but in ourselves { savior }

[✨ zozo.]

XAVIER _______ CLARKE

Good days don't have to start with the sun shining in the sky or a smile on my face. Good days don't have to end with starlit nights and ease of sleep. Good days just have to start and end, and hopefully somewhere in between I'll have the strength to get out of bed and start to live again.

"You need to stop by the medical clinic" my mother instructs, kindness and concern all rolled into one. She doesn't trust their medicine any more than I do but checkups every once in a while don't hurt. They've done more damage than we care to admit and the slowly dulling heart sitting in my chest is proof enough of that.

"Maybe" I reply, aloof and distrusting.

"Xavier" she pleads, heart breaking in her tone.

I say nothing and walk out the door, but she knows what runs through my head as I leave. I see no point in having a white coat tell me what we already know: there's still nothing we can do to stop me from dying.

I am the walking dead, counting my footsteps and counting my blessings and counting down the days until I die. Maybe that's why I like to walk for hours on end. I've got more steps than I do blessings or days or beats of my heart left. The days between good and bad are getting thinner and thinner with every passing month and I can feel death on the horizon, watching my every move until I walk right into it's grasp.

For a moment, I think I already have.

Nausea kicks me in the stomach and sends me stumbling, a punch to the side of the head knocking my sideways and I collapse against the wall in a blur. The invisible attacker crawls down my throat and stirs up a thunderstorm in my insides, his accomplice wrapping a fist around my throat and squeezing, releasing, squeezing, releasing.

He strikes again - another kick to the abdomen, and this time the aftermath can't help but spill from my throat all over the pavement, scarlet splatters corrupting the cracked concrete below me as I retch into the path of an oncoming stranger.

I am released, though the world still tilts and spins on an uneven axis. Disgruntled noises of disgust follow behind me and footsteps swerve to avoid the painting of my insides on the ground but there's a pair of shoes in front of me that aren't moving at all.

Slowly, with a blood-stained grin and sheepish eyes, I look up.

"Sorry about your shoes" I grimace.

[grim.]

Over Troubled Water,

---


A morning of mornings, I guess you could call this one. It was rather untouched, pure in a sense. I felt as if it had little meaning to the rest of the world, but for me it was a day to remember. I was to fetch the groceries today, this meant that I was responsible for meeting the needs of our household. But I of course could care less about the rest of the house, I was going to do what I thought was best for myself, since no one else in the world seemed to do it for me. I guess you could call it selfish, but days that I had the time to care for myself, I cherish. 

"Today lets cause a ruckus." I say to myself. My sister wasn't much fun to talk to and I was well aware of the complete stupidity of our parents, so I found a bit of joy conversing with myself. Perhaps later I would have the chance to visit a few of my friends, after all a day of no work meant play, right? After I grab my jacket and pull on a set of boots, I cant feel myself rush faster out of the door. My hair flowing ruggedly down my back, and a small bit of cash tucked beneath my fingers. At least I could say that I was there to buy something this time, rather then taking. 

My walk over to the market was filled with fast paced clacking of my heels. I wanted so badly to roam the market, see what was to offer today. I had little care for anyone in this district, perhaps if one of them had shown me a bit of kindness that view would have changed. But as it seems the few friends I had to call my own where all that mattered, and even that wasn't very much. I begin to cross over a concrete slab, just beyond the edge of the trail that leads to my home, along with many others. I do believe I lived rather close to the medical clinic, which is very unappealing considering my distaste for any bodily fluids. I swear sometimes even the foamy spit from teeth brushing can cause my neck to itch.

Though What happened next had my stomach rip from my abdomen and froth from my lips. A boy much larger then I and rather sickly looking hurled a pool of blood from his mouth. Its landing place on the concrete below me, and splattered a crossed my shoes. I couldn't help but feel my hands cup over my mouth. An immediate churn in my stomach erupted into a spill. "Sorry about your shoes". he says moments after standing. I explode with the mixture of whatever I had left in my stomach. It plastered his feet with a much more foul substance.

"likewise" I say looking up to him just for a moment.

I stand back up, wiping my mouth with the edge of my shirt. The sickness in my stomach still remained. I step to my left and bend back to my knees, my eyes looking up to the sky while my hands untie my mess of shoes. I had only prayed that I wouldn't feel any moisture. After removing my shoes without looking I set them aside. "Guess its barefoot for the both of us." I say attempting to lighten the mood. I reach out to shake his hand. "Well since I have already had your blood splattered across my shoes, whats the harm in a friendly introduction? I'm Saxton, Saxton Hale."

---

S A X T O N. 

credit to tori