He thinks of the condemned in their cells across the courtyard, curled in on themselves and oblivious to the passing of time. Safe if only for now, hidden away in an untouchable world that exists only for them. Fear is a strange paralytic, in the end.
The boy is drifting in front of his eyes.
Why, he couldn't explain if asked. Perhaps it's because he feels like he's wandered into a liminal space where actions don't necessarily have consequence. Perhaps it's that part of him believes he must be imagining all of this— the secret chamber with the secret prisoner, the terror in the night that only he can hear. But he reaches out a hand and a thought, and the air the boy is about to tumble through becomes an emptiness his exhausted body can lean on.
no subject
He thinks of the condemned in their cells across the courtyard, curled in on themselves and oblivious to the passing of time. Safe if only for now, hidden away in an untouchable world that exists only for them. Fear is a strange paralytic, in the end.
The boy is drifting in front of his eyes.
Why, he couldn't explain if asked. Perhaps it's because he feels like he's wandered into a liminal space where actions don't necessarily have consequence. Perhaps it's that part of him believes he must be imagining all of this— the secret chamber with the secret prisoner, the terror in the night that only he can hear. But he reaches out a hand and a thought, and the air the boy is about to tumble through becomes an emptiness his exhausted body can lean on.
"Even me."