Sam
I am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam
And no one in his right mind would make my home his home
"Death is not the end..." Sam repeated quietly, the phrase standing out to him in some way; he looked down at his wrists, thoughts he'd imagined stored away resurfacing for just a moment. If he'd wanted to, he could have argued that he wasn't able to choose for himself, as the family had made it clear he was a part of this or an outcast, but trying to argue with the Voice was pointless; he'd never been good at expressing himself anyway.
He nodded at the reminder of his straying, how she had allowed it. Again, there were things he could say, about how there had not really been a choice, how he had immediately been sick, known he was going to die...but what was the point? A heavy sense of hopelessness settled into him, but he didn't let it show; just smiled and nodded.
"Okay. Thank you. I'll try my best."
Fin
He nodded at the reminder of his straying, how she had allowed it. Again, there were things he could say, about how there had not really been a choice, how he had immediately been sick, known he was going to die...but what was the point? A heavy sense of hopelessness settled into him, but he didn't let it show; just smiled and nodded.
"Okay. Thank you. I'll try my best."
Fin
When I try to open up to you I get completely lost
Houses swallowed by the earth, windows thick with frost
