Post by THOMAS ARTHUR WEASLEY on Oct 17, 2014 2:38:11 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] [style=background-color:#000202; text-align: justify; font-size: 10px][style=text-align: center][/style][style=text-transform: lowercase; font-family: georgia; letter-spacing: -2px; font-size: 42px; text-align: right; color:#C3926C; font-style: italic; padding-right: 20px; margin-top: -25px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000; position: relative; z-index: 1; margin-bottom: -15px;] IT'S A BAD MAN'S WORLD [/style][style=background-color: #2C2A27; width:502px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; text-align: center; height: 10px;] [/style][/style][style=background-color:#000202; text-align: justify; font-size: 10px][style=font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; padding: 25px; margin-top: -10px; color: CCCCCC;] //was i born as a promise to keep the peace// He managed to make it out the door, but with each step down the hall - where he was going Thomas didn't even know, he just needed to get away - his guts knotted tighter and tighter and his skin grew icy, numb, and damp with cold sweat. Barely halfway down the corridor, past some five-maybe six door, he was already stumbling and losing coordination. Operating almost entirely on instinct, he backed into an open room - mercifully empty of any other persons, doctor or patient. Back against the wall, Thomas' knees finally gave out and he sunk to the ground, knees at his chest, which was heaving as he tried in vain to fight back a panic attack. His mind was racing so fast he could barely pick out whole images or thoughts, but they burned like glowing coals all the same. He was awash of emotion over so much that he couldn't control, so much he felt responsible for and knew that just the tip of the comeuppance had come to bear. Tom stared at his hand; the palm had no feeling, or rather felt like it had been just been removed from submersion in water so freezing it stung. The front side felt the sterile chill that was customary in hospital air, the backside emanated with a low heat that every so often pulsated through his digits. He longed for dizziness that wouldn't come no matter how much he willed it. Passing out, blacking out, would be a welcome relief - even if he feared how his subconscious guilt might twist his dreams. Thomas had been bottling it up inside for too long, hoping it would all just go away if he pretended like it didn't happen. But it did and it wouldn't. He knew he would burst if he didn't talk about it with someone, but that in itself started a ticking countdown to an end that he dreaded worse than when he'd thought he might die. And on top of all that was the fear of facing the disappointment of those close enough to him to be confided in - that was a double-edged sword. Over his shoulder he heard the slight click of the door latch disengaging. He'd been so preoccupied he'd failed to hear the foot traffic in the hall or consider that he might have been seen and followed. Looking up at the familiar face that peered in through the semi-opened door, Thomas felt simultaneously relieved, terrified, and crushed all rolled into one, though it was mostly the first that showed in his expression. The words left his lips muffled and hoarse, barely escaping his swollen and sore throat: "Mom? //or meet the shame?// [/style][/style][style=background-color: #2C2A27; color: #CCCCCC; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 1px; padding: 5px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;]continued from; all too well. words; 448. notes; lyrics: jenny lewis - "bad man's world" ; tag: PATRICIA ELISE WEASLEY [/style][style=font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 10px; font-style: italic; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY LITTLE BITTY PRETTY ONE @ CAUTION 2.0[/style] |