It's every childhood horror. It's everything that clamped tight and iron around little lungs and little throats, and you can't get up to go to the bathroom because it's under the bed.
She's crying and screaming and she can't move and she's so scared, so scared and she didn't mean to wet her pants, she didn't, she tried to be brave but she can't, she can't, she wants to go home now so bad and have cookies with Mommy and and and--
The orderly chuckles.
"Don't worry, I will. She'll be glad to hear it. You might say: Gray, life is gray, cold is her heart since you went away - "
The sharp tang of snow in the air, but the orderly is laughing that wonderful laugh, infectious, merry, bubbling -
- gurgling -
- liquid.
He turns around, and it's not cranberry juice at all, seeping down from between his lips and over his chin, down into a dark mess in the (dead) centre of his chest.
He points an accusatory finger.
"Gabriel," he says wetly, in a tone of mild surprise. "You're bleeding."
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The orderly chuckles.
"Don't worry, I will. She'll be glad to hear it. You might say: Gray, life is gray, cold is her heart since you went away - "
The sharp tang of snow in the air, but the orderly is laughing that wonderful laugh, infectious, merry, bubbling -
- gurgling -
- liquid.
He turns around, and it's not cranberry juice at all, seeping down from between his lips and over his chin, down into a dark mess in the (dead) centre of his chest.
He points an accusatory finger.
"Gabriel," he says wetly, in a tone of mild surprise. "You're bleeding."