[right][img]http://puu.sh/nBlGv/2846e64ef1.png[/img][/right]
[i]"To be asked to take this plunge, to forgive and forget
And be the better man, to be a better man, [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FubvitXV_zM]to be a better man[/url]."[/i]
[hr][hr]
You clutch your leg tightly to yourself, instinctively keeping your face to the floor to keep your curses from traveling, even if no one is going to hear it. No matter how hard you try to push on your leg the bleeding keeps pumping out, and touching it stings. You look around and notice that the other passengers are stiff as statues again, carrying on with their lives as you stain the floor. 

Alright. Fine. There’s nothing to say that you can’t just walk back the way you came. So what if it all started up again and another train came? So what? Giving a disgruntled exhale you grab one of the overhead pulleys and force yourself onto both feet. Each step sends a nasty shock up through your leg, but crying over it isn’t going to make it go away. Better to just put one foot in front of the other and do this. 

You brace yourself against one of the train’s door handles and give it a sharp tug, making sure to really throw your weight into it. No good. Your heart sinks. No, stop. You don’t have time for that. You need to get out. You need to run. 

But your leg isn’t having that, is it? You buckle for a moment then push yourself back up again. You shift all of your weight down on the handle, pull up and slam it down, jiggle it. Nothing is working. You try every tried and true method of busting a handle open but nothing gives. Maybe it’s because it’s an industrial door, or maybe it’s the time thing, or maybe it’s just [i]you[/i]. 

Maybe you’re just too weak to open a door. 

Everything is vibrating along the edges. The handle, the people, your own hands. You slump against the doorway and catch your breath, but it’s really hard to see straight like this. There’s blood smeared all over the floor and it’s yours. Perfect. You wonder if time is just going to start up again and that’s just going to be there. That’s going to make that little girl cry even more- why isn’t her mother doing anything? She was like that for a twenty minutes, why not just tell her it’s going to be okay? 


You swallow, push yourself back onto your feet. Your arms feel disconnected from your body, meanwhile your leg just won’t just stop already. No, it’s fine. It’s okay. Just open up the roof escape. 

You stretch as far as your body will let you, hissing as you grab onto the latch. If you can just reach a little farther- your leg collapses under you and you narrowly miss hitting an old man drinking his coffee like nothing is happening. This time, you can’t help yourself. 


[color=DarkGray]“Fucking, damnit! Just open!”[/color] you scream. Your eyes sting. You bite down on your lip, push yourself up again. Crying doesn’t solve anything. You just need to try something different is all. But instead of getting up, you just curl into yourself. You'll try something different in a few minutes. You bury your head in your arms, but you don't cry. 

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[i][right]So love me mother, and love me father, and love my sister as well.[/right]
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