REWORKED
PFP CR: pieerat on X
« weak. »
The lab barely looks recognizable anymore.
The gears, metal plates and tools are all over the room, paperworks torn into small pieces, another failed crystal laying somewhere in the corner of the room, broken, shattered into pieces. He is sitting in the corner of his room, a red, almost pink path of liquid is marked over the spot where he crawled to the corner he is currently in. His hands are covered in blood - his face is scratched so much it actually bleeds.
He doesnt know what is wrong with him. He was perfect. He is perfect. But right now, the rot hits his brain too hard.
He doesnt know what to do. He cant create anything - nothing new comes to his mind. He was the best - but what is wrong with him now?
He pushes off the wall and finally gets on his feet - even though everything hurts and it feels like his body is getting stinged by hundreds of needlles - he doesnt care.
He almost falls again, but manages to keep his balance for a minute. His leg finally bends and he takes a step to a broken bot on the floor - to a failure. To a something he will never become. He is sure. He is sure he wont.
He takes another step forward, almost falling forward but catching himself again. His fainting hand slowly reaches for a gear on the table - the gear slips out of his hand, only getting messed up in the red liquid of his.
He tries again.
The gear meets the floor.
" Why.. What the.. "
Subspace coughs - and another cry leaves him
" Pathetic! Pathetic! Pathetic!!!- "
He slams his palm against the table - not hard, but it takes all his strength in that motion. His hand reaching and taking off his gas mask in a quick move, he holds the strips for a few seconds, the mask dangling on his finger before the mask meets the floor with a dull thud. The red liquid almost pours out of the shape of his mask - he doesnt care anymore.
Then - he finally loses it. His knees stop holding him - he falls to the ground, managing to sit no the cold floor. Tears finally come out his only alive eye. His lungs hurt to the sobs, but he cant hold them back. He is pathetic. He is a failure. He tries his best to hide it, but he cant - he is completely, utterly alone.
Or so he thinks.
knock knock
His breath hitches, his head quickly snapping to the source of the sound - door of the lab.
Then another knock. Softer now. Almost comforting - the word he doesnt know meaning of.
The shame and pride always come first - they hide the pain like they are used to this. The humiliation burns deeper than the rot.
" Go away! " He screams, voice breaking "I said go away! Just leave me! Just- "
He coughs again, not able to continue, his hand slapping the cold floor to hold himself back from collapsing.
He knows one thing.
He is not a failure. Not weak.
He is worse.
Pathetic.