Booker DeWitt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dewitticisms) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
promuseboxing2016-03-30 12:50 am
dewitticisms) wrote in promuseboxing2016-03-30 12:50 am
for tearmeanewone
This wasn't what Booker was expecting when Elizabeth, all those versions of Elizabeth, held him under the waters. There hadn't been any time to think beyond the sick realization settling in his gut that she was his Anna. That all her suffering, the loneliness and the goddamned torture were all on him because he'd been desperate enough to make a deal to sell off the one thing he never should have let go of. All he could do was let her do it, smother Comstock in the crib.
Maybe she'd get to be happy that way. Or at least learn how to smile properly again.
Except-
Except he ain't dead.
He ain't sure where he is but if it's hell then someone has a sick sense of humor. He's still soaked to the skin from the river, his shoes are long gone and some fella who looked like ten miles of bad road stuck a weird looking shackle on his wrist after making him sign something. Probably just signed his soul, or what was left of it, away. He got poked with some needles and sent on his way. Left alone, he does the only thing that feels right.
He finds the bar. The other inmates don't seem too phased which just makes everything more unreal.
They said he's in space.
"The hell did you send me...?" He laughs raggedly at the idea that Elizabeth didn't actually kill him. Just sent him as far away as possible. He can't possibly fuck up everything if he's removed from everything, right? He stares at the drink in front of him, trying to decide if it he wants to kill the salts he's got left by drinking the whole bottle.
Maybe she'd get to be happy that way. Or at least learn how to smile properly again.
Except-
Except he ain't dead.
He ain't sure where he is but if it's hell then someone has a sick sense of humor. He's still soaked to the skin from the river, his shoes are long gone and some fella who looked like ten miles of bad road stuck a weird looking shackle on his wrist after making him sign something. Probably just signed his soul, or what was left of it, away. He got poked with some needles and sent on his way. Left alone, he does the only thing that feels right.
He finds the bar. The other inmates don't seem too phased which just makes everything more unreal.
They said he's in space.
"The hell did you send me...?" He laughs raggedly at the idea that Elizabeth didn't actually kill him. Just sent him as far away as possible. He can't possibly fuck up everything if he's removed from everything, right? He stares at the drink in front of him, trying to decide if it he wants to kill the salts he's got left by drinking the whole bottle.
And now I have that song in my head
"I'm sorry I messed things up for you, though." He never was really cut out for parenthood in the end. A giant bird had more to say with her upbringing than he ever did.
"But, Elizabeth, I've gotta ask... how am I even alive? If I'm here, does that mean Comstock ain't dead?"