Evan Marchand (bitterlyimmune) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-06-07 17:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2012 [06] june, elliot, evan, leah |
WHO: Evan and Elliot, eventually Leah
WHAT: The fearless leader has a panic attack.
WHERE: Starting off in Guard Tower 2.
WHEN: 06/06/19, evening – 06/07/19, afternoon
RATING: Medium for language.
STATUS: In progress.
Today hadn't been a good day. Evan had woken up with a migraine, and the group of five women at his door, unhappy with their accommodations since their return from the government facility hadn't helped matters either. Finding them comfortable rooms had taken far, far too long and they still seemed less that grateful when he finally found them rooms in the building Rae and Elliot were in. Took you long enough, one woman had said, some leader.
That was hard to hear, especially with how Evan's past few weeks had been.
It's tough to be king, Harlow's words rang about in his head like a bell, and he couldn't help but worry if people actually saw him like that. Like a tyrant. Or some kind of monster. There were people who didn't, but the fact that Harlow could say that, the fact that the thought crossed his mind, led him to believe that maybe some out there did think that. He frowned as he stepped into guard tower two and looked around.
It was fairly quiet, which was good. It lended him a chance to collect his thoughts, try and sort everything through.
Pulling in a deep breath, he wandered over to the window and glanced out at the bay. Just a little while away from everything. That was what he needed. He thought so, anyway.
But how could he sort this out? What was there to sort, even? This was his fault. Not even three months in and the whole compound seemed to be falling apart. And it wasn't just the fact that some of the people he'd entrusted in leadership roles were talking attempted murder on those just trying to escape the city, though that was part of it. People were fighting with people that they were supposed to hold dear, their trip back into the city to save some of those they'd left behind had backfired and, on his watch, a government crew had come in and practically torn the place apart, taking two of their most beloved residents in their wake. That whole week, and maybe a further back than even that, all of the blame had been cast on Evan's shoulders.
Death threats were never pleasant to listen to, and when those transcended you and fell upon your family, it was cause for concern. George's concussion weighed heavily on his mind, as did the fact that he barely had any time to see her while she was in the infirmary recovering from said concussion.
Mr. Hamish had told him that he was easy to blame, even though it wasn't his fault. That people needed a scapegoat, and he was the easiest one because he was in the seat of power around here. But he wasn't the only one. He knew that the blame was spread through the rest of the people he'd chosen as leaders, but that wasn't what he'd wanted either.
Two months, and your peaceful paradise is already crumbling. I guess the honeymoon's really over, isn't it? he asked himself, shaking his head and looking down.
Normally, this would be where he turned to Leah, Elliot or Charlie. But they each had their plates full. Leah had Marigold back and Charlie had her friend's daughter. And Elliot... not only was he dealing with his own issues revolving around Rae's return, but he relied far too much on the other man already. He doesn't want to be in a leadership role. So stop making him.
But that left Evan alone. And that was probably not the best way for him to be anymore.
None of his decisions seemed to be "good" anymore. None of the things he did for people seemed to be "right." He wanted to create a safe home for people wanting to get away from the government and they weren't happy with it. He wanted to help people he cared about with answers to their questions and problems, but they never seemed to be right. He wanted to get Leah's daughter back, and it seemed like she was angry at him for it. He wanted to be there for Danny, and he hated him for it. It felt like, in the past month, he'd lost everything.
I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe? he asked himself, one hand tugging on his shirt like it was constricting him and the other finding the table beneath his hand and gripping it like it was a a life preserver and he was sinking. Why couldn't he breathe? And why did his legs feel weak all of a sudden?
He reached for his phone to text Elliot... Leah... someone... ask them to come and get him, but he didn't even get into his contacts before his knees gave out and his phone went crashing to the floor.
Shit, no... he thought, trying desperately to pull in a deep breath, but failing.
The last thought he had before his consciousness faded, was the wonder if anyone would find him up here. The wonder if anyone would notice he was gone...