The sun no longer shines down on humanity. The only light to exist is artificial, and it b l e e d s across the tarmac like false hope and tarnished hypocrisy. Loud shouts accompany the synthetic glow, hopeless cries into the forever night.
He's been running for what feels like years. His legs ache something awful, and he's sure he's covered in blood ( a mixture of both his and someone else's ). Carson got lost in the scuffle, his brother ripped from him like some kind of terrible nightmare. Before the riots, he could have handled this. Before the riots, he didn't have to worry about never finding his brother again.
A building goes up in flames as he slides down the wall. He thinks he's lost them, now, and he's too tired to care if he hasn't. The fire lights the sky, pours smoke towards the stars like prayers. He's never believed in any higher power, but now he's talking to them all.
"Help me," he whispers, voice rough and broken. "Please."
