Re: death/violence.
Hunter woke up to tearing dry sobs that were trying to wrench out of his chest whole without the air required. His mouth was dry and his head was spinning and he did everything he could to keep his stomach down while he hauled over into the driver's side. Most of the people seemed to have moved on, scared that he might be on something strong enough to make him dangerous, and the dog was practically climbing his lap in terror and anxiety. Yanking the passenger door shut behind her, Hunter shoved a shaking hand against the wheel and tried to get a grip long enough to start the truck. It screamed, stuttered, and roared into life, and Hunter pulled out of the lot, still crying, still trying to see, hoping that he could get somewhere where he could curl up and try to be himself. Even if it was just for a second.