Bleed - A Prison Break One-Shot Fanfic
So. I came up with a quick one-shot which I am absolutely in love with (that's a first) during physics. PLEASE REVIEW. Because concrit is love, always and forever.
Title: Bleed
Author:
modernxxmyth
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 346
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters/Pairing: Michael, mentions of MiSa
Warnings: Dark Fic
Spoilers: General season 3.
Summary: Michael's reaction to the death of his beloved.
Bleed
Lincoln tells him things, the fence dividing them. Life dividing them. He tells him things. Things about his love. His Sara. Decapitation. Such an ugly word, he scoffs, nothing like her beauty. Denial hits first, of course, just as the textbooks say (and his old psychiatrist he remembers from another life). But denial only lasts for so long. He can’t stop thinking of the decapitation. (Oh, such desperation.)
Anger comes on next, of course. Full-on fury and uncontrollable rage. Such a beautiful woman, his love, cut down so quickly. And at his own fault. The words ring through his head, If he’d never gotten her involved in this…His thoughts are the same as they always have been, but now with much more (Once more! With meaning!).
The rage, of course, continues, as he walks away from his brother (What a betrayal, he thinks. What has happened to our faith? A voice inside, It’s never really been there.)
Oh, and this rage lasts for the longest of times - but time has no real meaning anymore. He likes to think it’s been a few days.
He finds himself in a cell - he doesn’t know who’s - his fists attacking a wall.
And it hurts just as good as the first time. But the blood from his fists this time around feels so much better. He’s not crazy, you know. (They like to say he is, of course.) He’s not crazy. You know. He just likes the feel as his fist meets the wall. (Somehow the notion reminds him of her.)
Do you remember when she tended to the wounds on your fist in the SHU? (His mind is talking to him again.) The flashing memories hurt, hurt so bad, but it’s not good like the crimson dropping from his hands. (This wall is rough, he thinks in passing.)
What will stop the images - haunting memories - he wonders. Maybe morphine. He laughs. A distant, hollow sound, sucked from his throat. His laughter sounds far away from him.
He laughs.
He laughs until he cries.
(His fists are still bleeding.)