#gviltcomplex

╰ ゜  •   * . ( WAKING FROM A NIGHTMARE   /   THOMAS    )

         EVERYTHING  WAS  SUPPOSED  TO  BE  OKAY.   they  were  safe  ;  a  little  bruised  ,  a  little  broken,  but  they  were  safe   —-   yet  ,  teresa  can’t  help  the  way  her  gaze  is  fixed  on  the  ground  after  she  wakes  up  ,  as  if  this  is  their  moment  to  recenter  ,  to  rebuild  all  they’ve  lost  ,  not  hers.  she’s  not  supposed  to  be  here  ,  none  of  this  was  meant  for  her    (  the  traitor  ,  the  one  in  the  wrong.  )    slow  steps  are  taken  across  the  camp  they  call  paradise  ,  avoiding  the  gaze  of  others  ,  drowning  out  the  feeling  that  seems  to  claw  at  her  insides  ,  reminding  her  over  and  over  of  all  that  she’s  sacrificed  and  ,  despite  their  benevolence  in  rescuing  her  from  the  rubble  ,  bringing  her  along  ,  she  knows  thomas  is  the  only  reason  why  they  did,  she  would  never  be  welcome  if  it  wasn’t  for  him    —-   THOMAS.

                 gaze  lifts  suddenly  ,  scanning  the  many  faces  for  a  specific  one  ,  the  only  face  with  the  power  to  either  soothe  her  storm  or  make  it  all  much  worse.  whichever  the  case  may  be  ,  all  she  knows  is  she  has  to  see  him  ,  has  to  find  him  ,  to  hear  from  him  no  matter  what  it  is  he  has  to  say.  she  feels  his  presence  before  gaze  even  finds  him  ,  feels  herself  GRAVITATING  towards  him  like  he’s  a  magnet  ,  trying  to  ignore  the  sudden  urgency  as  steps  grow  slightly  quicker  only  to  slow  down  once  she’s  close  enough  ,  ceasing  when  they’re  face  to  face.     “  hey...  “    voice  is  small  ,  a  tone  she  subconsciously  only  ever  uses  with  him.  slender  fingers  tuck  a  lock  of  hair  behind  her  ear  ,  lips  parting  for  a  moment  too  long  before  she  speaks.     “  can  we  talk  ? ?  “

            FOUR   WORD   PROMPTS.      /      it’s   not   newt’s   physical   strength   that   keeps   shoulders   anchored   to   cement   walls   ,   or   that    keeps   palms   flat   against   the   ground.   it’s   his   mental   strength   ,  the   little   bit   he   has   left   that’s   under   his   control.      ❛      tommy.      ❜      a   desperate   plea   for   his   full   attention   is  muttered   ,   breathless   and   almost   inaudible.      ❛      i   …   i   …      ❜      syllables   are   mixed   with   grunts   ,   ones   that   arise   from   the   flare.   please   ,   excuse   him   for   stuttering   ,   for   growling   –––   that’s   not   your   friend   ,  that’s   what  he’s   become.   a   hard   swallow   forces   crank - like   behavior  down   again   for   just   a   split   second   (   that’s   all   he   needs   ).   eyes   go   soft   ,   shoulders   relax   ,   and   bottom   lip   trembles   in   the   slightest   as   newt   tries   to   figure   out   the   right   words   to  say.   he   may   not   have   many   left.

          THIS DOESN’T FEEL LIKE PARADISE. oh, sure ---- newt was reunited with his friends and they were joined together in a new world, a world of P E A C E. unfortunately, newt felt anything but peace. every time he closes his eyes, he remembers the feeling of i n s a n i t y. he remembers ATTACKING thomas ; begging him to kill him and if thomas wouldn’t ?? newt would kill him. it was a constant turbulence in his mind ----- the scenes playing over && over, every waking moment. 

the nightmares, of course, are worse -------- but no one talks about those. the community was small enough ; everyone could probably hear him screaming, but no one said anything. perhaps they didn’t know what to say or didn’t know what to do. after all, how could you comfort someone with something like this ??

            well, he can’t say that for thomas, of course.

speak of the devil, newt opens brown orbs to see doe eyes staring back at him and he G R I M A C E S at the stare, shuffling uncomfortably. guilt ---- he realizes, is the bane of his existence.

soft angst || accepting 

                                                                                       “I only ever cared for ––” 

          Quiet broken words left her lips too slowly as everything around them happened too quickly. The sentence hung unfinished in the air, sounds of cracking concrete drowning out her voice –– AND HE WAS GONE. And he probably didn’t hear any of it. It was enough to make her want to give up as the headquarters collapsed around her, but she couldn’t. WICKED would not take her life as it did so many others.

Diligently, as she tried to ignore sharp pain radiating from nearly every bone in her body, Teresa shoved debris off herself. It felt like she was clawing her way out of her own grave –– BURIED ALIVE, unable to breathe. Dizzy –– lightheaded, she had lost too much blood. It was pointless. She couldn’t stop the Flare, and she couldn’t save the human race. She couldn’t even save herself.

WEAK, she stopped fighting, her head falling against the stone floor. “You,” she whispered, unable to hear even herself over the falling building. 

                                                                                       “Hey, I’ve got you. It’s okay.”