r e s t l e s s

you don't know what you've got till' it's...

[nursewallace-blog]

"No, no, I didn't throw it at you, I swear. What? I didn't! Would you tell him I didn't?"

[nursewallace-blog]

[ If rain could kill it was aiming for Ethan, cool drops pouring down his cheeks and pelting at him like bullets from gun. He'd lost track of where he'd gotten to, the streets of the Fringe all nameless and shapeless to him --  a night like this made this place even more terrifying. Everything terrified him though and it was obvious a man in his state should not be out in the pouring rain when everyone was safe and sound in their beds, when the wilder ones came out to play and to hunt and people like him just got in the way. He stumbled this way and that, slipping on puddles, vision blurred with the clear drops clinging on rigidly to his eyelashes. The world spun around him and he could feel an incredible sense of falling, his stomach flipping over as he plummeted despite his feet planted firmly on the ground. He always felt this way after; his anger cooling down into something more desperate, something cold where he had been previously so fired up.

He tried so hard to control it but moods and behaviours came so indiscriminately that even he couldn't keep up. Every move from him was unpredictable and he knew people grew tired of it. Truthfully, he wore even himself out, his moods jumping from one end of the spectrum to another so frequently that no one bothered to calm him down anymore, they just let him tire himself out with his rampages or his hyperactivity. He didn't blame them. He would not bother with a boy like him either.

He could hear sounds all around him but the streets were empty, wandering around in one of the quieter parts of the fringe, he threw himself down on the ground, back against the wall as he tried to orientate just where in the world he had found himself. Even with the anger subsiding to slumber in the back of his mind, Ethan couldn't seem to calm himself down no matter how hard he tried. Techniques had come and gone, medicines and calmers all wasted on him. He hated it, the cold unpredictability of his mind, the lack of control -- how was he to protect his family when he could barely retrain his own actions? ] "Stupid, stupid, stupid." [ He mumbled, palm hitting against his forehead with each word. He knew what it meant more than anything to hate oneself. Staring out into the rain, he counted down from one hundred, hopelessly praying his hands might stop shaking, or perhaps he would escape the urge to hurt, break, smash something. ]

[leepace]