[ the white noise fills the gaps, wearing his mask allows conversations from the murmur to run their course. various voices run together, they speak with excitement, fear, desperation, and soleum forces himself to accept what comes. it's so loud, he hates the way they invade his mind, and yet he won't remove his mask. no matter how much it hurts him, how much it makes living unbearable.
is he even deserving to live after his mistakes?
he doesn't mind it. falling asleep in this small car that doesn't have much, all there is are notes on the ground inked in blood and leftover shadows. he can't deny it, he is contaminated, no matter how many times he tries to forget... his body reminds him, the shadows around him in the car never lets him forget. he doesn't want to lose himself to this, his existence is already questionable... does kim soleum really exist?
somehow the thought makes him feel sick, turning onto his hands and knees, soleum rolls down the window to allow the cool breeze to slip into his living space. his suit is covered in blood that he's yet to remove, it's a reminder of what he's done wrong, because had soleum played his cards right.
neither of them would have had to suffer.
...
he tilts his head outside the car, exhaling, the buzz of the murmur still creeping through the mask. it's not long that he can hear the crunch of snow underfoot, someone nearby, but he believes that whoever it is will pass. what point is there to stop and look in his direction, aren't they all suffering and in the same predicament? ]
— january early week three
is he even deserving to live after his mistakes?
he doesn't mind it. falling asleep in this small car that doesn't have much, all there is are notes on the ground inked in blood and leftover shadows. he can't deny it, he is contaminated, no matter how many times he tries to forget... his body reminds him, the shadows around him in the car never lets him forget. he doesn't want to lose himself to this, his existence is already questionable... does kim soleum really exist?
somehow the thought makes him feel sick, turning onto his hands and knees, soleum rolls down the window to allow the cool breeze to slip into his living space. his suit is covered in blood that he's yet to remove, it's a reminder of what he's done wrong, because had soleum played his cards right.
neither of them would have had to suffer.
...
he tilts his head outside the car, exhaling, the buzz of the murmur still creeping through the mask. it's not long that he can hear the crunch of snow underfoot, someone nearby, but he believes that whoever it is will pass. what point is there to stop and look in his direction, aren't they all suffering and in the same predicament? ]