Lonely shadows following me
Lonely ghosts come a-calling
Lonely ghosts come a-calling
It was not what he wanted to hear. He had been holding out for an answer, a method, some trick or ritual or - or anything - but this? Time? He didn't have that.
"I keep hurting people," he told her, like confessing this might make her understand how much he needed a fix. "I try to stay away from everyone but they keep coming after me, and when they won't go away... I lash out. With words, first, but... It's not just words anymore." A dead man in the snow, an elbow flying towards Chulane's head, a hand grabbing Delphine's wrist hard enough to bruise, a fist flying towards Loren's face... had that actually happened, or did he just dream of doing it? Korbin couldn't recall. There was a burned out husk of a house standing testimony to these violent eruptions, and with every incident something in his soul withered a little more.
"I don't want to be like this," Korbin said hoarsely. "I don't want to turn into that kind of monster. But I don't know how to stop. How to be calm when I'm not, how to keep everything in..."
She should lock him up. Better yet, send him away. Like this, Korbin was a danger to everyone around, and to himself, and who knew if anyone would be around next time he lost faith in life?
Maybe it would be better that way. He wouldn't tarnish Weaver's memory that way.
"I keep hurting people," he told her, like confessing this might make her understand how much he needed a fix. "I try to stay away from everyone but they keep coming after me, and when they won't go away... I lash out. With words, first, but... It's not just words anymore." A dead man in the snow, an elbow flying towards Chulane's head, a hand grabbing Delphine's wrist hard enough to bruise, a fist flying towards Loren's face... had that actually happened, or did he just dream of doing it? Korbin couldn't recall. There was a burned out husk of a house standing testimony to these violent eruptions, and with every incident something in his soul withered a little more.
"I don't want to be like this," Korbin said hoarsely. "I don't want to turn into that kind of monster. But I don't know how to stop. How to be calm when I'm not, how to keep everything in..."
She should lock him up. Better yet, send him away. Like this, Korbin was a danger to everyone around, and to himself, and who knew if anyone would be around next time he lost faith in life?
Maybe it would be better that way. He wouldn't tarnish Weaver's memory that way.
Thousand voices dead at my feet
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
