Can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreatheohgodIvanbreathe! His scarf was too tight, his limbs were shaking, his cheeks permanently stained with moisture. He couldn't cry anymore. If another tea came out of his eyes, it would be crimson.
"E-Eonya! Мnye zhal, mnye zhal! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I never should've picked on you when were little! I-I'm sorry I broke your fingers, I'm sorry I intimidated you! J-just come back to me! I don't want to be alone...!"
"NO!" Remy had never spoken during one of the videos. She'd barely even spoken afterward. She knew she couldn't stop it, and yelling at the screen wouldn't change it. But when she saw Peter's name....
After that, she couldn't look away. Whatever mercy had been with her, and allowed her not to see Toris' murder had fled, and now her eyes were glued to the screen. Helpless whimpers of 'no' and 'Not Peter' escaping her while the murderer fought with his roommate.
It wasn't possible. Sweet Peter... Kind, loyal, goofy Peter. Her big brother....
Thera turned to the girl beside her. Watched almost dazedly as Remy's entire body shook with heaves of sorrow. This was not the quiet tears she had been crying the entire time. These were full blown, tearful screams of protest. Debilitating tears that wracked her small frame and scraped her throat raw.
Arms wrapped around the girl. Like she had Yao just hours before. Hours before when Yao had cried for his brother's death.
Thera had been so certain their turn had come. So certain. She'd sat quietly all night in that dingy room, contemplating what death would be like. How it would be delivered. What hell was like.
She held Remy tighter.
The words she had given to Yao wouldn't come again. Not the melodic 'shh shh' or the murmurs of 'stay strong'. Yao had been strong and he'd died for it. How could she say the same to Remy?
Why had she agreed? Because, no matter what Ivan said, no one else could have thought those two...right?
So why couldn't she fucking cry?!
She didn't know how long she stood there, staring at the door to Peter's room, where his body was. "I-I remember holding him when he was a baby, cutest little thing you'd ever see. I remember the first time he walked towards me...how he use to think I was a boy even when Arthur tried to explain the truth, still calls...called me Mac or Beth whenever he really wanted my attention..." She paused, looking around before laughing.
Bitterly, desperately, madly.
"Oh you bastards must be disappointed." She said, pointing at the camera in the room, "Maybe it was because I never lied to him, said I'd get us all out of here so I can't feel guilt about that. If it had been Remy? Wasn't sure how much I'd cry if it was her, haven't actually known her that long, maybe a year now? But Peter, oh Peter I've known him his entirely life, terrified his husband just to make sure he wouldn
( ... )
Sindre felt almost sick. He had almost forgotten the blond was even in the game. Yes, Sindre saw his name on every poll, but...even from the few times he had met the younger man, he could tell that Peter was supposed to be energetic, loud, attention grabbing.
He had been none of that during the stay. So really how could Sindre be at fault...
Because he was trying to rationalize why he wasn't. Trying to rationalize why he hadn't reached out to the boy his brother called son. There was no reason and again he hadn't done anything, not what was needed, and...
How was he supposed to go back and tell Berwald he let his son die?
Comments 6
She blinked.
"Peter and Yao..." she whispered. Shook her head. "Peter and Yao? Peter and Yao?! How? Why? What- Who- Why?"
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"E-Eonya! Мnye zhal, mnye zhal! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I never should've picked on you when were little! I-I'm sorry I broke your fingers, I'm sorry I intimidated you! J-just come back to me! I don't want to be alone...!"
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Remy had never spoken during one of the videos. She'd barely even spoken afterward. She knew she couldn't stop it, and yelling at the screen wouldn't change it.
But when she saw Peter's name....
After that, she couldn't look away. Whatever mercy had been with her, and allowed her not to see Toris' murder had fled, and now her eyes were glued to the screen. Helpless whimpers of 'no' and 'Not Peter' escaping her while the murderer fought with his roommate.
It wasn't possible. Sweet Peter... Kind, loyal, goofy Peter. Her big brother....
And then it was his turn.
Gone were the silent tears from yesterday.
She sobbed.
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Thera turned to the girl beside her. Watched almost dazedly as Remy's entire body shook with heaves of sorrow. This was not the quiet tears she had been crying the entire time. These were full blown, tearful screams of protest. Debilitating tears that wracked her small frame and scraped her throat raw.
Arms wrapped around the girl. Like she had Yao just hours before. Hours before when Yao had cried for his brother's death.
Thera had been so certain their turn had come. So certain. She'd sat quietly all night in that dingy room, contemplating what death would be like. How it would be delivered. What hell was like.
She held Remy tighter.
The words she had given to Yao wouldn't come again. Not the melodic 'shh shh' or the murmurs of 'stay strong'. Yao had been strong and he'd died for it. How could she say the same to Remy?
Instead, they cried together.
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Why had she agreed? Because, no matter what Ivan said, no one else could have thought those two...right?
So why couldn't she fucking cry?!
She didn't know how long she stood there, staring at the door to Peter's room, where his body was. "I-I remember holding him when he was a baby, cutest little thing you'd ever see. I remember the first time he walked towards me...how he use to think I was a boy even when Arthur tried to explain the truth, still calls...called me Mac or Beth whenever he really wanted my attention..." She paused, looking around before laughing.
Bitterly, desperately, madly.
"Oh you bastards must be disappointed." She said, pointing at the camera in the room, "Maybe it was because I never lied to him, said I'd get us all out of here so I can't feel guilt about that. If it had been Remy? Wasn't sure how much I'd cry if it was her, haven't actually known her that long, maybe a year now? But Peter, oh Peter I've known him his entirely life, terrified his husband just to make sure he wouldn ( ... )
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Peter.
Sindre felt almost sick. He had almost forgotten the blond was even in the game. Yes, Sindre saw his name on every poll, but...even from the few times he had met the younger man, he could tell that Peter was supposed to be energetic, loud, attention grabbing.
He had been none of that during the stay. So really how could Sindre be at fault...
Because he was trying to rationalize why he wasn't. Trying to rationalize why he hadn't reached out to the boy his brother called son. There was no reason and again he hadn't done anything, not what was needed, and...
How was he supposed to go back and tell Berwald he let his son die?
Reply
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