[the sharp noise of the phone going off is just another sound he can barely hear outside the blood pounding in his head (in his wrists, in his fucking throat, he's feeling like one big fucking pulse)]
[but the light in the dark room is invasive, like pointing a flashlight underneath a yanked up log (he'd tried to go to the dark, to the cold, just like that fucking asshole had said he would), and Badou scatters appropriately]
[there's no more window to pull up (and finally; context to the violence, to the jaw-like scrapes going all the way up to the boy's elbow, like he'd shoved it into the mouth of some fucking beast), and he's climbing down the gutter as he already has so many times before in a matter of moments]
[if fresh air were what he needed, he'd be fine out here, under the moon (it isn't)]
Re: a call
[but the light in the dark room is invasive, like pointing a flashlight underneath a yanked up log (he'd tried to go to the dark, to the cold, just like that fucking asshole had said he would), and Badou scatters appropriately]
[there's no more window to pull up (and finally; context to the violence, to the jaw-like scrapes going all the way up to the boy's elbow, like he'd shoved it into the mouth of some fucking beast), and he's climbing down the gutter as he already has so many times before in a matter of moments]
[if fresh air were what he needed, he'd be fine out here, under the moon (it isn't)]