Crush the World Down
Posted: Mon Nov 04, 2019 7:35 pm
((Colin McCabe continued from Moss and Bones))
Colin marched on alone until all around him was fully cloaked in the dark of night.
What a motherfucker he was, huh?
With nowhere apparent left to go, Colin didn’t so much sit down as he did feel himself collapse to the ground.
Where was he now, three full days into the ordeal? Nowhere. He’d thrashed around like an animal time and again and yet nothing changed, except that he found himself a little more hurt and a little more tired every single time.
If he really wanted to dig into it, get all metaphorical about his situation, it was kind of like he was already going through a kind of slow death, the kind that something or someone goes through when they get old and there’s no real path out and everything they do just speeds up the process.
He’d seen that sort of thing happen, not with a person, but with his dog. Frank, stupid old mutt that he was, had fucked up his back legs trying to get down the stairssince he was getting too old to do that shit and because Colin and his mom had been too stupid to see that that was the end for the guy, they’d tried to cook up some little brace to try to keep him moving, even though Frank had probably fucked up more than his legs
The dog lingered for months and It got to the point where Colin had to struggle with carrying him outside to piss (Frank was not a small dog) and Frank couldn’t even squat to shit anymore so just stopped eating.
Frank would look at him as he tried to get up and failed, as if to ask Colin what was wrong and if he could fix it. He couldn’t do anything but sit around and let the dog linger for months before he finally died.
That’s what he was, then. A dying dog waiting for the end.
How long would he have to wait?
In the moment Colin couldn’t even summon his anger anymore. All he could do was curl up under his emergency blanket and sob until he finally drifted into sleep…
~~~~~~~~~~
So, that night? Yeah, scratch all that insane, defeatist shit.
There was shit that had to get done and Colin certainly wasn’t in some fucking death spiral just yet.
The announcements for the fourth day had confirmed Volker’s kill (guy was named Arjen, apparently) and revealed that the Layla bitch that had tried to fuck him up had apparently gone up against a big fish that wasn’t so merciful as Colin had been.
Mercy. On top of some immediate, physical concerns, the topic of mercy was something that’d need a bit of thought today.
First, though, there was the matter of his bandaging. Aliya had started the job well enough, but he’d need to reinforce it on his own. Making his way to the lake’s edge, Colin tried his best to use his reflection in the water’s surface to properly apply the bandages to his head.
The process was slow, it had to be. He couldn’t afford to fuck up in that moment, he had to be methodical.
As he worked, the question of mercy lingered in his mind.
He’d chosen not to finish Paloma off when he’d had the chance. Even with Volker, he hadn’t approached with the intent to kill from the start and even found some weak part of himself was relieved that he hadn’t been forced to kill the guy in that moment.
That hesitation, that weakness had gotten someone killed and had left another presumably not far from death’s door (Tony hadn’t been on the announcements, but you don’t just bounce back after some big-ass spike goes through you).
It was clear now that he’d been a coward in that regard, reluctant to do what had to be done. In order to ensure the survival of the innocent, if stupid, members of George Hunter’s senior class, he’d have to do what was necessary and stop those who put their own well-being above everyone else’s no matter what.
To keep everyone safe, he needed to become a killer himself.
Colin took hours ensuring that the bandaging on his head was thorough and secure before moving onto his next matter of business: weapons.
Now, on the fourth day, Colin still found himself without a proper weapon, and it seemed about time to take such matters into his own hands.
Moving away from the lakeside, Colin eventually found himself a large enough stick and a sharp enough rock to suit his needs. That was what people did back in prehistoric times did, and it would have to be enough for him right now.
The process of sharpening the end of his makeshift spear into a fine point took longer (and involved more splinters) than he had expected, but soon he had for himself a device that might pass as a weapon, but the day was mostly gone by that point.
It was no matter. He was prepared to do what was necessary now.
Colin McCabe would be the hero his class needed, whether everyone else had the guts to go along with him or not.
((The Hero continued in Paradise is Nowhere))
Colin marched on alone until all around him was fully cloaked in the dark of night.
What a motherfucker he was, huh?
With nowhere apparent left to go, Colin didn’t so much sit down as he did feel himself collapse to the ground.
Where was he now, three full days into the ordeal? Nowhere. He’d thrashed around like an animal time and again and yet nothing changed, except that he found himself a little more hurt and a little more tired every single time.
If he really wanted to dig into it, get all metaphorical about his situation, it was kind of like he was already going through a kind of slow death, the kind that something or someone goes through when they get old and there’s no real path out and everything they do just speeds up the process.
He’d seen that sort of thing happen, not with a person, but with his dog. Frank, stupid old mutt that he was, had fucked up his back legs trying to get down the stairssince he was getting too old to do that shit and because Colin and his mom had been too stupid to see that that was the end for the guy, they’d tried to cook up some little brace to try to keep him moving, even though Frank had probably fucked up more than his legs
The dog lingered for months and It got to the point where Colin had to struggle with carrying him outside to piss (Frank was not a small dog) and Frank couldn’t even squat to shit anymore so just stopped eating.
Frank would look at him as he tried to get up and failed, as if to ask Colin what was wrong and if he could fix it. He couldn’t do anything but sit around and let the dog linger for months before he finally died.
That’s what he was, then. A dying dog waiting for the end.
How long would he have to wait?
In the moment Colin couldn’t even summon his anger anymore. All he could do was curl up under his emergency blanket and sob until he finally drifted into sleep…
~~~~~~~~~~
So, that night? Yeah, scratch all that insane, defeatist shit.
There was shit that had to get done and Colin certainly wasn’t in some fucking death spiral just yet.
The announcements for the fourth day had confirmed Volker’s kill (guy was named Arjen, apparently) and revealed that the Layla bitch that had tried to fuck him up had apparently gone up against a big fish that wasn’t so merciful as Colin had been.
Mercy. On top of some immediate, physical concerns, the topic of mercy was something that’d need a bit of thought today.
First, though, there was the matter of his bandaging. Aliya had started the job well enough, but he’d need to reinforce it on his own. Making his way to the lake’s edge, Colin tried his best to use his reflection in the water’s surface to properly apply the bandages to his head.
The process was slow, it had to be. He couldn’t afford to fuck up in that moment, he had to be methodical.
As he worked, the question of mercy lingered in his mind.
He’d chosen not to finish Paloma off when he’d had the chance. Even with Volker, he hadn’t approached with the intent to kill from the start and even found some weak part of himself was relieved that he hadn’t been forced to kill the guy in that moment.
That hesitation, that weakness had gotten someone killed and had left another presumably not far from death’s door (Tony hadn’t been on the announcements, but you don’t just bounce back after some big-ass spike goes through you).
It was clear now that he’d been a coward in that regard, reluctant to do what had to be done. In order to ensure the survival of the innocent, if stupid, members of George Hunter’s senior class, he’d have to do what was necessary and stop those who put their own well-being above everyone else’s no matter what.
To keep everyone safe, he needed to become a killer himself.
Colin took hours ensuring that the bandaging on his head was thorough and secure before moving onto his next matter of business: weapons.
Now, on the fourth day, Colin still found himself without a proper weapon, and it seemed about time to take such matters into his own hands.
Moving away from the lakeside, Colin eventually found himself a large enough stick and a sharp enough rock to suit his needs. That was what people did back in prehistoric times did, and it would have to be enough for him right now.
The process of sharpening the end of his makeshift spear into a fine point took longer (and involved more splinters) than he had expected, but soon he had for himself a device that might pass as a weapon, but the day was mostly gone by that point.
It was no matter. He was prepared to do what was necessary now.
Colin McCabe would be the hero his class needed, whether everyone else had the guts to go along with him or not.
((The Hero continued in Paradise is Nowhere))