A door marked "nevermore" that wasn't there before. [ic, closed]

[grizzlyland]

|| The face, the height, the voice, never being able to find his gun--they were getting to him. He realized that he was a lot more on edge than usual. He was spending more time locked up in a room that wasn't really his, than he did outside yelling at people and drinking his beer. Too much could go wrong out there. Too many people could figure

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[badgerbadassus]

[ Much to the state's surprise, he was freed from the bear trap and his arms were released from behind his back in his struggles. The restraints completely disappeared, however he still had to acknowledge this. After a few seconds, he realized he was actually free from that position. Perhaps it was the shock it happened, but he wouldn't waste any time in getting up.

Uncoordinated hands moved on the floor, until he was able to get up on his hands and knees. It didn't hurt as much, but he was still in no condition to fight, there were too many things working against him - most of them his own doing but he would never admit that. Plus, there was the whole issue of bleeding from his face and his legs, even if the injuries were no longer as severe.

Painfully rising to his feet, many thoughts were racing - Wisconsin's stay in Headquarters was not kind to him, due to his terrible luck. It brought out all of his insecurities, the things he never had to deal with otherwise because he was constantly focusing on work. But now he had nothing to concentrate on but the chaos, the idiots who were consumed by loneliness, and seeking out being 'complete' by finding the first person they see to cling onto and rely on.

But he didn't hate Headquarters for that. He hated it because it reminded him of the world outside of his state. It reminded him, he was only one of fifty. He wasn't the worst. He wasn't the best. He wasn't the biggest in any form. He wasn't the smallest either. He wasn't inspiring or tragic, like so many others. And those things he was good at, were pulled from his grasp, without seemingly any effort on their side of the spectrum at all. The rest of them, were all so much more bright, strong, successful, productive, sympathetic, likable, or awe inspiring in appearance or culture without trying. Despite him putting all his effort to make an impact, to make a difference, like it was proved in the past - it could easily be overridden. While there were many who were satisfied with their situation of fading into hollow existence, he wasn't. He couldn't stand it.

That's why he was stupid enough to trust this bastard. This fucking special bastard like everyone else, with the glorious claims he read all the time. He thought he could relate, he enjoyed the drinking, he didn't mind being brushed aside, mocked, yelled at because he thought he cared enough just because when he got shot he was dragged along. For a moment, he believed because he someone to trust enough - he was getting his spark back. That real thing that made him special. The resolve, the perseverance, the willpower to continue his attempts.

But he was the same as the rest of them. The same as him.

This betrayal had ripped the only things that made him stick out. He just didn't have a desire to care anymore about the situation. It was far from the attempt to kill him, but it was the words that landed on his ears that picked up of the disappointment that only existed in his imagination that drove him to this edge. ]