[ The feelings wash over him, extending from his chilling hand up through his body as though the despair were a physical malady taking hold of him. He watches himself stand there, unmoving.
And then, he watches himself stop.
And try to slam his hand through the window.
He has no intention of sacrificing everyone else to reach his objective. If he has lost everything, then there is no harm in losing himself— dirtied as he is; broken as he is; he might sink into the mud and be forgotten. But he will not be forgotten here, when there are footsteps out there. He had found a resolve, had he not, in his memories? To, even as he is, not stop until he had reached the point he had tried everything.
He hasn't abused his body to breaking yet. He has to do at least that much, before he stops. Then, they can look at his shattered corpse and regret their actions, that they would bring him so low. He has no idea who "they" is, but the spite is a warm ember through the cold. ]
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And then, he watches himself stop.
And try to slam his hand through the window.
He has no intention of sacrificing everyone else to reach his objective. If he has lost everything, then there is no harm in losing himself— dirtied as he is; broken as he is; he might sink into the mud and be forgotten. But he will not be forgotten here, when there are footsteps out there. He had found a resolve, had he not, in his memories? To, even as he is, not stop until he had reached the point he had tried everything.
He hasn't abused his body to breaking yet. He has to do at least that much, before he stops. Then, they can look at his shattered corpse and regret their actions, that they would bring him so low. He has no idea who "they" is, but the spite is a warm ember through the cold. ]