Remorse
It's cold there, and wet. Ripper leans against the wall, letting the damp soak through his singlet to the skin. He nurses his bloody knuckles and tries to stop gasping.
He wishes the wall would swallow him. The words form in his mind, the power crackles just within reach, but it's only a glamour. It won't make him deaf, it won't make him insensible as the dirty bricks he envies.
Randall is there with him, Banquo's ghost in a Sex Pistols tee shirt and the golden curls of a choirboy. Floating. Bloody. Mouth open in the scream only Ripper hears.
It's cold there, and wet. Ripper leans against the wall, letting the damp soak through his singlet to the skin. He nurses his bloody knuckles and tries to stop gasping.
He wishes the wall would swallow him. The words form in his mind, the power crackles just within reach, but it's only a glamour. It won't make him deaf, it won't make him insensible as the dirty bricks he envies.
Randall is there with him, Banquo's ghost in a Sex Pistols tee shirt and the golden curls of a choirboy. Floating. Bloody. Mouth open in the scream only Ripper hears.