08-19-2018, 11:06 PM
He barely realized when strong hands gripped. He let the rapids carry him away. Jay was so utterly speechless, that only when the door swung open, the sting of bright hall lights knocked him from the coma.
His parents were insane. They knew all along, but convinced themselves otherwise. Did this back country hospital never hear of the sickness? Did they stupidly assume it wouldn't reach their corner of the plains? "Dad! Stop." Jay's hands were stronger, the ridges deeper, the pressure bone-crushing. He clamped down on his dad's forearms to halt the retreat. They thought to throw him out? He was here to save Cayli. There was only one way to do it. If there was time left at all.
He'd forgotten she was there. Until her voice rang like a bell, clear and pure, through the chaos of war.
Both men stopped struggling. Natalie spoke and four grown ass adults fell silent. Her accent felt all the sharper here. Or maybe Jay's was all the blunter. Either way, dad hinged his jaw tight, clearly biting his tongue for the foreigner in their midst.
Mom had tears in her eyes. Doors popped open along the hallway, heads staring out. A nurse paused at the end of the corridor, waiting to see if intervention was necessary.
Jay's heart stopped. She swept between them, literally opening up the space between Jay and dad wringing one another's shirts in violent fists. She addressed neither of them, but the ice in her gaze met his, willing some silent communication that Jay had no idea how to interpret.
His shoulders sank when Natalie approached mom. The tears on her face were ugly and tired. Aged prematurely. Stress and exhaustion. Jay couldn't bear to look at her. His gaze fixed the ceiling instead as an exercise in stillness pricked an old memory.
Jay wasn't the only country-boy who thought himself talented with a target only to find the error of his ways set straight in basic training. Turned out, everything about his shooting was wrong. His stance. His aim. His arms. Muscles too rigid. Shoulders too square. The instructor was quick to see the potential, though. By the end of his time in the marines, he was a special operations rifleman for a reason. But it was one of the first lessons that roared in his mind right now like he was back there, weapon in hand, he heat of discharge on his fingers, and the wafting scent of a spent cartridge on his face.
Count to ten, Carpenter. The weapon is a part of you. As you are, it will be.
Counting was enough to pull him from the brink. Tension remained, but he was in control. Chaos spiraled, but one shredded clutch at control was enough of an anchor to hang on. He didn't even know when he seized the power, realizing it flowed through like a storm crashing the back of his mind. But it simmered down. What threatened to boil eruption was contained. Barely.
He waved at the nurse that the situation was stabilized. Then, a cold shun met those of whom were roused from the rooms by the disturbance. Probably made him look like a dick, but it didn't matter. Stay in control.
His dad tossed his hands, stomping farther down the hall. Mom was convinced, however, and exited the room in exchange for Jay.
He searched the glacial calm of Natalie's presence, but all it did was erode his own. Cayli sat upright now, knees drawn to her chest. It was like Natalie saw straight to everything he wanted to hide, churned the silt settled on the rockbed of his life, and stepped into the murk anyway. Didn't she see that this was insane? Didn't she want to run out of here? She should. He wouldn't stop her.
He scrubbed his hair back on one breath and on the other violently yanked the arms of his sleeves back into place where dad wrenched it askew. Power pushed the door shut even as he came to stand by the bed. Vanders said it first. Nox said it later. Marcus confirmed and the Nine all agreed. To survive the sickness, the person had to take the power consciously. If they only did it once, death was thwarted.
Nox tried it first with Jay when he stared into a fire. Jay could think of no other way but to duplicate the attempt. His voice was calmer than he thought when a small blue flame hissed alive in front of him. Maybe it was the shred of hope that stilled his soul, so he swallowed and began to explain. Cayli gasped.
"Cay. There's a light behind you," he stopped when she looked over her shoulder, and shook his head. How to possibly explain this?
His parents were insane. They knew all along, but convinced themselves otherwise. Did this back country hospital never hear of the sickness? Did they stupidly assume it wouldn't reach their corner of the plains? "Dad! Stop." Jay's hands were stronger, the ridges deeper, the pressure bone-crushing. He clamped down on his dad's forearms to halt the retreat. They thought to throw him out? He was here to save Cayli. There was only one way to do it. If there was time left at all.
He'd forgotten she was there. Until her voice rang like a bell, clear and pure, through the chaos of war.
Both men stopped struggling. Natalie spoke and four grown ass adults fell silent. Her accent felt all the sharper here. Or maybe Jay's was all the blunter. Either way, dad hinged his jaw tight, clearly biting his tongue for the foreigner in their midst.
Mom had tears in her eyes. Doors popped open along the hallway, heads staring out. A nurse paused at the end of the corridor, waiting to see if intervention was necessary.
Jay's heart stopped. She swept between them, literally opening up the space between Jay and dad wringing one another's shirts in violent fists. She addressed neither of them, but the ice in her gaze met his, willing some silent communication that Jay had no idea how to interpret.
His shoulders sank when Natalie approached mom. The tears on her face were ugly and tired. Aged prematurely. Stress and exhaustion. Jay couldn't bear to look at her. His gaze fixed the ceiling instead as an exercise in stillness pricked an old memory.
Jay wasn't the only country-boy who thought himself talented with a target only to find the error of his ways set straight in basic training. Turned out, everything about his shooting was wrong. His stance. His aim. His arms. Muscles too rigid. Shoulders too square. The instructor was quick to see the potential, though. By the end of his time in the marines, he was a special operations rifleman for a reason. But it was one of the first lessons that roared in his mind right now like he was back there, weapon in hand, he heat of discharge on his fingers, and the wafting scent of a spent cartridge on his face.
Count to ten, Carpenter. The weapon is a part of you. As you are, it will be.
Counting was enough to pull him from the brink. Tension remained, but he was in control. Chaos spiraled, but one shredded clutch at control was enough of an anchor to hang on. He didn't even know when he seized the power, realizing it flowed through like a storm crashing the back of his mind. But it simmered down. What threatened to boil eruption was contained. Barely.
He waved at the nurse that the situation was stabilized. Then, a cold shun met those of whom were roused from the rooms by the disturbance. Probably made him look like a dick, but it didn't matter. Stay in control.
His dad tossed his hands, stomping farther down the hall. Mom was convinced, however, and exited the room in exchange for Jay.
He searched the glacial calm of Natalie's presence, but all it did was erode his own. Cayli sat upright now, knees drawn to her chest. It was like Natalie saw straight to everything he wanted to hide, churned the silt settled on the rockbed of his life, and stepped into the murk anyway. Didn't she see that this was insane? Didn't she want to run out of here? She should. He wouldn't stop her.
He scrubbed his hair back on one breath and on the other violently yanked the arms of his sleeves back into place where dad wrenched it askew. Power pushed the door shut even as he came to stand by the bed. Vanders said it first. Nox said it later. Marcus confirmed and the Nine all agreed. To survive the sickness, the person had to take the power consciously. If they only did it once, death was thwarted.
Nox tried it first with Jay when he stared into a fire. Jay could think of no other way but to duplicate the attempt. His voice was calmer than he thought when a small blue flame hissed alive in front of him. Maybe it was the shred of hope that stilled his soul, so he swallowed and began to explain. Cayli gasped.
"Cay. There's a light behind you," he stopped when she looked over her shoulder, and shook his head. How to possibly explain this?
Only darkness shows you the light.