Adam
My body is a temple
But I don't believe in God
So knock it down and build me something new
But I don't believe in God
So knock it down and build me something new
Adam was so wrapped up in his memory he didn't notice Amalia's discomfort and relief, but she didn't need to worry - he had always been unable to take the step into cruelty and death that so many thieves and rascals did. There was something in him that wanted to be all the rebel he could be, but not to cause any real harm, like the characters he read about as a child.
He noticed her truly again when she moved closer and put an arm around him; if it were anyone else, if he were sober or more guarded, he would have shrugged the comfort off, but in this moment he leaned closer to her and tried to control his tears so he could continue to speak. He had to get it all out in one go, or he would never tell her the last part.
"So uh..he woke up, and I don't think he recognised me or anything, but he wasn't happy about me being there, obviously." A weak chuckle marked this as a poor attempt at a joke. "He's an old guy so I thought it was fine, I'd win the fight and get out, but then he called the guards, and they were really fucking big..." He'd been completely out of luck. A scrappy, undernourished 17 year old against three trained soldiers.
The next part was the hardest of all. His fingers went to trace along the scars on his chin, two of which reached up to his lips. "...They threw me out the window. Which maybe wouldn't be too bad, but he had...this uh...grate thing? With spikes. And I caught my neck like.." He spread his fingers and ran them up the length of his scars, mimicking the cold steel cutting immediately through flesh and showing bone. "I got uh...stuck...there, for a bit. It um...it.." His breath hitched and he couldn't go any further, not about those hours spent staring at the sky and sure he was dead. "It wasn't good."
