an update?

Rain pellets hit the window pane, making a clatter through the whole of room. You're sitting ontop of the bed, crosslegged staring aimlessly into the darkness. The face glitters in the darkness, reflecting the moonlight splayed into the potrait of the room. It's hands slowly moving, making a clicking sound, irritating and twisting nerves you never knew you had. The face tells you something, plaguing you with responsibilities and flowing the feel of dread and fatigue.

The face tells you it's one in the morning.

"Damn it"

You exhale, feeling faint, it's been a while. Your eyes burn in their sockets, daringly pleading you to drop into the comforting quilt and sink into that welcoming pillow, so near you; within your grasp. But you dare not.

Exhausted your brain's just about to break down, no, you won't. You can't.

You do.

The rebel in you forces you to rest, to hold you captive helpless to the wilies of a the monster of the night. As your head falls to the soft landing fitting your heart races and stops entirely at the same moment, sending you to the realm of unconciousness.

You fall asleep.

Ensnared you feel the breath in your lungs rush out, as your met with the scene that has been playing through your brain all day, like a broken record. The words reverberate through the air, twisting your throat, the slaps of curt answers pierced the air and you feel your blood freeze.

The sight infront of your eyes, you can't forget; you doubt you ever will.

The strangled figure of courage on the floor, it's blood imprinted to the wall of your mind. Charred is your concience as you hear words that should not be uttered, accusations raised to the air and chartered through you by calculative figures, shaded glasses, tightened strings of anger.

You stand for what you believe in, rigidly repeating, trying to stope the battle raging on. A fighter, they said, you were always a fighter, always trying to find an advantage for tactical resevere.

The problem is, you notice, being a fighter, you can't handle this. The feeling inside you, gripping you to the core. Staring and absorbing the view presented, the mangled gasp struggling through your bruised lips, yearning to stop the senselessness of the situation.

Shackled to weakness, you can't do anything; you're helpless. You hate being helpless, and that is what you are, powerless against the rushing stream of clenched fists and boneless features.

Nothing in this world, has felt this bad, not kicks nor punches could beat this feeling of pure terror, overwhelming you.

Eyes glued to the brutality towards that sole voice that you've heard so many times; joked with.

You urge it to stop, the the violence to the voice, to fucking put a cork in. But no, it repeats, and you fall.

'Holy crap', you think, as you see the structure fall beyond rails of safety.

Breath hitches, as contradicting natures of thoughts clash as you dash at the sign of life, at the edge. Seemingly stumbling steps meet your beaten legs, and in the middle, a hole holding so much more. Behind the barrel, a face you've known for a while, that perhaps you've trusted just a bit, and you thank god for your nature.

They bring you to the red scene, painted with agony, where an armless and faceless spot of life twitched to live. You do what you can, you help just a bit, to redeem, to apologize. Shadows surround you, but you see an inkling of light; perhaps a shade of faith and hope.

But it quickly dissipates, as reality guts you, shadows will engulf them as they did to you; fully dismantling bravery through numerous ways of darkness.

'Go,' screams bravery.

Justice was never just, but the shot ran through your spine, as the aim was true. Unappeased, again blurred shots of misconception twice punctures the head of courage. Skidded blood skewed your hearing, as it was impaired by an explosion of fragmented pale pieces befell on you.

Red is the last thing you see, blue turning to red; a harsh image. Laughter and screams intertwining in between each loop; weaving into your memory. The clinks of fallen bullets and twisted bones burned to mind. Horror-strcken, gaunt-like eyes, staring at you, haunting you every second.

You wake up screaming, sweating cold sweat, heart beating faster than before.

You tell yourself it's just a dream, but a little voice whispers it might happen.

Fear takes it's toll, and you dare not wink at all.

The fighter in you, fights the demons to bay, and you sit up and stare again, feeling helpless. Stars above making sure you have company as thoughts and images of that fated horror.

That night, you do not sleep at all.