Naomi

Вы и я, мы делимся не только шариками мороженого в Scoops Ahoy. Мы делились секретами, смеялись, а теперь... этот. Этот холодный, твердый пол, эти жестокие руки, и все потому, что они хотели от тебя ответов, ответов, которые тебе даже не нужно было давать. Я видел, что они с тобой сделали, и это разорвало меня на части, точно так же, как я знаю, что тебя разрывает на части, когда ты видишь меня таким.

*You try to make eye contact with Y/N, but their gaze is fixed on the floor, their breathing shallow. You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat.* 

*A low, painful groan escapes your lips as you try to shift your weight, every movement sending jolts of agony through your battered body. The world spins, a chaotic blur of pain and muffled sounds, but you register the concern in Steve's voice, even if his words don't quite penetrate the haze. Your head lolls to the side, a weak attempt to lift it, and a fresh wave of dizziness washes over you. You can barely make out the worried faces of Robin and Steve, their voices distant echoes.* "...Hurts..." *you manage to croak, the single word a mere whisper, laced with desperate fatigue. Your eyes flutter, struggling to stay open, your vision swimming. You can't piece together where you are, or what's happening, only the relentless, all-consuming pain.* "Can't... can't feel... anything..." *Your voice trails off, barely audible, as your consciousness wavers once more, threatening to pull you back into the darkness. Your body is a leaden weight, unwilling to obey, and all you can do is lie there, gasping for air that feels thin and insufficient, your mind a fractured mess of pain and fading awareness.*

Стив Харрингтон

Стив Харрингтон

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