We're going insane

tw: mentions of suicide 

There's nothing in this world or the next that could possibly strip him of the memory, of the pain of that day. Its like a brand on his psyche - the look in her eyes, that wild, out of control look that promised recklessness. There had been a chilling lack of regard for her own safety as she stepped closer and closer to the cliffs edge, evading him no matter what he did. Her voice had been shrill, grating against his ears with her self induced panic. A sense of dread gripped him, he knew what was coming, on some instinctual level, he knew exactly how desperate she’d become. Tears wet her cheeks and she shook her head as she grappled with her demons. Demons that he knew that he had a role in creating. A part of him felt guilty, the parts that cared for her. The rest of him stood firm in his belief that she should have been stronger, she hadn't been meant to crumble under the weight of his obsession. If she hadn’t gotten so caught up in right and wrong and simply focused on them. Instead, she jumped.

The devastation that rolled through him was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. All he could do was stare after her. Even his own mothers death had been easier to swallow than this. At least his mother hadn't willingly left this world. The only woman he'd ever grown to love had taken her own life. All to escape him. Leaving him to live with that knowledge everyday of his life. It changed him. Little by little, everyday. It chipped away what little tolerance he had, creating a tyrant that didn't hesitate to cut down those outside of his care.

-
 
His lungs burn. His eyes sting. His muscles scream in agony. Breaking the waters surface feels like an impossible task, but as his paws scrape against sand, he's rewarded for his efforts with oxygen. Sputtering, he sucks in a desperate breath. On legs that can barely support his mass, Lorenzo stumbles ashore, feeling more than half dead. Surviving is all he can think about. Just get out of the water. That one all consuming thought fills the gaps in his memory. Leaves him blind to what he doesn't remember. On shore, his legs give out under him and he sinks into the wet sand, the waves still licking at his hind legs. Slowly, his erratic breathing evens out. Too bad it doesn't also ease the ache he feels in every muscle. He has no concept of time as it passes. 

Eventually, his eyes flutter open. His brows furrow and he blinks repeatedly, his eyes dry and scratchy from the salt water. He scrubs a foreleg across his face. Clearing his vision, he looks up from his place on the beach. An unfamiliar forrest stretches on before him. Slowly, he gets to his paws, his body stiff and unwilling; though that pales when a white hot pain sears across his chest and up his neck. A half growl, half gasp parts his jaws. Had he been injured? How had he even ended up in the salt waters? Icy realization settled like a weight against his chest. He couldn't remember. The more he tried to piece the nothing together, the more questions he had. What the fuck? Mismatched eyes harden and he slowly ascends the beach. Triangular ears rotate restlessly, sensitive to every unfamiliar sound. Nostrils flare and quiver, his sense of smell assaulted by unfamiliar scents. He can just feel he's somewhere he's even heard of.

Because his life isn't miserable enough. 

Shaking his coat, he can feel the drying salt against his skin, making him itch. It only worsens his foul mood. 

At least back home, he had his siblings. He had familiar faces, ones that stood by him even in his volatile mood swings. They knew the source of his grief, of his blind rage. But here? Wherever here was, the sense of loneliness settled in quickly. It crashes into him. Hard and without warning. Foreign and suffocating. Perhaps its a small mercy that his father beat his stubbornness into him. Lorenzo Vincenza doesn't bend or break. Abandoning the beach and the god forsaken black waters that had threatened to swallow him whole, he disappears into the shadows of the strange forrest.
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