Haunted Wood mountains that are stacked with fear

@Santiago - set immediately after this thread. Mild powerplay - let me know if I need to change it!
Warnings: dissociation, suicidal thoughts and discussion. 

The blood drying on his fur was sticky and uncomfortable, but it was nothing in comparison to the feeling of the proverbial hole punched through his chest. Of course, the puncture wounds didn't help his case, oozing blood all over his snowy white pelt and causing his vision to tunnel. His paws felt numb, his chest was empty, and nothing felt real. Was Clarence real? Or was he just 734T3? 

It took some cajoling and nudging, but eventually Clarence was guided away from the training grounds. The boy had never felt so overwhelmingly desolate before in his life, tears and blood staining his cheeks and muzzle. He needed to wash off, and he knew it, but he didn't want to. 

This is who he was. And if Memory died from this, he would never forgive himself. 

Clarence turned to face Santiago, garnet eyes broken. "Kill me," he whispered, ears lowering to press against his skull. "Please. I can't... I can't hurt anyone else like this. What if I killed him?" he asked, voice shallow and hushed in the space between himself and the older wolf.