This was meant to be home but it no longer felt like it. Whenever he left his cabin Atticus was faced with vicious winds and raging blizzards, shuddering through his core and leaving it chilled to the point of shivering. He could not leave without facing Intesa temperatures outside but every time he remained within the confinement of his cabin he only felt even worse.
The cabin was empty.
No children running through, no messes that Peter once left behind for his dad to run into no open books that Mercy would often leave in her wake. There was nothing and he found himself being as empty as the walls of his shed. His children were gone and his husband was broken, so broken. Henry must have thought he hid it well behind his sweatshirt and glasses but Attie was inclined to emotions, he sensed the pain in the other and what was worse was knowing he was the cause of that pain.
He had caused pain onto his lover and Atticus could not forgive himself for that.
He had left his children and now they were gone and that was all his fault, this was a result of all the pain and all the hurt he had caused just because he was idiotic enough to die.
This was all Atticus’s fault.
He had grown to be his father. He followed in his abusive parent's footsteps.
He let the war ruin him, he let himself hurt the ones he loved and he allowed himself to break his family in ways it could never be fixed.
He did this.
The man let the thought bubble and boil into his mind and he grew stiff where he stood in his cabin, his jaw tightened and his breathing turned hoarse. Eyes were cast over the room in which he stood in, a room where his family should have been but they weren't.
He lost his children once again - Was this something that would follow him in every life? Bearing the loss of a child? Was this meant to be constant torture because of all the wrong he had done to his family. Why did the world want to make him suffer in such ways? To ache in ways that were unbearable, to witness the passing of his first son, to hurt his husband, to lose the rest of his family, he faced this agony over and over again for as long as he live and he could not bear it.
Atticus Hacksaw couldnt bear it anymore.
He raised a paw and let it wack into the closest piece of furniture by his side, a chair. It robber over and clang to the floor where the dalmatian would kick it aside, drawing in air into his lungs before letting out a loud yowl, not of pain no, but of pure raw emotions. He screamed and it broke into gross sobbing, his voice behind his tears broke and cracked and the medic threw himself outside to face the cold of Windclan, he didn't care that it was cold he needed to be out of thay empty shack. In the snow, body shaking and chest wheezing out loud cries Atticus would grieve everything and continue to put the blame of everything onto himself.
- Atticus Hacksaw| "Attie" | Male
- Homoromantic | Demisexual
- Taken, married to Henry Hacksaw
- Medic of Windclan
- 2 Years
-Was a medic in World War 2
-Suffers from PTSD
-Former Morphine addict
-Knows Hebrew and some German
- Dalmation| health: 80%
— An incredibly thin biologically female dalmation dog with pure white fur absolutely littered with black spots and freckles. Has bright green eyes and a huge black nose. Has a bob where his tail is supposed to be - it partially fell due to frostbite. He currently wears a dark navy asiatic style piece with a black sash around his waist and a beige satchel over his back. His lower limbs are littered with little cuts and scars due to travelling and injuries received from such travels. Has the number '1809' tattooed on his right inner wrist
Injuries- Missing tail, a few scartes and cuts on legs
- Polite, Respectful, Determined
- Hardy, Adaptable, Self-Sufficient
- Faithful, Devoted, Loyal
- Easy physically | Medium mentally
- Will not start fights
- Attack in [color=#000000]underlined black