"Seems so," he mutters under his breath, tired, weary, figures he's been shit outta luck for one helluva long time and it ain't like this is gonna be any different, here. He keeps one eye on her, watchin' real close-like, and there's somethin' hidden under those eyes that's some wild fear, waitin' for her t'bow down her head like th'green grass, turn brown, and wither away in front'a his very eyes.
And then she asks him.
She asks him like it ain't nothin', just throws it out there and he can't stop th'reflex, jerkin' back hard as she shifts forwards (don't touch me!), scramblin' back 'cept he ain't got no place t'go, tree at his back, so all it does is make him wince and hiss in pain, eyes too big, too bright.
His voice, when it comes, shakes. It ain't strong but he throws th'words at her with desperate force 'cause it's like she don't understand, it's like she goddamn wants t'die, like that mother all broken on th'ground and her son next to her broken past anythin' that would ever heal again and her whispered plea (take me) as she reached out for his small cold hand.
It shakes and it ain't strong but there's a core of somethin' like steel, twisted too far, bending, just behind the ragged cry. "Don't touch me, God--" and then it breaks and he bends his head down and can't look at her for a moment, strugglin' for breath, for somethin' even he don't know.
"Don't you ever. I ain't takin' no more, shoulda never. Never took it." Somethin' in his eyes, like he's pleadin' with her t'understand. "Ain't for me, y'know that, y'know I can't take." Th'words, they won't come right. He don't know what he wants to say. Took enough life t'keep him goin' for a while but that don't mean it don't still feel like he been carved up like a turkey.
He settles for "Please." and maybe she'll understand and maybe she won't but he's afraid if she comes t'him again and lays hands on he won't be able t'stop himself.
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And then she asks him.
She asks him like it ain't nothin', just throws it out there and he can't stop th'reflex, jerkin' back hard as she shifts forwards (don't touch me!), scramblin' back 'cept he ain't got no place t'go, tree at his back, so all it does is make him wince and hiss in pain, eyes too big, too bright.
His voice, when it comes, shakes. It ain't strong but he throws th'words at her with desperate force 'cause it's like she don't understand, it's like she goddamn wants t'die, like that mother all broken on th'ground and her son next to her broken past anythin' that would ever heal again and her whispered plea (take me) as she reached out for his small cold hand.
It shakes and it ain't strong but there's a core of somethin' like steel, twisted too far, bending, just behind the ragged cry. "Don't touch me, God--" and then it breaks and he bends his head down and can't look at her for a moment, strugglin' for breath, for somethin' even he don't know.
"Don't you ever. I ain't takin' no more, shoulda never. Never took it." Somethin' in his eyes, like he's pleadin' with her t'understand. "Ain't for me, y'know that, y'know I can't take." Th'words, they won't come right. He don't know what he wants to say. Took enough life t'keep him goin' for a while but that don't mean it don't still feel like he been carved up like a turkey.
He settles for "Please." and maybe she'll understand and maybe she won't but he's afraid if she comes t'him again and lays hands on he won't be able t'stop himself.