[ He has to move, Carver thinks, feeling sick. He has to move or he's going to fucking die. It feels like he's swallowed glass, that it's stuck in his chest and he's bleeding out inside. Already dying.
God knows his sin. Certainly Pope does, too.
Carver rocks on his heels. And then he is pacing, like a goddamn crazy person. Back and forth, back and forth, in front of Harold Finch, who's probably going to run for the hills in a second. Anyone would. ]
I'm a good soldier, [ Carver hisses, almost pleading. ] I did everything he asked.
[ He can't breathe. He's going to die. Pope's going to burn him, Carver thinks bleakly, and he curls his hand into a fist and hits himself in the head as hard as he can.
And for a moment, for a single brutal moment, the world goes still and quiet. It's almost peaceful. ]
cw: self harm
God knows his sin. Certainly Pope does, too.
Carver rocks on his heels. And then he is pacing, like a goddamn crazy person. Back and forth, back and forth, in front of Harold Finch, who's probably going to run for the hills in a second. Anyone would. ]
I'm a good soldier, [ Carver hisses, almost pleading. ] I did everything he asked.
[ He can't breathe. He's going to die. Pope's going to burn him, Carver thinks bleakly, and he curls his hand into a fist and hits himself in the head as hard as he can.
And for a moment, for a single brutal moment, the world goes still and quiet. It's almost peaceful. ]