Sarcasm's not what Richard wants to deal with right now, thanks. And he doesn't give a damn that Fletch pinched his nerves enough to make him pass out. And he sure as hell doesn't give a damn that he's alive right now. He's not thankful for it, at least.
He says nothing, eyes still squeezed shut. He could try to stop himself from crying. Is stopping himself from crying. But what's the point? What does he have to be strong for? Everything is pointless. Everything is gone. Isabella's cross...
A sob escapes, despite his efforts. He presses his hands to his head as if that'll stop all the sobs from coming, as if that'll stop the pain, as if that'll do anything to change the fact that he lost the one thing he had from someone he loved in a world without purpose or reason, where all he had as a consolation was a broken foot and a useless life.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2010-05-14 05:59 pm (UTC)He says nothing, eyes still squeezed shut. He could try to stop himself from crying. Is stopping himself from crying. But what's the point? What does he have to be strong for? Everything is pointless. Everything is gone. Isabella's cross...
A sob escapes, despite his efforts. He presses his hands to his head as if that'll stop all the sobs from coming, as if that'll stop the pain, as if that'll do anything to change the fact that he lost the one thing he had from someone he loved in a world without purpose or reason, where all he had as a consolation was a broken foot and a useless life.