[ Carver watches Gold, then nods just once. Sometimes there’s satisfaction in making another person feel good. Sometimes it quiets the noise in his head. Slows him down long enough to remember how it feels to breath and exist at a slower tempo. Not often, but sometimes. He doesn’t like giving up control, knows he was riding the edge of panic last time with the razor - strange and sick, and murmuring the names of the dead like a prayer - but in the aftermath, things went slow.
And pieces of that felt good. He thought about it for a long time afterward. He’s thinking about it now. ]
no subject
And pieces of that felt good. He thought about it for a long time afterward. He’s thinking about it now. ]
Then do it.