The thought of you is always on my mind.
It's like all this time reality's made me blind.
Three days after 'Graduation'
It was raining again. It seemed like it had every day since he'd gotten here. Even a light drizzle was impossible to miss when it crept through the patchwork wooden planks above his head. Who'd lived here before, he wondered? Who had called this small little shack home before he'd stumbled into it bleeding and wounded a few days prior? The furniture was still usable, the walls sturdy... It was just the ceiling that had given way. Maybe they'd come back to fix it. They'd find him here, weak and barely mobile, and put him out of his misery.
It was wishful thinking. Idle questions he thought about to distract himself.
Henk turned onto his side, the damp mattress underneath him creaking to match the groan of pain that radiated through his body as he swung his legs forward sit up. Everywhere except his face, anyways. No, he couldn't even feel that, the lacerations across his mouth and eyes from Kimble's final attack were still numb from the flurry of ice that had skewered him. At least the rain rinsed the blood from his flesh, the mattress, and the floor beneath him.
You're pathetic, you know that?
Henk slowly opened the one eye he could still see out of, looking to the source of the voice he'd heard. Of course, there was nobody. It was a ghost within his own mind. A memory that he clung to for comfort like a child. A memory that had been nagging him since he'd walked away from everything he'd ever known seven days ago. Usually, he'd argue, but...
His eyes fell to the soaked, torn clothes he wore, the charred skin of his arms, and the haphazardly wrapped bandage slung around his shoulder to his neck, a half-assed attempt to save himself in the hopes that fate would give him an out. That whatever gods existed would punish him for turning his back in his weakest moment.
He was pathetic.
"Would you have me go back with my tail between my legs? I deserve to end here. To come back now., as I am... It would be an insult to all of them. They don't need me anymore. Any of them."
Though the voice was in his head, Henk spoke aloud with the scratchy, whisper-quiet voice that the wound to his neck had given him, at least until it had better healed. The taste of blood filled his mouth every time a word passed his lips.
For fuck's sake, Henk. How long are you going to keep feeling bad for yourself? People died. Initiates younger than you lost their lives, and you have the gall to pity yourself?
Henk felt his fists tightening around the wet sheet beneath him, the memory of looking out over a bed of corpses littering the wood fresh and pungent in his mind.
"And I didn't stop it! I couldn't do anything to save them! That's literally all I've ever cared about, being useful to them, being needed by them. Why else would I have done any of this?!"
Still it taunted him, the voice. Its tone absolutely unimpressed even as blood dripped from his lips.
They're still fighting for what they believe in, at least. You're just wishing you'd been the hero. Praying you'll get to be the martyr so you don't have to move forward.
Henk winced, his breath catching in his bleeding throat.
They were right. He knew it was the truth. He was so despondent over 'his' family being torn apart that he didn't pay a thought to anybody else. They'd taken their sides, drawn their battle lines, and gone to lick their wounds before continuing down the path, while he selfishly hid away and cried in a corner like a child.
You reek of desperation. You'll do anything for a little bit of validation and this was your big chance to be number one. Edric, Ralene and Noel... oh especially Noel... they'd just shower you with praise wouldn't they? Quit acting like a needy stray mutt, for the love of god. You're right, they don't need you. You need them, and you always have.
"Shut up!"
It was too much. A loud retching followed his shout, and his frame toppled to the ground as a mix of blood and vomit splattered against the rotting wooden floor underneath him. If he could feel his face, he'd feel the tears pouring down his face, clear droplets dripping into the visceral mixture as he painstakingly pulled himself up by the bed to stand on shaky feet, gritting his teeth and holding his breath.
He fell to the bed once more, legs failing and vision fading to black as exhaustion claimed him once again,
It's like all this time reality's made me blind.
Three days after 'Graduation'
It was raining again. It seemed like it had every day since he'd gotten here. Even a light drizzle was impossible to miss when it crept through the patchwork wooden planks above his head. Who'd lived here before, he wondered? Who had called this small little shack home before he'd stumbled into it bleeding and wounded a few days prior? The furniture was still usable, the walls sturdy... It was just the ceiling that had given way. Maybe they'd come back to fix it. They'd find him here, weak and barely mobile, and put him out of his misery.
It was wishful thinking. Idle questions he thought about to distract himself.
Henk turned onto his side, the damp mattress underneath him creaking to match the groan of pain that radiated through his body as he swung his legs forward sit up. Everywhere except his face, anyways. No, he couldn't even feel that, the lacerations across his mouth and eyes from Kimble's final attack were still numb from the flurry of ice that had skewered him. At least the rain rinsed the blood from his flesh, the mattress, and the floor beneath him.
You're pathetic, you know that?
Henk slowly opened the one eye he could still see out of, looking to the source of the voice he'd heard. Of course, there was nobody. It was a ghost within his own mind. A memory that he clung to for comfort like a child. A memory that had been nagging him since he'd walked away from everything he'd ever known seven days ago. Usually, he'd argue, but...
His eyes fell to the soaked, torn clothes he wore, the charred skin of his arms, and the haphazardly wrapped bandage slung around his shoulder to his neck, a half-assed attempt to save himself in the hopes that fate would give him an out. That whatever gods existed would punish him for turning his back in his weakest moment.
He was pathetic.
"Would you have me go back with my tail between my legs? I deserve to end here. To come back now., as I am... It would be an insult to all of them. They don't need me anymore. Any of them."
Though the voice was in his head, Henk spoke aloud with the scratchy, whisper-quiet voice that the wound to his neck had given him, at least until it had better healed. The taste of blood filled his mouth every time a word passed his lips.
For fuck's sake, Henk. How long are you going to keep feeling bad for yourself? People died. Initiates younger than you lost their lives, and you have the gall to pity yourself?
Henk felt his fists tightening around the wet sheet beneath him, the memory of looking out over a bed of corpses littering the wood fresh and pungent in his mind.
"And I didn't stop it! I couldn't do anything to save them! That's literally all I've ever cared about, being useful to them, being needed by them. Why else would I have done any of this?!"
Still it taunted him, the voice. Its tone absolutely unimpressed even as blood dripped from his lips.
They're still fighting for what they believe in, at least. You're just wishing you'd been the hero. Praying you'll get to be the martyr so you don't have to move forward.
Henk winced, his breath catching in his bleeding throat.
They were right. He knew it was the truth. He was so despondent over 'his' family being torn apart that he didn't pay a thought to anybody else. They'd taken their sides, drawn their battle lines, and gone to lick their wounds before continuing down the path, while he selfishly hid away and cried in a corner like a child.
You reek of desperation. You'll do anything for a little bit of validation and this was your big chance to be number one. Edric, Ralene and Noel... oh especially Noel... they'd just shower you with praise wouldn't they? Quit acting like a needy stray mutt, for the love of god. You're right, they don't need you. You need them, and you always have.
"Shut up!"
It was too much. A loud retching followed his shout, and his frame toppled to the ground as a mix of blood and vomit splattered against the rotting wooden floor underneath him. If he could feel his face, he'd feel the tears pouring down his face, clear droplets dripping into the visceral mixture as he painstakingly pulled himself up by the bed to stand on shaky feet, gritting his teeth and holding his breath.
He fell to the bed once more, legs failing and vision fading to black as exhaustion claimed him once again,
One week after 'Graduation'
As Henk stepped outside of the dilapidated house for the first time in a week, the first thing he noticed was the dryness in the air. It was almost humid enough to make his brow sweat.
The rain had stopped.
His wounds were closed now, fresh red scars adorning his already scarred face, and his right eye a milky pale white. Henk doubted he'd ever see out of that one again, but he could make well enough due with one. The voice had stopped a few days ago. Or to be more accurate, he'd stopped humoring it.
Because that voice had been right, and Henk had already made his choice the moment he saw his own blood pouring from his mouth and onto the floor. All of his friends were fighting, and he'd be an excuse of a classmate if he didn't join them, wouldn't he?
But... Not yet.
There was something he had to do before he could face any of them again.
Where are you going?
Henk turned around to face the faint remnant of the voice that haunted him, calling to him from within the house. It had seemed to authoritative, so deep and booming just days ago. Now it just sounded soft and pathetic.
Henk, did you hear me? Where are you going? Are you running away again?
For the first time since the morning of Graduation, a smile crossed his lips.
"I'm going to go become the Henk they need. Just like you said. Once that's done, I'll be back."
Once that was done, he'd be back. Then he'd help them put an end to this nonsense once and for all.
The voice roared, called him back, and assured him of his failure, but he didn't listen as he traveled toward the rising sun. Somewhere out there he'd find his fire, the same fire in Ralene's eyes. The same fire in Zael's heart. The same fire in Noel's voice. With that fire, he'd burn down any doubts left in his mind, and in the mind of anybody else exactly who he was.
And still, my heart is crushed by longing to be with you.
With these memories, I'll move onwards to something new.
As Henk stepped outside of the dilapidated house for the first time in a week, the first thing he noticed was the dryness in the air. It was almost humid enough to make his brow sweat.
The rain had stopped.
His wounds were closed now, fresh red scars adorning his already scarred face, and his right eye a milky pale white. Henk doubted he'd ever see out of that one again, but he could make well enough due with one. The voice had stopped a few days ago. Or to be more accurate, he'd stopped humoring it.
Because that voice had been right, and Henk had already made his choice the moment he saw his own blood pouring from his mouth and onto the floor. All of his friends were fighting, and he'd be an excuse of a classmate if he didn't join them, wouldn't he?
But... Not yet.
There was something he had to do before he could face any of them again.
Where are you going?
Henk turned around to face the faint remnant of the voice that haunted him, calling to him from within the house. It had seemed to authoritative, so deep and booming just days ago. Now it just sounded soft and pathetic.
Henk, did you hear me? Where are you going? Are you running away again?
For the first time since the morning of Graduation, a smile crossed his lips.
"I'm going to go become the Henk they need. Just like you said. Once that's done, I'll be back."
Once that was done, he'd be back. Then he'd help them put an end to this nonsense once and for all.
The voice roared, called him back, and assured him of his failure, but he didn't listen as he traveled toward the rising sun. Somewhere out there he'd find his fire, the same fire in Ralene's eyes. The same fire in Zael's heart. The same fire in Noel's voice. With that fire, he'd burn down any doubts left in his mind, and in the mind of anybody else exactly who he was.
And still, my heart is crushed by longing to be with you.
With these memories, I'll move onwards to something new.
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