[ It helps, Carver thinks, that Harold's never wavered with his rules. That there's some consistency there, even if Carver couldn't believe it at first and maybe still doesn't.
There are rules. Praise God.
Bear whines and lets go of Carver's wrist, nosing at him. Demanding attention. Carver curls his hand into a fist, tapping it against his skull. Remembering the clarity of the blow. Remembering, too, what it feels like to drown.
Absolution always hurts at the beginning. That's why it's pure. He doesn't know what it feels like to save someone's life, though. He never has.
The silence stretches out. Then: ]
I don't want to hurt you, sir, [ he admits, very softly. This is a sin too. ]
no subject
There are rules. Praise God.
Bear whines and lets go of Carver's wrist, nosing at him. Demanding attention. Carver curls his hand into a fist, tapping it against his skull. Remembering the clarity of the blow. Remembering, too, what it feels like to drown.
Absolution always hurts at the beginning. That's why it's pure. He doesn't know what it feels like to save someone's life, though. He never has.
The silence stretches out. Then: ]
I don't want to hurt you, sir, [ he admits, very softly. This is a sin too. ]