12th of Spring, 522 A.V. It wasn’t even bliss draining that bottle. Just the briefest of respites before another hunger came clawing its way up from within him. Scratching at the edge of his consciousness until he acknowledged it at which point it became a want. No, a strong desire for, a need to sate this new craving before it rendered him senseless. Standing in the dark near the door to the room he shared with Faye, Cleon was briefly in control of his actions, but he could feel that slipping away no matter how tightly he tried to grasp it. He watched her slight shadow in the bed for a moment longer before he pushed out into the hallway, and hastily closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a long moment while he contemplated what he was going to do. His right hand was in his trouser pocket, thumbing the edge of his razor till he felt a slight sting that offered a moment of escape and reality swinging in around him. He was alone for now, and he used that to take account of himself. Of the line of dark sweat down the middle of his gray shirt that hung loosely off of his skeletal frame. Not long from now, he’d be covered in another thin sheen of sweat that was not brought on by the heat but by these needs that were never far from his mind now. He squeezed the razor more tightly between thumb and forefinger, feeling it give slightly as pain blossomed up from his thumb to radiate across his hand. A dark stain started to form around the edge of his trouser pocket. Cleon clenched his teeth. This was no way to live. He wouldn’t be like THEM. The razor came out of his pocket then, a dull rusted slip of metal with crimson dripping off the edge and working its way into the bone handle into which the metal was set. Delicately, he wiped away what he could quickly then wrapped a dirty strip of cloth around it, then tucked it into the waistband of his trousers. His thumb had been worked across with a nasty curving cut from ball to base and he stuck it into his mouth, sucking on it briefly as he started to hastily walk down the hallway. His mouth was quickly filling with a familiar metallic taste that soured somewhat with his illness and it was all he could do to keep from retching until he stumbled to the railing of the main deck where he leaned over the side and emptied his guts. When he was done, and through the fit of coughing that always followed, he leaned against the wood for a moment before he let himself fall down onto his knees and fold against the wall. He felt completely empty, not just physically but emotionally as these needs strained him to his limits. He needed to find a way beyond this, but ignoring it simply wasn’t doing the trick, and entertaining it felt just as damning. Cleon clenched his fists together and bit the knuckle of his index finger as he suppressed a scream of frustration while he rocked slightly back and forth on his haunches. PETCH! How was he even supposed to get drugs here, and why was he wanted them now!? SHITE. SHITE. SHITE. It brought it all back, flooding back the memories, the sensations, the pain, the depression, the rage, oh the sweet, beautiful futile rage that gnawed at him day and night for years in that dreadful house. His pulse thundered in his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn’t help, only brought the images flooding in. FATHER. MOTHER. The siblings he left behind. He remembered keenly the smoky smell of his father, and could almost feel a wisp of warm breath on the back of his neck as his skin crawled. NO! NO! NO! Cleon pounded the deck with his fist, then went still as he realized he was very much not alone while wanting to be desperate. His eye opened a crack to see the deck deserted for now and they followed along so he was looking through the slats of the railing at the jungle beyond. He thought about going out there and letting himself get consumed by some jungle beast, but that was weakness would be like submitting to the family he despised. His mind wandered from there to the brief peaceful respite he had experienced in that bottle, but that craving had been met for now, and there were more pressing issues at hand. Ones he had yet found a way to solve or alleviate till he thought back on the healer he took Faye too. He might have something tucked away in that building of his, enough at least to take the edge off. It wouldn’t be so simple if he had a lock for Cleon was without his tools, but who was to say he wouldn’t be lucky tonight. He got up to his feet, steadied himself on the rail, then hesitated. Was he really going to do this? Risk all they had here so he could feel a little less pain, and maybe, just maybe get some sleep? Would they punish Faye for his actions? Cleon shook his head. What kind of question was that, of course, they would, but only if he got caught. A part of himself that he hated desperately clung to that notion above all others, and it only took him a moment longer to steel his resolve before he swung his legs up over the railing and let himself drop onto the beach below. From there he started walking roughly in the direction of where he knew the commons to be while doing his best to keep near to the shadows along the way. WC - 977 |