Day 030: Letter To Cole
Summary: Tink shoves a letter she's written to Cole on his pad and walks away.
Date: 06/28/2016
Related: For the One Hundred Pt 2
Tink Cole 

Day 30: Visitor's Residences - Mount Weather


Every time I close my eyes, I see them in the grounds, charred and bones. I hear them in my sleep, screaming as the flesh burned from their bodies. I smell the smoldering remains. I relive those moments when we turned on those engines and burned them to hell. I relive my own burning, the smell of my flesh burning, my hair scorched from my arms. The torment when your world explodes around you. I don’t know if it’s worse for you or me. I don’t know if you have these nightmares but I’m there, twofold because I’ve been burned alive. I know what it feels like to have your skin burned from your body.

I pushed it down in the Skybox, because I was living with a bunch of criminals who turned out later to have more heart and soul than those kids who claimed to be my friends and never showed up at my trial. I pushed it down when we landed because there was so much to do and I had a foul mouth bastard yelling at me to get it done. I pushed it down so far that I forgot what it felt like to burn, until I saw those remains in the grounds. They were the last things I saw before I went unconscious and now they’re the first things I see when I try to sleep. And I can only hold on by a thread, but I can’t push it down anymore. I can’t pretend that I didn’t just mass kill a bunch of grounders that had families, lives and dreams. At least after the generator blew, I could say it was a screw up, I didn’t mean to. That I trusted the wrong person. But that day. I meant it. I wanted them dead because it was us or them.

Worse, I know if it happens again. If we have to leave the mountain, I might have to do it again. Kill to survive because this world on the ground doesn’t let the weak survive. It scares me. The knowledge that I’m willing to give up another piece of my soul to live another day. I’m willing to fire up those engines again if someone tries to hurt me or mine. That my dreams of building a home, finding a home for every single one of those damn criminals that I love so much might mean killing again.

How many lives do I have to take the next time? When will it no longer matter? Cause damn it, it matters. Every god damn life matters. And I’m afraid of losing me. Of letting this place take the one thing that I’ve always clung to, my humanity. My hope that tomorrow is going to better. That somewhere in this god forsaken world I’m going to find a home. One that’s mine. One that can’t be taken away from me over some petty cruelty or raging lunatic. Someone who will look at this scarred, wounded soul and see me. Not just for the surface. But the real me. The crazy pixie chick who comes with a slice of genius and two helpings of hope.

I don’t know how to help you because I’m still trying to figure out how to save my own mind. But don’t push it down. Don’t pretend it didn’t happen. It doesn’t fucking work. Take a day, a week, a god damn month to lose your mind and set it right. Or reboot. Dad always said when things didn’t make sense get back to basics. I’m trying to get back to basics. To mourn, to cry and reboot myself. I’m trying to find things to hold onto. Kai. You. Reno. Max. Cameron. You guys keep me here. You keep me sane. Don’t leave me here by myself to live with the guilt. Don’t stop trying. That’s all I ask. Cause I’m not. I can’t give up. At the end of the day, I want to live. That feels like the worst crime. Cause I’ll go murder bot if it means keeping all of you safe. What the fuck does that say about me?


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