It's difficult to say what cuts more deeply, the tears or the words. My breathing is labored, and moves raggedly through my throat. I can feel the parts of my body that want to shut down, that are already swelling and bruised. My shoulder, which I had thought so well recovered, is afire with pain. My eyes are stinging, and I assume it's from sweat.
"...sorry..." I rasp out, only part of a full sentence. My throat isn't cooperating, just yet.
Even though I know the words I'm saying before they're out of my mouth, it doesn't feel like I have much control over them.
"...failed you," I say, unable to say 'I'. Not that it matters. Hearing the words out loud are possibly as great a shock as Bucky had hearing his own.
"So many times," I press on. I remain on the ground, on my knees, where I landed.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2011-06-15 05:34 am (UTC)"...sorry..." I rasp out, only part of a full sentence. My throat isn't cooperating, just yet.
Even though I know the words I'm saying before they're out of my mouth, it doesn't feel like I have much control over them.
"...failed you," I say, unable to say 'I'. Not that it matters. Hearing the words out loud are possibly as great a shock as Bucky had hearing his own.
"So many times," I press on. I remain on the ground, on my knees, where I landed.
"...So sorry."