Author’s Note: Well, this little forgotten scene is deliciously unsettling. I wonder what I was planning on doing with it? I’m going to put a warning here for… self-harm, maybe? No actually injuries, but it does allude to self-mutilation. Maybe. It looks like I was going to make him into mass-murdering psychopath or a suicide victim. Not sure which one. What do guys you think?
Tears stream down his cheeks in grimy rivulets. They drip soddenly from his nose, his cheeks, splattering the sun-patched ground with each choking sob. His shoulders shake as though with cold, despite the warm rays beating down on him. He can hear a bird singing somewhere nearby.
It would make more sense if it was raining. Somehow, in the terrifying jumble of everything he’s held onto, that single thought is too loud. Too bright. He stares at the glinting sunlight reflecting in his hand. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying anymore, only that there’s nothing left to do. Yeah. Definitely should be raining. That’s the thing, though. You don’t get to choose when your mind finally cracks.
Cracks. That was what had happened. He’d cracked. Finally. Like an egg. A sidewalk.
His lips peel back from his teeth, catching the still-streaming tears in its corners. Peel. That’s the right word, too. His lips peel. Like a banana. Like latex gloves. If he did it just right, he bet skin could do it.
The sobs dissolve into giggles, and his shoulders shake harder.
Powerless. Powerless. Powerless.
For how long has that word beat against his skull, tap-dancing across his brain in some twisted ballet?
The laughter thunders out of him, shattering the bird’s song. Then, it dissolves into giggles again, then to silence. He moves his hand a tiny bit and the sunlight glints again. His smile glints too.
The last of his tears finds its way into a crack in the sidewalk.
Crack. Sidewalk. Cracked.
Like and egg.