“Nothing's felt real to me for a very long time."
Psychology Sentences, Vol. 8 || Always accepting
@malxfide, thank you for sending it in!
For a little while -- or for an eternity, he couldn't quite tell -- there was only the void. Darkness so deep all it was, was empty.
A flash of light. There had been a massive flash of light, blinding. Pain, too. It all scrambled together in the black hole that was his mind... And then--
Then he took in a breath. Wheezing, pained. But he was alive, he suddenly realised. And as he forced his eyes open, it all suddenly clicked back in place together. It all made sense again. He remembered what happened. Or at least enough to understand why he was laying on the ground, in a puddle of his own blood -- he thought it was his own blood at least...
He'd been shot. He'd been fucking shot. Point blank. In the goddamn head. He had always been incredibly lucky when it came to avoiding lethal blows, but even his luck couldn't save him from that.
... Why was he alive? It should have blown his brains out...?
But try as he might, he couldn't remember much else than the blast of the gun, the ringing in his ears... Momentary pain and then... Then light -- overbearing light, a ray of it piercing the skies -- before it all turned into darkness.
He blinked out of his jumbled thoughts, when he abruptly realised he wasn't alone. There was a man there, and what he said drew him back to the moment at hand, rather than what led to it.
He gave a pained, croaky groan, before he managed to find his voice, squinting at the guy. "... Wha--?" He coughed a little, shaking his head and attempting to sit up, only to freeze up when he managed.
There were-- a lot of things to see. To say the least.
There were a lot of scorch marks around them. Like something had just exploded. Even more worryingly, some of them were painting the shape of wings in negative space around him. Numerous wings. What the hell--? And was that-- were those bodies? Bodies of his assailants maybe? Burnt to a crisp? So deeply blackened their features were forever lost...?
But he felt even worse when he realised it all seemed to come from him. Like he was the one who had fucking exploded.
He turned his attention back on the other person there, thankfully looking alive and un-burnt. He had to, even if this was a complete stranger, lest he give into the rising panic that was trying to take over the shock. This could not be happening, and if he didn't think about it, maybe he could keep on believing it didn't happen.
"W- wha' d'you mean it's... Nothin's felt real to you for a while... You mean- All that's feelin'--" a helpless snort left him before he could stop himself. "All this is- feelin' real to you, now?" He glanced at the wing-like marks again. Fuck, he thought he might be sick.
"'cause it's-- It's not feelin' real for me at all.. It- It's can't be real--"