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 Posted: Mon Apr 06, 2015 1:45 pm
"Jesus..." All other trappings of frustration were replaced with the concern he'd always had. If Dawson's body hasn't been protesting even breathing so loudly, he would have reached over to clasp Chris' shoulder in solidarity. Instead, all he could grasp at was the turf and give his friend sympathetic looks.
"Jesus," he repeated more quietly, unsure of what to say. "M'sawry, Chris." How long had he been holding that in?
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Posted: Mon Apr 06, 2015 1:52 pm
He shrugged, flexing his fists against his knees. "When you starve, the first thing that goes is muscle. One of the lifers said it's cause your body keeps the fat to protect you, or some s**t. And I couldn't just ********' go back to eating right away - made me throw up. So I just felt like even worse s**t when I got back. It's like not having the control of your body that you should." He scrunched up his face. "I'm not gonna feel that again."
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Posted: Mon Apr 06, 2015 2:01 pm
He sighed and wiped his hand down his mouth and chin. "I get that, Chris. s**t, yer dedication is somethin' else," he said. "But there's a line between gettin' stronger n' breakin' yerself doin' it, n' you've been crossin' tha' line too many times fer me t'keep shut about it anymore."
Dawson gestured vaguely at him. "Lookit you, man. All muscle, yeah, but you barely sleepin', you stuck on this instead a'lookin' forward. I got the tar punched outta me, but you still look like you got the s**t end. You wrestlin' demons I cain' even imagine, but ya don' gotta do it all yerself."
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