ĸayden (worthsomething) wrote in wtnvic, @ 2018-07-07 16:37:00 |
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Tanner was talking to him. Tanner was talking to him but that was insane because Tanner couldn't be here. Tanner couldn't be here because Tanner was dead and it was his fault. Kayden knew it was his fault. He wasn't stupid, no matter what the others might think. He could have saved Tanner. He could have stopped him from throwing his fucking life away in that cave. He'd had the bomb he'd made and if he'd just been less of a coward and used it, he could have killed the zombies and kept his friends safe. But he hadn't and Tanner had died. It should have been him. He'd come back to the mountain in the first place because he'd wanted to die. Ever since that first year, his life had been a trash fire and he couldn't keep doing it. The only reason he hadn't offed himself was because his friends needed him. That and spite. But then Tanner had died and he'd barely kept it together. the girls had needed him to keep them safe. They'd all been so fucking broken and he hadn't had an alternative. And then, in the aftermath, he'd just been too fucking tired. Too stuck in the drugs and the hallucinations and Tanner shouting at him that it was all his fault. Like he didn't fucking know that. The first year, after the mountain, he'd tried to be a person. After the second trip, he hadn't bothered. He knew what he was now, a pathetic disaster who didn't deserve anything good. He and Sat had fallen apart and now he had nothing. Before, at least, he'd had her. But with Tanner gone, they couldn't stop tearing each other apart. He'd told her, one night when things had gotten really bad, that the wrong person had died in the cave. She'd been angry enough, or drunk enough, that she'd agreed. That was who they were now, people who tore at one another and hurt each other. He hated it. And now he was in this fucked up place and Tanner wouldn't stop talking to him and Tanner was dead so he should just fucking shut up. Kayden's hands shook as he sat against the wall of the building he'd collapsed against, the drugs he'd taken making everything numb and quieter. Leaving him with just his own thoughts. Not that it was much better. His thoughts were terrible most of the time. He flicked his pocket knife open and closed. He could just end it now. It would be easier. It would be so fucking simple to just put an end to everything. To stop being such a fucking burden to the people in his life. To make everything quiet for fucking once. He held the point of the knife against his wrist and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It would be so fucking easy. |