The Elm Street Sleeping Guide
Posted: Mon Mar 29, 2021 2:25 am
[[RJ Blackburn continued from A Time to Build A Time to Destroy]]
News that shocks no one-it fucking sucks to remove glass from your own injuries.
Granted, RJ only had to remove about four bits of glass from his arms-three in the left, one in the right-but having to use the tweezers just to be sure he didn't fuck anything up further, while effective, still meant jostling the glass around just enough that it hurt.
But it was fine. He removed the glass, his arms were bandaged and properly sanitized, he was going to be fine.
His nose was fine too. It wasn't broken, which was good since he didn't want to set it back in place. Just bloody. His shirt was already fucked, at least to the point he would rather burn it than try and salvage it, so he decided to just sacrifice it for his nose. Tilt his head back and keep cloth in his nostrils for long enough and it was dealt with.
RJ wasn't used to wearing a tank top-he always felt the people who wore them actively tried to show off their bodies, and he never exactly had much to show off-but it's not like it really mattered. His sweatshirt hadn't gotten any blood on it, thankfully, so he wore it over the red shirt. It felt comforting.
He'd changed his shorts, too. Into the red swim trunks. He didn't take off his underwear, of course-he was N O T about to show his junk on national TV-and it felt uncomfortable how comfortable they felt. But he at least wanted to salvage some part of his clothing, and it felt generally easier to move around in the swim trunks than the denim, so he changed to the swim trunks.
And okay, maybe he was focusing on physical things at the moment to distract from everything else. That one of his former best friends nearly killed him. That another friend had nearly been killed by said former friend and still sided with him despite it. That he was still responsible for a good friend's death.
But what the fuck else was he supposed to do? He couldn't exactly change what had happened. It wasn't a movie where he could rewind and bring Leo back, or just walk off the set and hug the actor that played Leo. It was real life, and in real life, RJ Blackburn had shot Leonard Kenter, nearly been killed by Anthony Golden, and was left to stew after Pippi Bloodworth had told him to fuck off.
Real life sucked
The sailboat he had taken refuge in wasn't much, but it was enough. Only one entrance, and the built in couch wasn't the most comfy thing to sleep on, but he would take it for now. He had to eat a whole loaf of bread to deal with his hunger, so he didn't have to also sleep on an empty stomach.
One thought drifted through his mind before passing out.
'Just let me sleep and not get nightmares. Please just let it be dreamless.'
[[RJ Blackburn continued in Predator and Prey At Night]]
News that shocks no one-it fucking sucks to remove glass from your own injuries.
Granted, RJ only had to remove about four bits of glass from his arms-three in the left, one in the right-but having to use the tweezers just to be sure he didn't fuck anything up further, while effective, still meant jostling the glass around just enough that it hurt.
But it was fine. He removed the glass, his arms were bandaged and properly sanitized, he was going to be fine.
His nose was fine too. It wasn't broken, which was good since he didn't want to set it back in place. Just bloody. His shirt was already fucked, at least to the point he would rather burn it than try and salvage it, so he decided to just sacrifice it for his nose. Tilt his head back and keep cloth in his nostrils for long enough and it was dealt with.
RJ wasn't used to wearing a tank top-he always felt the people who wore them actively tried to show off their bodies, and he never exactly had much to show off-but it's not like it really mattered. His sweatshirt hadn't gotten any blood on it, thankfully, so he wore it over the red shirt. It felt comforting.
He'd changed his shorts, too. Into the red swim trunks. He didn't take off his underwear, of course-he was N O T about to show his junk on national TV-and it felt uncomfortable how comfortable they felt. But he at least wanted to salvage some part of his clothing, and it felt generally easier to move around in the swim trunks than the denim, so he changed to the swim trunks.
And okay, maybe he was focusing on physical things at the moment to distract from everything else. That one of his former best friends nearly killed him. That another friend had nearly been killed by said former friend and still sided with him despite it. That he was still responsible for a good friend's death.
But what the fuck else was he supposed to do? He couldn't exactly change what had happened. It wasn't a movie where he could rewind and bring Leo back, or just walk off the set and hug the actor that played Leo. It was real life, and in real life, RJ Blackburn had shot Leonard Kenter, nearly been killed by Anthony Golden, and was left to stew after Pippi Bloodworth had told him to fuck off.
Real life sucked
The sailboat he had taken refuge in wasn't much, but it was enough. Only one entrance, and the built in couch wasn't the most comfy thing to sleep on, but he would take it for now. He had to eat a whole loaf of bread to deal with his hunger, so he didn't have to also sleep on an empty stomach.
One thought drifted through his mind before passing out.
'Just let me sleep and not get nightmares. Please just let it be dreamless.'
[[RJ Blackburn continued in Predator and Prey At Night]]