OX/3

[Un-Persona†]

((Rutherford "R.J." Roger Jr.: B032 -V5- Continued From Ya Gotta Make That Play))

Shit. His chest really hurt at this time, only a little bit before midnight. Not only hadn't R.J. stopped running to remove the glass shards from his chest, he was still running. Not his brightest idea. He was a base thief with asthma, not a sub-par marathon runner. There wasn't any reason for him to be still running either. He checked back to see if anything was behind him. Okay, so now for sure there was no reason to be running. His legs began to give out on him and his feet were stumbling.

"Aaaaaghfuckinshitdammit.............."

R.J. couldn't even exasperate all this pain strongly at this point. His body had automatically launched itself against a large structure, forcing him to rest. A rope tickled his nose, and he sneezed. He didn't know why there was a rope, but it must have led to higher ground. That was probably safer then lying on the ground in a forest. His arms were still listening, even if a bit more then his legs. Picking himself up as he climbed, R.J's legs barely agreed to hiking up on the structure to help rise the rest of the body.

"Movemovemovemovemovemove"

He crawled on to the top of the tower. He laid on his back, and would have fallen asleep if the sharp pain in his chest wasn't a thing. Unzipping his hoodie, R.J. saw some of the larger pieces of glass stick out, cutting slits into his Chicago Cubs shirt.

"Aw...Santo..."

Lifting the shirt off of him, R.J. could see that some blood had trickled down to the halfway point of his torso.  Some of it had dried, but a new coat was slowly making sure it didn't look old. At first, he tried to brush off the shards, thinking that they would go away just like grass burs. Not so. In fact, they cut him up inside when he touched them, and he realized they were wedged in far. He grabbed the piece that stuck out the least, and let it scrawl on his insides as he pulled the jagged glass out. It was as wide as his eye and bit longer then half of his thumb and painted red. It hurt, but he knew a lot of people had gone through worse on this place. He considered himself damn lucky when the second piece came out, a bit skinnier but lengthier then the first one, even when blood squirked out when he finished. He thought of whether it'd be safer to leave some of the pieces in, but he pulled the other shards out anyway.

Fucking Gangles. Though R.J. could admit it was his fault as well. He was so angry...though for Gangles to just charge him...R.J couldn't make out what to think about it. Now he felt comfortable resting, but there was some things he had to do to be careful. He grabbed the antiseptic wipes, gauze, and dressing tape from the first aid kit. After he felt the sting on his still leaking wounds from the wipes, R.J. applied the gauze around his chest so as to cover the spread out cuts, and fastened the gauze in tape to make it stable. He breathed in and out, deep and steady, to make sure he had the tape tight enough around his chest.

Now he could sleep. Well, he wanted to. But the old trick of him closing his eyes and being tired wasn't working like it use to. His body was numb and groggy, but his thoughts were fidgety and full of nervousness. He put on his jacket and shoved his bag, which now had his ripped shirt in it, to the side of the tower to use as a pillow. R.J. stared out into nothing, letting his thoughts do whatever they wanted. Not like he needed his mind at the moment anyway, there was nature stuff to ignore. Like the bugs passing his ear, the much too bright stars and moon, the hustle and rustle of the trees and bushes.

He balled himself and hugged his knees, now lying on his side. Would there be animals here? Maybe it was just a snake making all that noise? Whatever it was, R.J. just hoped they hadn't seen his head poking out. Maybe it was just a cat following him? He hadn't seen any cats and doubted there was any significant wild life that weren't reptiles or bugs of some kind. Still, it'd be nice if the rustling noises was just the wind, or anything not with thumbs. A snake would be fine actually, but God save him from something with functioning thumbs.

R.J. was reminded, he hadn't said some good night prayers in the past few days. No one was around to remind him each night before he went to sleep. What to pray for in this situation...friends obviously. Ashamedly, R.J. was never the best at remembering many prayers through and through. Although, he did figure God was more the type to like a card made in art class then store bought. Still, R.J. felt he should study some prayers more often for next time. He caressed his head  as he sat on his knees and did his best to gather his thoughts. Can't fumble with a prayer now. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together.

"Dear Lord, in these times, I remember all you have done for me in my past times of need and all you have done for my family and friends, so that I may return the favor willingly with grace and kindness. I offer up my melancholy, my anger, and my despair, and ask for you to give my friends the opposite of those. And may I ask that I enter into suffering in way of those who should not bear it, less it cause me even greater misery then seeing my beloved hurt. And may I ask that I gain knowledge from that suffering, so I may spread what I have learned to my fellow man and help them as you have helped me. Amen."

...

For once, R.J. breathed a sigh of relaxation. The prayer was honest, and with it came some relief. Maybe everybody else would be all right for a time. He still couldn't sleep though. That was fine. His soul and body were at some peace, and he liked that. So he laid back down and let his blue eyes stare into the much too bright stars, and let the feeling of being content stroll on.

((Rutherford "R.J." Roger Jr.: B032 -V5- Continued In I'll be Their Bogeyman))