He curled his fingers into a fist and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, trying to fight back another wave of nausea as it hit him. It, like so much else this evening, seemed to be an exercise in futility, however, and he pulled his hand away, moving it to the wall for support, and was violently physically ill. He didn't stop until there was nothing left in his stomach to rid himself of, and when he finished, he stared down at the sick red smear on the pavement for a long time, swiping his fingers over his mouth and trying to catch his breath, before finally turning back to her. He couldn't quite bring himself to look at her, however.
"I think ... " Pausing, he shook his head, then started his head, ashamed but willing to own up to what he'd done. Or what he'd been forced to do. "I know where John is. He's -- I've -- I think he's dying."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2010-11-12 03:39 am (UTC)He curled his fingers into a fist and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, trying to fight back another wave of nausea as it hit him. It, like so much else this evening, seemed to be an exercise in futility, however, and he pulled his hand away, moving it to the wall for support, and was violently physically ill. He didn't stop until there was nothing left in his stomach to rid himself of, and when he finished, he stared down at the sick red smear on the pavement for a long time, swiping his fingers over his mouth and trying to catch his breath, before finally turning back to her. He couldn't quite bring himself to look at her, however.
"I think ... " Pausing, he shook his head, then started his head, ashamed but willing to own up to what he'd done. Or what he'd been forced to do. "I know where John is. He's -- I've -- I think he's dying."