#16 -- Hearing Someone They Hate is Deadtheun4givablesSeptember 30 2015, 13:59:41 UTC
Jazz blinked as Amelia walked inside the Council room, her jaw set and her shoulders thrown back. "Is there something wrong, Ms. Samson?" he asked, raising an eyebrow
( ... )
#16 -- Hearing Someone They Hate is Dead pt 2theun4givablesSeptember 30 2015, 14:00:16 UTC
With that, he kept walking. Once he knew he was out of sight, he let his shoulders slump, just a little. His mind turned over the last time he had seen his mother; the anger in her eyes and the sting of her nails as they dug into his arms. Jazz bit his lip and shook his head, slipping inside his living quarters without so much as making a sound.
He leaned against the door, looking out over the living room, his eyes barely registering the sight of his glass coffee table or the lush couch. Instead, his eyes filled with tears and he threw his head back against the door, a strangled sob escaping him.
He was on the floor in seconds, one knee tucked close to his chest as he collapsed in on himself, his arms wrapping around his bag and holding it close to him. His mother. Dead.
#2 -- Watching Someone They Care About Dietheun4givablesSeptember 30 2015, 14:41:50 UTC
He knew he was too late the moment he pushed through their apartment door.
One single text, two words: I'm sorry. He received it while in class; he had never excused himself so quickly, had never made it home from school that fast, before. And yet, the second he pushed that door open, he knew.
The ambulance hadn't even arrived, yet. He beat it, and as he shouted Chris's name, he received no answers.
He stood in Chris's cramped bedroom, his hands flying to his face as his eyes landed on Chris's body lying on the floor. Blood stained the carpet, growing darker as Jazz found himself unable to move.
Minutes. He had gotten here in minutes. And with sirens screaming just outside their building, he rushed over to Chris, kneeling in the soaked carpet and pressing his forehead to Chris's. His fingers searched for a sign of a pulse despite not knowing what to look for; his ears listened for any sign of breath though he couldn't hear anything over his own sobs.
"I'm sorry," he whined as the paramedics found him. "I'm sorry..."
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With that, he kept walking. Once he knew he was out of sight, he let his shoulders slump, just a little. His mind turned over the last time he had seen his mother; the anger in her eyes and the sting of her nails as they dug into his arms. Jazz bit his lip and shook his head, slipping inside his living quarters without so much as making a sound.
He leaned against the door, looking out over the living room, his eyes barely registering the sight of his glass coffee table or the lush couch. Instead, his eyes filled with tears and he threw his head back against the door, a strangled sob escaping him.
He was on the floor in seconds, one knee tucked close to his chest as he collapsed in on himself, his arms wrapping around his bag and holding it close to him. His mother. Dead.
They’d never be able to reconcile, now.
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I need to make coherent comments on things later but ow ow.
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One single text, two words: I'm sorry. He received it while in class; he had never excused himself so quickly, had never made it home from school that fast, before. And yet, the second he pushed that door open, he knew.
The ambulance hadn't even arrived, yet. He beat it, and as he shouted Chris's name, he received no answers.
He stood in Chris's cramped bedroom, his hands flying to his face as his eyes landed on Chris's body lying on the floor. Blood stained the carpet, growing darker as Jazz found himself unable to move.
Minutes. He had gotten here in minutes. And with sirens screaming just outside their building, he rushed over to Chris, kneeling in the soaked carpet and pressing his forehead to Chris's. His fingers searched for a sign of a pulse despite not knowing what to look for; his ears listened for any sign of breath though he couldn't hear anything over his own sobs.
"I'm sorry," he whined as the paramedics found him. "I'm sorry..."
Reply
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