[ This is what he gets for never shutting up about his sister. ]
I don't know, honestly. [ Alive, but— ] If she's really there... if they're really real, and she's safe and okay, and she's not—dead, like every other girl here is, then I...
[ He has to, doesn't he? Take care of your sister. He has to.
It's just... if he fails—and despite all their getting off track, no culprit's ever walked free—he dies, and his chance dies with him. If they're real, and she isn't dead somehow, then there's still a chance that after all of this is over, he can be with her again.
Provided she also doesn't die before he can. Black feels the tears before they really start, tight in his throat; his hands are shaking a little when he takes his glasses off to press the heels of them to his eyes to stem the flow, teeth grit.
He's fine. He has to be. There's no time for crying anymore, not when he'd spent almost a week quietly moping when no one could see him. ]
I don't know if I could do it, Miss Sigrun. It's even harder now than it was before—if I really wanted to save her, I should've done it the second week we were here, when the incentive about saving people came up. There would be more people to blame it on, we weren't as familiar with each other then either so you'd never know if someone was capable of it or not, but now it's... [ A breath—breathing is important, he really needs to remember that. ] It's hard. I want them to be real because that means White's still alive here—wherever "here" is, or whatever it might be for her—even if she might not be back home.
But I... I hope they're fake, too. If that place is anything like our prison [ because it is what it is ] then the chances of it being just some sick murder game a sadistic freak decided to run are pretty high, and... I'd never wish that on her, not in a million years.
[ Not apart from him, anyway, where he could keep an eye on her and keep her safe. ]
no subject
I don't know, honestly. [ Alive, but— ] If she's really there... if they're really real, and she's safe and okay, and she's not—dead, like every other girl here is, then I...
[ He has to, doesn't he? Take care of your sister. He has to.
It's just... if he fails—and despite all their getting off track, no culprit's ever walked free—he dies, and his chance dies with him. If they're real, and she isn't dead somehow, then there's still a chance that after all of this is over, he can be with her again.
Provided she also doesn't die before he can. Black feels the tears before they really start, tight in his throat; his hands are shaking a little when he takes his glasses off to press the heels of them to his eyes to stem the flow, teeth grit.
He's fine. He has to be. There's no time for crying anymore, not when he'd spent almost a week quietly moping when no one could see him. ]
I don't know if I could do it, Miss Sigrun. It's even harder now than it was before—if I really wanted to save her, I should've done it the second week we were here, when the incentive about saving people came up. There would be more people to blame it on, we weren't as familiar with each other then either so you'd never know if someone was capable of it or not, but now it's... [ A breath—breathing is important, he really needs to remember that. ] It's hard. I want them to be real because that means White's still alive here—wherever "here" is, or whatever it might be for her—even if she might not be back home.
But I... I hope they're fake, too. If that place is anything like our prison [ because it is what it is ] then the chances of it being just some sick murder game a sadistic freak decided to run are pretty high, and... I'd never wish that on her, not in a million years.
[ Not apart from him, anyway, where he could keep an eye on her and keep her safe. ]