And he was too exhausted and hurting to lash out or become angry. He was just broken. He still tried to take some sort of grudging control, insisting that he didn't need to be pushed around, that he could at least turn the wheels of the damned chair himself. But he didn't make it down the hallway before the pulling and sharp pain in his back became so obvious on his face that the nurse took over.
He entered breakfast with a frustrated, tired, but overall defeated look to him. Scar felt too sick to eat. He sat at the table and brooded, wishing more than anything to simply be left alone.
[For Goku!]
no subject
When he told her what the problem was, Nina gasped. "A what?" she said. "Here?" Glancing around, some of the other people in the dining hall looked young, but twelve? It couldn't be. This was no place for a child.
"I'm sorry. That's...." She trailed off.
no subject
There was a hard note to Murphy's voice. He ignored his breakfast, the joy and novelty of proper food paling in comparison to the fact that there were kids here. Real kids. Living, breathing kids that had lives outside of this nightmare. The ex-con swallowed hard and pushed his food away, frustrated and heartsick.
"I'm not watching anymore kids die. We've got to do something."
no subject
Nina's voice was plaintive, hopeless, and lost. She didn't disagree with Murphy in the slightest. On the contrary, she felt her veins flood with hot anger while at the same time, it felt like there was a painful tug on her heartstrings. To do this to adults was bad enough. But to trap children in a place like this? That was unspeakable, and unforgivable.
But she knew, too, that it seemed completely impossible that they'd be able to do anything. All Nina could do was repeat her question, sounding just as plaintive and lost as before.
"Murphy, what can we do?"
no subject
Murphy felt a thickness rising in his throat, and for a moment his eyes watered and he saw Carol. Murphy, what can we do? He hadn't had an answer for Carol. All he had been able to give her was alcohol fueled rage and a target for her own anger and need to place blame. He hadn't been able to protect his own family.
He'd never been able to protect anyone, when it had come down to it. He'd failed every time.
He wasn't going to fail again.
The ex-con's jaw tightened and he reached across the table, covering Nina's hands with his own.
"We can stop the bad guys," he said, firmly. "And until we can do that...we try and keep'em safe. And I promise you, Nina, I swear it...I am going to do everything I can to keep you safe in here."
He couldn't bear to hear that hopelessness in her voice, that loss and sorrow and desperation. It was like an ice pick in his heart.
no subject
They could try and keep them safe. The children. But Nina knew, and Murphy probably knew too deep down inside, that they couldn't be everywhere at once, to stop every bad guy or monster or rampaging, ravaging thing like the one that had caused the carnage the two of them had witnessed on their first night in Landel's.
But Nina saw no point in saying any of that out loud. Instead she just nodded. She even tried to laugh a little. "You don't need to worry about me," she said. "I can take care of myself. I promise. Just focus on taking care of yourself." She appreciated that he would want to look out for her, though. It was a kind gesture.
no subject
"I...protect people," he managed. "I mean, I'm supposed to protect people..." He didn't want to start babbling about God's plan or any of that spiritual shit, but he felt like he had a duty. He had the ability to protect people. God might not have given him much of a brain, but he'd given him fists and the force to use them. He was a brute. He wasn't going to be cracking any great mysteries or uncovering wall-shaking secrets.
But he could beat monsters into a bloody pulp.