TW: ANGST, MCD

To this day, the sound of loose stones makes him cringe.

Cringe? Cringe as in scream, stumble, fall, curl up, squeeze his eyes shut. Cringe as in sob, twisted words cracking in a broken voice, words to someone who will never hear them. Cringe is an ill-fitting word. Break is a better description.

To this day, the sound of loose stones makes him break.

He finds it everywhere. He never noticed how much gravel can lie hidden under the ground, covered by dirt and stone. Now it's under every layer, it seems. It crumbles as he squirms away, cracking and breaking into clumps that torment him, laugh at him, every stone a reminder.

Night is bad. He can hear the monsters outside, their footsteps over the gravel making him whimper. Every sound makes him tremble, body wound up so tightly you could shatter his skin. Hid eyes screwed shut, clothes old and dirty.

Dirty? Dirty as in muddy, black, smeared, knotted, bloody, tangled. Dirty as in caked with gore and plastered to his skin. Dirty is an ill-fitting word. Filthy is a better description.

His eyes screwed shut, clothes old and filthy.

Dawn is worse, the crackling of flames and the frantic footsteps over gravel and howls of the dying. He screams, his throat raw and broken. His cries shatter among the trees, cracking over the flames. He balls fists into hair, pulling until blood runs down his face and trickles down his arms. When the sun soars above the forest, he'll emerge, hair stained red and hands shaking, to stare at to pit, the sounds of soft bubbling just audible over the wind. He'll sob, still, words twisting among his thoughts, sounds echoing inside his head

Digging, rhythmic crunching sounds over his shoulder. Sharper sound from in front, the sounds of rock cracking and tools moving through the air. Comforting breathing from his partner.

"Hey, I think I fou-"

A scream, a wail of fear. The wind whistling in his ears, then the howls-

Bubbling howls, hissing, pain, sobs, aguish, his own cries, and now he could feel the stone under his fingers, cutting as he scrambled down, scrapping his skin, ripping his clothes-

The lava bulged then exploded as the howling resumed, what remained lunged at the shore. The unearthly howls were echoing around the cave, the fire burning across his clothes, his skin melting, face dripping, eyes bulging, hair gone.

Martyn stumbled back, his-

-mouth opening to scream again, but his voice failed him and instead he whimpered, stumbling away from where the gravel had caved in, his shaking legs giving way so he fell with a thump.

He stared at the sky, panting, whimpering, trembling, a broken man.

Broken? Broken as in dead, tormented, burnt, cut, bruised, haunted. Broken, as in whispering words of apology and sorrow to himself. Broken is an ill-fitting word. Shattered is a better description

He stared at the sky, panting, whispering, trembling, a shattered man.

Credit to MiathiBlue on Ao3