This Love, This Hate: Epilogue
Apr. 28th, 2005 10:38 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsLater that night, Tommy can't sleep...
Tommy tossed and turned as he tried to fall asleep, but images from earlier that night kept rising in his consciousness. Images of standing over a still body, with blood on his hands…mutant blood, but blood all the same. He didn’t regret beating the faggot, in fact the thought still made him smile…it’s the thought that he might have killed the mutie that frightened him. Sure, a dead mutant was a good mutant…just he didn’t want to be the one to do it. Roughing them up a bit maybe, but killing…Tommy didn’t think he would ever be able to that. He just...he couldn't. Not even to a mutant. Or a faggot. But then again, he might have that night…
Biting his lip, he came to the realization that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he found out if the freak’s death was on his hands. With a deep breath, Tommy pulled sneakers onto his bare feet and tossed a sweatshirt over his t-shirt and boxers. As quietly as possible, he made his way through his family’s apartment, down the stairs and out onto the street where there were a bank of pay phones under a streetlight.
He pulled his hood up against the slight nighttime breeze and pulled out a few quarters from the pocket of his sweatshirt. Slipping them in the phone, he picked up the receiver and dialed Terry’s cell phone number. As he heard it ring, Tommy quickly thought up a cover story. What was the name of that mutie rights group? Helix! Right…
Tommy almost wasn’t prepared when he heard a very stressed sounding Terry answer the phone. Taking a quick breath, Tommy made a mental note to change his voice before quickly saying he was a member of Helix who had been at the club that night and had heard rumors of a beating. Without him having to ask, Terry answered that Jay was in their medical center recovering. With a sigh of relief, Tommy thanked her and hung up, resting his head on the dingy payphone. So the freak was recovering…while that was unfortunate, he wasn’t dead like Tommy had feared. He hadn’t murdered anyone…
Tonight.
Shivering more at that thought then at the cool night air, Tommy slowly made his way back inside and up to his bed, where dreams shrouded in red hair awaited him.
Tommy tossed and turned as he tried to fall asleep, but images from earlier that night kept rising in his consciousness. Images of standing over a still body, with blood on his hands…mutant blood, but blood all the same. He didn’t regret beating the faggot, in fact the thought still made him smile…it’s the thought that he might have killed the mutie that frightened him. Sure, a dead mutant was a good mutant…just he didn’t want to be the one to do it. Roughing them up a bit maybe, but killing…Tommy didn’t think he would ever be able to that. He just...he couldn't. Not even to a mutant. Or a faggot. But then again, he might have that night…
Biting his lip, he came to the realization that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he found out if the freak’s death was on his hands. With a deep breath, Tommy pulled sneakers onto his bare feet and tossed a sweatshirt over his t-shirt and boxers. As quietly as possible, he made his way through his family’s apartment, down the stairs and out onto the street where there were a bank of pay phones under a streetlight.
He pulled his hood up against the slight nighttime breeze and pulled out a few quarters from the pocket of his sweatshirt. Slipping them in the phone, he picked up the receiver and dialed Terry’s cell phone number. As he heard it ring, Tommy quickly thought up a cover story. What was the name of that mutie rights group? Helix! Right…
Tommy almost wasn’t prepared when he heard a very stressed sounding Terry answer the phone. Taking a quick breath, Tommy made a mental note to change his voice before quickly saying he was a member of Helix who had been at the club that night and had heard rumors of a beating. Without him having to ask, Terry answered that Jay was in their medical center recovering. With a sigh of relief, Tommy thanked her and hung up, resting his head on the dingy payphone. So the freak was recovering…while that was unfortunate, he wasn’t dead like Tommy had feared. He hadn’t murdered anyone…
Tonight.
Shivering more at that thought then at the cool night air, Tommy slowly made his way back inside and up to his bed, where dreams shrouded in red hair awaited him.
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