Work Text:
"Do you guys just hate me this much?"
His voice was hardly above a whisper, shaking just as badly as he was. They were so determined to get at him – so determined to tear his life away from his desperate hands. What had he done to deserve this? He'd only tried to live his life the best he could, survived from paycheck to paycheck, hell, he even kept this job primarily so that no one else would have to go through what he did every night. So that no one would have to live with the insomnia, the paranoia, the constant wear of stress that reflected on his entire being, from the freckling of premature grey hairs to the way his hands would tremble even while still.
For so long, Scott had considered these animal characters his friends. Companions that just needed some well-earned respect. Constant reminders that, despite everything, at least one constant persisted in his life.
To some extent, he still did. Even now as they clawed to get at him through the reinforced glass windows, he believed in them.
The tablet clattered to the table as two shaking hands ran themselves through short brown locks, similarly colored eyes clenching shut as if somehow when they opened, he'd wake up. He'd wake up in his bed, sweat dripping down his face, but alive and safe and home.
That's where he wanted to be. Not here. Not in this office where his chance of survival grew slimmer by the second.
He just wanted to go home.