wesley and bev
He didn’t usually like to talk about his parents. Either one. His mother had done the best she could to raise him, in spite of his father walking out and leaving them both stranded. He’d always felt guilty as he’d grown up, knowing what a struggle it had been for her to do it all on her own. Wesley hadn’t been a terrible child but he’d been his own special kind of handful. He was glad that she had moved back home where her own family was from but he missed her. He couldn’t imagine how it would have been without her around. Strange how death could unite people who had never met or had anything in common. “I’m sorry.”
Her visions sounded useful, except the idea of having to first watch your friends die in order to save them sounded like a level of trauma that he didn’t want to sign up for. “I watched a friend die here. Well, not here. In New York. Buried him. Now I’ve got nightmares about it. Still.” Wes set the plate of food to the side, his appetite leaving him.
“People got turned into kids? Yikes. I don’t need to go back to being a kid.” He shook his head. “This place is so weird. It’s like it can’t decide whether we’re prisoners or pets. Or maybe we’re just toys for it to play with.”