[ The way she says what she says makes him feel bile in the back of his throat. His shoulders tense, his jaw clenches. Affliction. That's a terrible way of putting it. But he feels absolutely no inclination in talking to her, any of them. He didn't talk to his friends back home about it - out of fear, which he will never admit out loud, only in the dark hours of the long nights, fear of rejection and abandonment - and facing this reality all by himself suits him fine.
Obviously, the fact that he does not consider any of them a part of himself, something he rejects as hard as he rejects the σ-virus.
The pertinent question, however, does leave a cold running down his stomach. He swallows dryly, the soft pulsing of the puncture wound in his arm seems to sting hotter. ]
no subject
Obviously, the fact that he does not consider any of them a part of himself, something he rejects as hard as he rejects the σ-virus.
The pertinent question, however, does leave a cold running down his stomach. He swallows dryly, the soft pulsing of the puncture wound in his arm seems to sting hotter. ]
The same thing everyone does.
[ Put a bullet in his head. ]