Work Text:
Somewhere in St. Louis, Missisipi, Calvin was staring at his ceiling.
Sleep wouldn't take him.
He had been trying to fall asleep for hours, and had lost track of time.
He glanced over at the clock on his wall. It was hard to read in the dark. The ginger cat squinted at it. It was somewhere around 3:30. AM. He couldn't see the little lines that told him the minutes.
Calvin groaned. He didn't even feel tired, he just didn't want to be awake anymore. Replaying the events of the night was even worse than experiencing it for the very first time. He could remember everything so clearly. The noise of a crowd streaking past him. A door slamming shut in his face, locking him in with people he barely knew. The cold, damp stone of the armory. The arguing. The clamoring. The rush of adrenaline he felt when he snatched the little pistol out of Rocky's hands. Chasing after people who he had already hurt enough. Running from his own cousin because he didn't want to own up to what he had done.
Lying in bed, covering his head with a pillow.
Will I go to hell?
The thought took him by surprise.
He didn't know if it was possible to feel more shame than he already felt, knowing the answer.
Calvin started to tear up. He squashed them down, though.
If I cry, I'll wake up my mother.
He didn't want to face her right now.
He lifted the pillow off his head and set it back in it's normal position. He had to get to sleep. If he had nightmares, he would deserve them.
There were so many new things he could add to the list of things wrong with him.
Calvin twisted until he was curled up in a ball. 4AM. 5AM. He was painfully aware of every second that passed, every hour he was alone with his thoughts. He felt like he was bieng punished, and if he was, he deserved it. His eyelids eventually managed to shut, and he drifted into fitful sleep.
"Good morning, cupcake!
Rough night, huh?"