FicWad

We lost him.
Ghoul.
We lost him.

Me, Poison, and Jet Star - we all tried to save him.
We tried.
He'd killed his first. His first blood.
It shook him. Right to his core. We were all so very proud but being the youngest and most mentally fragile of the group, he could barely handle it. If only he could have just caused one more bloodshed. But he couldn't muster enough will to force his finger against the trigger.
We killed the bastard. The exterminator, of course - not Ghoul, no. We threw the bastard off a cliff and let the buzzards get to him. We gave Ghoul a proper burial. Piled his body high on rocks in the desert plains, kissed his forehead and set him alight. Just to make sure the fuckers couldn't bring him back to bite us. We know what they're capable of.

Poison isn't right, any more. Loss of spirit - all of us, of course. Loss of soul? Poison. He's hollow, he's empty. Something is missing and we all know exactly what, but that is simply a hole that we can't fill. He's tried filling it, thrown his life in the line, ran unarmed into the hands of Exterminators and still managed to escape with the clothes on his back. Simply because he doesn't care anymore.

At night time he creeps from his makeshift bed and crawls into mine. He thinks I don't know, he thinks I'm asleep - but of course I know. He's so god damn loud I couldn't not know.

He's going a little bit insane.

I've seen him chatting. Chattering mindlessly in the direction of nothing. Marking his skin marker pens, a line a day. Hanging his head low and driving the trans am dangerously close to the cliff ledge.

I knew that one day, after running and keeping our heads low, driving for our lives and singing till we're sore, I'd rest my head, and he'd never curl beside me. Never eat stolen Bli/nd food in the morning, never sing to our own tracks in the summer sun, never relax in the high desert hills and watch the dusty sun set.

I suppose I'll have to wait for that day.
God knows it'll be sooner than I'm hoping.

Save Yourself.