[It’s true. He can’t run. He couldn’t run if he wanted to. Basil looks down over the edge and pictures a step, a fall, a skull cracked open on hard ground and its contents spilling around them like tendrils. But that’s too easy, he thinks. His window isn’t high enough. He wouldn’t inconvenience anyone like that....
[Basil swallows black bile. Is he crying? He can’t tell. His hands are empty and unclean, but he can take it. Kel should be mad at him.]
cw suicide ideation, gory & generally-Not-Okay™ thoughts
[It’s true. He can’t run. He couldn’t run if he wanted to. Basil looks down over the edge and pictures a step, a fall, a skull cracked open on hard ground and its contents spilling around them like tendrils. But that’s too easy, he thinks. His window isn’t high enough. He wouldn’t inconvenience anyone like that....
[Basil swallows black bile. Is he crying? He can’t tell. His hands are empty and unclean, but he can take it. Kel should be mad at him.]
It’s too late.