#solo2

The world was crashing down around him. Literally and figuratively, Nate’s reality was crumbling. Glass rained down over him, peppering his arms and face with little cuts, drops of crimson blossoming over newly healed skin. Pressure in his chest yanked him upside down, replacing his ruined bake shop with his cracked and bloody windshield, but the sense of hopelessness remained the same. His body crumpled under the weight of his actions, his very atoms trying their darndest to shrink in on themselves. The scene before him flickered back and forth between the wreckage of his car and the wreckage of his shop, switching so quickly Nate couldn’t keep up, unsure if the whiplash was from the accident or all in his head. 

He couldn’t stop shaking. Fear and anxiety had kept him safe these past few months, sheltering him from the monsters he was seeing - hallucinating. But fear had made him act out tonight, dear had put a shard of glass in his hand and fear had told him to lash out. His frantic slashing had made contact with real, human skin. Well, mostly human. Probably. But she’d broken in here! She had come at him with a knife, poised and ready to kill. Right?? And those teeth. It was self defense, but all Nate felt was guilt. What if she ended up in the hospital just as he had? Where was her family? Would they wait by her bedside like his had until she came around? Would they read to her, sleep by her, bring her cookies every day until she woke up? Would they have the same razor sharp teeth and wild eyes? 

There weren’t enough tears in his body to cry, not enough air in the room to breathe. Even if his attack had been in self defense, if something happened to this girl who was so clearly out of her mind, Nate would never forgive himself. Dry sobs raked his body with a pain like he’d never felt. After his own accident, he could at least say it was just that, an accident. This wasn’t the same. 

After what felt like hours suspended in agony, Nate felt his breath slowing, the adrenaline beginning to wane. Exhaustion set in and Nate opened his eyes for the first time, finally surveying the damage. It could have been worse, but the blood stains were already setting into the old oak floors, the glass and icing smearing around like some awful version of kindergartners playing with flour. The glass cases were mostly destroyed, all of his day’s creations ruined. He could only imagine the state of his back room. 

Dabbing a finger on the fresh wound on his arm, Nate winced, hoping it wouldn’t need stitches. Slow, dragging footsteps brought him to the back door where the girl had pushed herself through, wielding one of the knives his parents had gotten him as a grand opening present. Fingernails peeked out of the wall, clearly left over from the girl phasing through it. What the heck even did that to someone? Nate never wanted to find out. He ran a bloody hand through his hair and grabbed the broom that had been his weapon and began to clean.