Oh, [ Carver replies softly, the noise of it half muffled against Bear's fur. The dog doesn't fuss or bite at him. Just noses at his arm and lets him cling. He can't look at Harold right now, can barely focus at all. It's like the drowning tests, Carver thinks. That part at the end where the body starts to die and everything goes quiet and still. He almost liked that part when it happened.
Coming back always hurt, though. And he thinks the moment he takes a deep breath and returns to himself fully in this place is the moment he's going to do something unforgivable and scream. He tries to focus on the story instead, the things that Harold's telling him, choosing to tell him. And Carver wishes he could say that shit surprises him, that he had a part of his soul that hadn't gotten ugly and cold to this particular pain years ago, but he doesn't.
People do evil things to each other. He learned that early, in the Army. There's so rarely any justice for any of it.
Carver forces himself to breathe. To listen, and focus on Harold's voice instead of the way his lungs feel like they're burning. ]
cw: torture
Coming back always hurt, though. And he thinks the moment he takes a deep breath and returns to himself fully in this place is the moment he's going to do something unforgivable and scream. He tries to focus on the story instead, the things that Harold's telling him, choosing to tell him. And Carver wishes he could say that shit surprises him, that he had a part of his soul that hadn't gotten ugly and cold to this particular pain years ago, but he doesn't.
People do evil things to each other. He learned that early, in the Army. There's so rarely any justice for any of it.
Carver forces himself to breathe. To listen, and focus on Harold's voice instead of the way his lungs feel like they're burning. ]
What'd you do?