For What It's Worth

[Cactus]

His hands clenched her collar, and grief-stricken, his choked sob filled the air. The rain continued to fall without discrimination all around. It fell upon him, it fell upon the trees and the ground and the nearby houses. It fell upon the body of Camila Cañizares and created a murky reddish puddle of blood and water.

This was unfair.

((Claudeson Bademosi continued from Natural Villain))

Upon leaving the Lake, he had seen one goal upon all others to be his top priority — find a friendly face. Claudeson had been devoid of anyone friendly since leaving the Lake the first time, and his run-in with Tyrell had been anything but amiable. Internal crisis aside, he imagined that talking to anyone was better than spending another moment alone with his thoughts. He had tried to forget what had transpired there, tried to pretend like he'd not pulled the trigger and come close to crossing a threshold that there was no return from.

He'd wandered, for a time, until he'd come to the small village and seen the array of buildings that surrounded it. He hadn't seen a proper way to head until he'd spotted someone in a green shirt making their way carefully towards the largest one. Claudeson had waited until the figure got a bit closer before identifying the student as Morgan — not a friend, nor someone he usually exchanged words with, but they'd had classes together and Claudeson had seen him at Swiftball as he had everyone else. He would do for now.

Claudeson had approached the Commissary building slowly, to avoid being seen or heard when the trenchcoated boy had taken off in the other direction. Of course — another Swiftball entrant, but one of particular note as he'd arrived with Camila, a friend of his. All of that aside, the boy seemed distraught as he left. Something had disturbed him from behind one of the buildings.

So he'd gone to look, saying a prayer as he did.

What a futile gesture that had been.

As soon as he saw the legs lying upon the ground, he'd known and his mind filled with anguish. Crying out, he'd dropped his things and run over to her. This could not be. The Lord would not have allowed someone such as her to be dropped in such a —

Of course it was.

So here he knelt, clutching her collar and crying tears that he hadn't even realized he still had within him.

They had been close, once upon a time. As children, they had met through church, and their families had become intertwined. Their destinies across one another. Claudeson had not only hit it off with Camila, but Martín as well, and when Martín had elected to go to Austin College, he and Camila had celebrated his decision. Faith was so important to the lot of them, and it was a foregone conclusion that they would all devote their lives to Service. Camila was consistently a far more relaxed individual than he was, so whenever he did end up letting his proverbial hair down, it was usually her doing.

All of that, and here she lay, discarded and dead like a pile of trash.

Where was the Lord? Where was he and why was he not taking care of one of his blessed creatures? She'd been shot. Someone had shot her in the stomach. How could they?

How could they?!

Claudeson tried all he could. He shook her, he pleaded with her. He even kissed her on the forehead, her cool skin clammy beneath his lips. Nothing worked. Why had this happened? Where was their protection, where was he? Where was the salvation that they'd all been promised so long ago? Where was Camila now? Why did God turn his back upon them?

God was not listening.

All he could see was darkness, now.

God was not listening.

Camila had required salvation.

God was not listening.

Someone had extinguished her light from the universe.

God was not listening.

He never had, had he?

God was not listening.

God was not listening.

God was not listening.

God was not listening.

God was not listening.

God was not listening.

God was not listening.

God was not liste—

((Claudeson Bademosi continued in Even Jesus got his crown in front of a crowd))