[fingers feel like claws; he wants to tear and scratch and punch, not fucking text, and the phone is the next thing in the room subject to violence, thrown so hard against the closet it splinters wood]
[those claws rake into haystack hair, scratching up dry sweat; it's not helping, nothing's helping, he's only 14 and he wants to fucking kill that one-eyed corpse fuck and rip his throat out so he can't laugh at him anymore and he's]
[he's getting bad again, like when his head was all full of dark gunk and crusted blood (it feels like fever again, but it's not, is it? it's infection)]
Re: text;
[those claws rake into haystack hair, scratching up dry sweat; it's not helping, nothing's helping, he's only 14 and he wants to fucking kill that one-eyed corpse fuck and rip his throat out so he can't laugh at him anymore and he's]
[he's getting bad again, like when his head was all full of dark gunk and crusted blood (it feels like fever again, but it's not, is it? it's infection)]