[ The screams reach him faintly on the wind. At first, Rhy thinks it's just in his own head again, those whispers in the back of his consciousness that tell him he deserves this, that pull at his guilt and insecurities, unraveling him from himself the longer he's trapped in here.
Fuck you.
That part is clear enough.
The rest--
Rhy lifts his head, tentatively listening, trying to hear beyond the roar of the waves and the wind, the moans of the dead real or imagined. He's losing his mind. And if he's losing his mind, what else is there to lose?
The wind brings echoes of sobs, waves sloshing between ragged gasps, as if he's listening to someone desperately crying from beyond a thick wall. It takes Rhy a few seconds to make absolutely certain it's not him. ]
Hello?
[ Eventually, he pushes himself up from the gray, damp sand onto his feet, and shouts out to the ocean. ]
no subject
Fuck you.
That part is clear enough.
The rest--
Rhy lifts his head, tentatively listening, trying to hear beyond the roar of the waves and the wind, the moans of the dead real or imagined. He's losing his mind. And if he's losing his mind, what else is there to lose?
The wind brings echoes of sobs, waves sloshing between ragged gasps, as if he's listening to someone desperately crying from beyond a thick wall. It takes Rhy a few seconds to make absolutely certain it's not him. ]
Hello?
[ Eventually, he pushes himself up from the gray, damp sand onto his feet, and shouts out to the ocean. ]
Is somebody there?