[ The sight of that scar chills him to the bone. It's old, and his mind's whirling, trying to figure out if someone could survive a wound like that - if they got immediate attention, maybe, slim to none - when Walter speaks again. The words, the meaning of them, seem to make the whole world screech to a horrible stop.
And so are you. ]
No, I'm - [ He's still wet. He remembers the bathtub, the freezing water, his father's blurry outline and hands on his shoulders, holding him down. He remembers choking, trying to fight back, get his head above water. He remembers his lungs hurting, the rush of water when he finally tried to breathe, remembers the black encroaching at the edges of his vision.
His head hurts. So does his throat, lungs, chest. He's cold, and he doesn't know when he fell back against the wall for support, when his fingers curled tight enough in his hair to threaten pulling strands out, only that he's somehow there now. ]
I'm not. I'm not dead.
[ There's not as much conviction in his voice as he'd like there to be. ]
no subject
And so are you. ]
No, I'm - [ He's still wet. He remembers the bathtub, the freezing water, his father's blurry outline and hands on his shoulders, holding him down. He remembers choking, trying to fight back, get his head above water. He remembers his lungs hurting, the rush of water when he finally tried to breathe, remembers the black encroaching at the edges of his vision.
His head hurts. So does his throat, lungs, chest. He's cold, and he doesn't know when he fell back against the wall for support, when his fingers curled tight enough in his hair to threaten pulling strands out, only that he's somehow there now. ]
I'm not. I'm not dead.
[ There's not as much conviction in his voice as he'd like there to be. ]