[He should be terrified. His veins should be bursting with epinephrine, and he should be screaming. Clawing at the leaves as he's dragged into the jaws of whatever counts as hell. Waiting, watching, waiting, watching, and when it comes it sweeps over him like water closing over his head, and his eyes close, and he should be afraid but all he can feel is that drifting sense of solemn, absolute peace.]
[Waiting for an End to come.]
[God, please.]
[Just waiting for it to finally be over.]
[It isn't.]
[He wakes blearily, his hair and his clothes matted with mud and tangled with twigs and leaves. The soft shape of the doll is still cushioned in his pocket, and as Tim rolls onto his back, his chest seizes with the rough spatter of rough coughs that leave him gagging on his own blood and vomit.]
[Whatever the hell just happened, it doesn't matter what he tells anyone.] [(He won't tell anyone.)]
no subject
[He should be terrified. His veins should be bursting with epinephrine, and he should be screaming. Clawing at the leaves as he's dragged into the jaws of whatever counts as hell. Waiting, watching, waiting, watching, and when it comes it sweeps over him like water closing over his head, and his eyes close, and he should be afraid but all he can feel is that drifting sense of solemn, absolute peace.]
[Waiting for an End to come.]
[God, please.]
[Just waiting for it to finally be over.]
[It isn't.]
[He wakes blearily, his hair and his clothes matted with mud and tangled with twigs and leaves. The soft shape of the doll is still cushioned in his pocket, and as Tim rolls onto his back, his chest seizes with the rough spatter of rough coughs that leave him gagging on his own blood and vomit.]
[Whatever the hell just happened, it doesn't matter what he tells anyone.]
[(He won't tell anyone.)]
[Everything is fine.]