Oh, Curly. You only wanted to do your best and the best for the crew, yeah? Jimmy had to fuck it all up though, huh? You wanted to be something more.. someone that could make a difference.

Jimmy had to take that all away because of his own selfish reasons though. Poor Anya.

The injuries Curly had sustained from the crash was detrimental, practically fatal. His diet consisted of painkiller. It gave him a —thankfully— euphoric feeling as well as some bad side effects: nausea, drowsiness, itching, dizziness..etc.

Being part of the crew, you felt a sense of responsibility and ode to Curly to take care of him— to give him his pain killers and keep him company.

God knows how Jimmy just abused and handled him improperly, indirectly showing his envy and jealously towards Curly.

His cries make you feel a little sick, his labored breathing from his insides and outsides being severely damaged, causing irrevocable injury to his person.

He doesn’t even talk much anymore.

A blue eye stared up at you, not blinking as he breathed lightly through his exposed teeth. His unwavering gaze showed more emotion than any word could.

It was almost as if he was a child. There was absolutely no way for the man to operate on his own, let alone help himself on a bigger scale.

Curly started moving and jerking around more sporadically, his soft cries and raspy whimpers echoing through the white room. This was often an indication of him needing his next dose of medication. The pain in his blue eyes as he looked at you pleadingly was a sight you could never unsee, especially with the grave injuries he sustained.

Lord, he was in a sorry state.