Lucas (nohopekid) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-08-16 22:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2012 [08] august, lucas |
WHO: Luke, Marty.
WHAT: Being an emotional hoodlum.
WHERE: Hallways of Sing Sing.
WHEN: August 16th, 10pm.
RATING: Medium. Language-ish.
Luke was flying. The halls sped past like they were nothing -- only imaginary, figments of his imagination, like he dreaming the floorboards and the lights and the voices in their rooms. Luke had pushed the board to such a speed that it was like the wheels didn't exist, and for as awful an idea as it was, this was what he wanted from it. What a stupid, childish fucking hobby, he told himself, grinning into the wind -- but at this speed his thoughts flew by quickly too, so quick that they didn't matter.
It didn't matter that he'd threatened Silas with the baseball bat now dangling loosely in his fist, or that he'd frightened his uncle by leaving the room so early. It didn't matter that the woman had died in front of him, her life ending in a bloom of blood as Luke told a cripple to put his fucking hands up. It didn't matter that he'd accidentally told George he loved her at the wrong time, or that he'd been an asshole to Maddie, or that if someone opened a door now they would probably kill him.
Faster. I can go faster.
But Luke let himself slow instead.
There was a scream in his chest now. He could feel it building, feel it rising into his throat like acid, bile. Instead it came out a whisper, a simple and eloquent "Fuck no."
Fuck everything.
He kicked the board up and into his free hand then, growling deep in his chest. What was even worth doing now? He could sneak into one of those abandoned offices again, set fire in the drawer of a cabinet. Throw shit out a window. Maybe then they'd accuse him of being a psycho too, and someone would bring him dinner in his cell. I just don't care anymore.