Peter Petrelli (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spongetastic) wrote2010-04-27 05:58 pm
spongetastic) wrote2010-04-27 05:58 pm
Entry tags:
Sunday: After
"i have the scars to prove
the clock strikes
with her hands"
--Saul Williams
All was quiet outside but he knew the lull wouldn’t last long. He sat with his back pressed up against the wall, too tense to fully relax. His ears strained through the silence but so far he couldn’t hear anything.
It wasn’t wise to stay in one spot for too long. It was more likely they would find him if he did. So after sitting for a while to regain his strength, Peter rose again. Cautiously he peered out through the window to be sure the streets were empty before venturing outside. Things were quiet but he didn’t trust the silence.
Peter moved quickly, darting behind overturned cars and ducking into alleys to keep himself as hidden as possible. Being seen was like a death sentence these days. He stumbled across a dead man on the street. Their shoe sizes were close so he switched; his old ones were getting ragged, and the prints left behind were recognizable.
There were a few close calls along the way. Peter took care of them before the problem escalated. Eventually he made it back to his current safe house. Like everything else, he had to change this every few weeks or so. It was safe for now but eventually he knew he would have to leave.
The only thing that didn’t change was the scar on his face. It was a reminder of everything that used to be, and what happened to bring him here. It was a long time ago now but the events were still fresh in his mind. However horrible or sad, it was important to remember.
the clock strikes
with her hands"
--Saul Williams
All was quiet outside but he knew the lull wouldn’t last long. He sat with his back pressed up against the wall, too tense to fully relax. His ears strained through the silence but so far he couldn’t hear anything.
It wasn’t wise to stay in one spot for too long. It was more likely they would find him if he did. So after sitting for a while to regain his strength, Peter rose again. Cautiously he peered out through the window to be sure the streets were empty before venturing outside. Things were quiet but he didn’t trust the silence.
Peter moved quickly, darting behind overturned cars and ducking into alleys to keep himself as hidden as possible. Being seen was like a death sentence these days. He stumbled across a dead man on the street. Their shoe sizes were close so he switched; his old ones were getting ragged, and the prints left behind were recognizable.
There were a few close calls along the way. Peter took care of them before the problem escalated. Eventually he made it back to his current safe house. Like everything else, he had to change this every few weeks or so. It was safe for now but eventually he knew he would have to leave.
The only thing that didn’t change was the scar on his face. It was a reminder of everything that used to be, and what happened to bring him here. It was a long time ago now but the events were still fresh in his mind. However horrible or sad, it was important to remember.