KORBIN
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
To make you bow and spit it out?
His pace slowed, grew hesitant. Korbin staggered under words he didn't want to hear, ideas he didn't want to consider. The power in refusing was sweet. The belief that he meant nothing to anyone was firm, even when the actions of so many screamed of a dichotomy, of a flaw in the logic somewhere. Unless they really did keep him alive out of spite... Korbin wouldn't put it past them. He probably deserved it.
The shuddering breath sounded choked, insufficient. Far too shallow to do any real good, and the next one came quicker, fainter. The tremble of his hands spread through the limbs until he had to stop, had to stagger off to lean against a house wall so as not to fall.
He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to be that monster, but if he accepted her logic as truth then... then he would be stuck here. Left well and truly without a way out, without Weaver, left to drown in this awful maelstrom of unspent love and loss and pain for years on end. A whole life of it, never ending, with only more piling up on top.
It was too much. Too overwhelming, more than his starved, haggard body could take, more than his fraying mind could endure. The anger disappeared in the despair that washed over him, and as the rising panic made his knees cave, Korbin slowly skidded down on the cold ground. It was freezing, but the cold didn't reach him.
A monster, or condemned to drown for a lifetime? What a choice to make. Why were pain and darkness his only options?
"Stop," he whispered, cracking, fracturing - he had never been strong - "Please, just... go away."
The shuddering breath sounded choked, insufficient. Far too shallow to do any real good, and the next one came quicker, fainter. The tremble of his hands spread through the limbs until he had to stop, had to stagger off to lean against a house wall so as not to fall.
He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to be that monster, but if he accepted her logic as truth then... then he would be stuck here. Left well and truly without a way out, without Weaver, left to drown in this awful maelstrom of unspent love and loss and pain for years on end. A whole life of it, never ending, with only more piling up on top.
It was too much. Too overwhelming, more than his starved, haggard body could take, more than his fraying mind could endure. The anger disappeared in the despair that washed over him, and as the rising panic made his knees cave, Korbin slowly skidded down on the cold ground. It was freezing, but the cold didn't reach him.
A monster, or condemned to drown for a lifetime? What a choice to make. Why were pain and darkness his only options?
"Stop," he whispered, cracking, fracturing - he had never been strong - "Please, just... go away."
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
