The Inadvertent

Chapter 77-Lights

(Warning! Gory content!)
I almost tetter back in shock at the display that erects before me in Winston's body, my orbs assess the attrition exacted on his body, every edge to him protrudes from his frame, anorexic, deprived of actual food for who knows how long, his shoes harbor these gaping holes that reveal the toes under them, I almost gasp in horror when I realize some of his toes are missing, the torn fabric of his clothing barely hangs on by these paltry and thin threads, begetting some strips to hang insecurely off his frame, his exposed skin jibes at me. Parlous and wild lines wreathes around his legs like the vines on the Maze Walls, curling and clenching around every muscle as if to rein him, the dark contour of the vines evince the lumped veins that are embued with the Flare, so surplused, that the veins protrude from Winston's skin, his shirt is so minced that it isn't even a shirt anymore, just a defiled, grated, hazardly sustained peice of fabric that hangs laxly and fairly around his shoulders, the bottom rim of the shirt is so slashed that strips of the shirt sway from his every hectic jerk. I huff out in horror when I discern the giant blotches of ruby and plum that intermix beneath the shreds of his shirt, the dales of the gashes that had coerced him into terminating his own life remain, but they appear inert, which is polar of the gashes that line his arms and legs, the boney structure of his frame alarms me as I espy his rib cage and hipbone jut notably, on the side of his mangled face, these raveled strands that remind me of the limbs of trees wildly extend off the side of his head. Curling balefully and disorderly like fingers, his orbs are bleary, so raven that they appear soulless without their pupils, plots of Winston's face is missing, rooting some of his face to peal off and hang grisly, I cringe at the sight, gapes within Winston's once opulent locks mar his mane, badge, rasped skin lies underneath, exposed harshly to the petulant world, he snarls bestially at me, gazing at me with a esurient guise, shifting with mania leaking from his very frame "what happened to you?" I probe subtly, my voice weak from the horror before me that robs Winston's appearance. Winston, or should I identify, the Crank, snarls back as response, jerking abruptly "you did this to me, you traitor" he bites out, twitching oddly "what?", The probe barely makes it past my lips "no, how could I do this? You got sick because of them!" I counter him loudly, growing irated and averting "you did this to me!" The Crank roars lividly, a lakes of tar emit from the ridges of his lips, I essay not to gaze upon him with odium, although he may be a Crank, there has to be some sliver of Winston underneath, I hope. But as he slowly advances to me, my hope wanes into doubt, but I sustain my elevated hands to array that I am of no threat to him, although it isn't my threat that I am timid about, he limps towards me steadily, torturing me with his lethargy, he only halts when he is right before me, gazing at me with those soulless orbs "you did this to me", his voice is low with menace, deeming the geniality of his prior voice gone, I cannot take a step back, I am too close to the edge, I begin to panic. Incapably wintessing him advance more, he is so close now that his feet nudge against my own "you did this to them" he growls viciously, he reaches behind him and pulls out an object, throwing it to the floor, an odd sound enters my ears and I flinch as something spray against my cheek, I elevate my hand and graze my finger against my cheek, rubbing off whatever grazed against my cheek, I assess my finger, discerning the blotch, horror surges within my veins and my breathing becomes rapid, uneven due to fear, the lour of vivid ruby glints proudly. I begin to breathe heavily, timidly glancing down at what lies at my feet, I restrain the scream that almost escapes my lips, at my feet, is a rended arm, blood pools around the cleaved limb, tainting the gray tint of the building, my breathing revs and my fear is nursed "Jack is dead because of you" Winston sneer his claim "no", I sob, shaking my head as if to rebuke the notion "I didn't get to him in time, it wasn't my fault he decided to scour for supplies alone in that mall" I oppose him "it is all your fault". Winston claims, spurning my polemics, he leans in his face to be closer to my own, I don't coil, avering myself and my creeds "and for what you did, you deserve what is coming to you", suddenly, he rams me, his force vitiates my balance and I am hurled off the slender edge I was erected upon, I scream as I plunge down, watching my hair thresh around wildly with the wind frisking upon every strand, I fumble my arms and legs about in hopes of obtaining a sliver of hope, but I sink easily beside the building. My scream echoes around me, the last thing I espy before I detect myself inpact the ground is the leering Crank, I flinch as my body slams against the ground, the effect is so great that I jolt awake, I groan subtly as I peal open my heavy eyelids, which almost rebuff to even unlatch from being so wary, although the dream was horrible, I am so exsiccated and enervated that I cannot emit a single tear, I gaze up at the sky, espying a soft cover of azure for night, but as I twist my head, I notice something in the distance, lights.