[ It all goes wrong remarkably fast. He sees the way Robby's face twists, and knows exactly what it means; funny how he still gets a sinking feeling watching a kid jump towards hell. It's been a while since he felt that.
There's a lot of blood, a lot of screaming. Robby hooks a thumb into the thing's dark wet little eye. It isn't human, but John can still feel the rupture of vitreous jelly as a familiar pop. His senses go beyond sight, and a body is a body. He can marvel at the way this one comes apart, blow by hacking blow.
He doesn't intervene.
Robby lives, and the thing beneath his axe doesn't. John regards the color of its brain, wet and clumpy on the blade of the axe. He regards the ribbons of the kid's shredded back, not half as bad as he'd thought this might get, and he waits for the thing's digging grip and then death-spasms to end. It goes sweetly still: it dies like anything else.
When it's finished, when Robby stops swinging, he steps forward clean and untouched. He doesn't look horrified, or even concerned: mostly, he looks tired. ]
cw: eye injuries, gore
There's a lot of blood, a lot of screaming. Robby hooks a thumb into the thing's dark wet little eye. It isn't human, but John can still feel the rupture of vitreous jelly as a familiar pop. His senses go beyond sight, and a body is a body. He can marvel at the way this one comes apart, blow by hacking blow.
He doesn't intervene.
Robby lives, and the thing beneath his axe doesn't. John regards the color of its brain, wet and clumpy on the blade of the axe. He regards the ribbons of the kid's shredded back, not half as bad as he'd thought this might get, and he waits for the thing's digging grip and then death-spasms to end. It goes sweetly still: it dies like anything else.
When it's finished, when Robby stops swinging, he steps forward clean and untouched. He doesn't look horrified, or even concerned: mostly, he looks tired. ]
I think you got it.