The Boy With The Blank Stare: Future

Chapter Twenty Five: Demons

TW: Mentions of Rape, Violence, Slight Disassociation, Derogatory language

Ouma's POV:

The alarm blared as I pressed stop, a small yawn escaping me still as part of me begged to be able to go back to bed. Just to have five more minutes, and then wake back up.

You knew better.
I know better.

Quickly I reached over and grabbed my clothes, changing in the perfect span of time. A white shirt with black checked pants, at least that's what they told me it was. A small hair tie was left on my bedside, as I quickly combed it and tied it back in a long ponytail. Black fuzzy socks that balanced on being unbearably warm yet too soft to not continue wearing as well.

Even if we weren't in a technical house, I wasn't allowed shoes.
Maybe I should call it home.

Sharp objects were banned.
You'll hurt people.
I couldn't be trusted.
I didn't deserve trust.

I reached over to the side of the wall.

Two long crutches laid against the wall, as I wrapped the straps around my arms and hesitantly sat up. My leg ached with the motion, even the more mobile one. The lack of exercise really had taken its toll, and I was thankful that at least the arm exercises I had done made me more than capable of carrying my weight.

Weaknesses are intolerable.
I won't be weak ever again.

I knocked on the door and waited patiently as a slight buzzing sound was made and the door unlocked. Grabbing the cold and chilling handle I opened the door and quickly made my way out the door.

The hallway smelled of dust and nearly made me sneeze once again. The halls were cold against my feet, even with the socks as the rough concrete sent small pieces of rock into the holes in my socks. It was a little painful, but nothing that could kill me.

Don't complain.
It's easily tolerable.

I traced a hand against the wall, allowing some of the wall to take part of my body weight as I walked forward. The doors didn't have any braille labels and despite my best efforts every day it seemed as if everything from chairs to boxes were moved around making the terrain next to impossible to memorize. Shadows could only account for so much when I could hear the flickering lights above me and part of me resented the lack of easy passage. Part of me wondered if this was some kind of unsaid punishment for refusing any eye correctional surgery time and time again, or for the lack of progress I had made in my physical therapy. The limp in my legs still took some minor getting used to, and I knew that from most people's perspective it was a clear exploitable weakness just like my eyes. Because if it at least stayed consistent I wouldn't have bruises or end up late for any required meals.

You're pathetic.

It doesn't matter, it was never intentional.

Do you want to bite the hand that feeds you?

I was just being dramatic.

No one else will stay with you.

I know.

Finally, I traced over the scratched wood of the door to the cafeteria. I knocked again, three times this time as I waited patiently as footsteps emerged from behind me. "It seems you for once arrived ahead of me, this is a welcome change" my father praised. "You said punctuality was the key to life" I reminded calmly.

"So you do learn fast, I knew your teacher was wrong about you. She regarded you as a wayward student without care, but all it took was proper nurturing of your natural talents" my father praised, as I heard his keys clink against each other as they unlocked the door. The whiplash of warm air brushed against my face as my father grabbed me by the shoulder and dragged me to the table.