I swear, I swear that I'm a good kid, a good kid, who's had a bad run

Emile knew he couldn't keep this up, the crushing weight of his guilt. The torment of the voices that taunted him in the voices of his family... and one former friend. The dissappointment of waking up in the morning to see he had survived another night... The image of his body laying broken at the bottom of the ravine... All the other impulse thoughts he'd gotten to do something that would end it all, would finally take the pain from his shoulders. The way his skin was starting to hang loose from his frame as he continued to push just how much he could starve himself.

Emile needed to tell someone, couldn't bear it by himself. His father had promised to help him and Emile was desperate. He waited for night to fall, waited to be sure he wouldn't bump into her when he finally pull himself from his depression den, the pile of blankets and furs that he'd cocooned himself in through later afternoon and evening. Emile stalked through the halls of the castle, eyes wide and ears perked for any sign of anyone who might spot him, might stop him... Or worse... Bowen. But mercifully he arrived at his father's door unaccosted. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He could already imagine the disappointment on his father's face when he realized that despite his best efforts Emile had slid further from the light since their last talk...

Not for lack of trying, he'd even been slowly becoming comfortable being out in the open, sticking mostly to himself and chewing on his resentment yes but it had been progressing... "You're so selfish." Emile practically flinched as the words sounded in his head, guilt gnawed at him. Guilt over failing to keep moving forward, guilt over thinking he deserved to. Guilt for hurting his once friend. Guilt for being such a drain on the pack and his family. He, not for the first time, thought how much better off they'd be without him. Emile pushed back the sobs that threatened to choke him and he knocked on his father's door before those thoughts could become strong enough to stop him from trying to get help... Even if he didn't deserve it.

"Ddddddad?" He called out, pushing the crown of his skull into the door and unable to keep the waver from his voice. "I th... think I nnnnnneed help."


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