Trauma is something that very few people don't have. Life is hard. Now, imagine if your trauma gave you some "magical ability" that is related to it. Like Tommy, a boy who was abused, only to develop the ability to conjure rollerblades on his/other...
A soft coat of dust rests in the dark, overly decorated cardboard, too unused to be seen anymore. The contents inside are oddly shaped pieces of rainbow, animals and vehicles made of silver, light shades of colored paper making fake money, or clacking squares wearing faces that flip down.
Through closed wooden cabinets, these family games are nothing more than boxes now, sitting idly. Just hiding inside a tall wardrobe at the end of a battered hallway.
Footsteps thump at the same time his heart does, but not matching the pace. They finally, finally, make it to the door. Her hand slowly twisting the knob. The steel wiggling timidly in the air with blood flowing faster in his arms.
A slow click opens, and the space between them gets smaller and smaller before she finally, finally, steps out. The angle she stands is not that of a direct forward, but turning slowly left down the hallway.
Her brain not having time to fully register that it's stepping closer to Quiere.
Close enough already, to feel his breath.
One knee buckles to the ground, and a rush of warmth drips extensively from her forehead, but she doesn't know why. Placing her hand against it, she can't feel her own brow line. Only an indent, and a river carrying hard chunks of her skull.
"You ungrateful little-" She spurts out, every word intensifying the throbbing in her brain.
He chuckles standing over her. "Me? Ungrateful? Now that es rico."
The insides of her splash against the wall in one stripe, as he pulls the long weapon back.
With one foot pressed against the ground firmer than the other, he leans forward, the steel head slamming through her nose with enough force to shatter it and the surrounding plate of bone.
Large splinters rip through her clothes and paper thin skin as her back slams into the wooden floor. Bits and pieces of the fun multicolored plastic pour onto her, with her torso fully swallowed by the dark insides of the wardrobe.
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My Chemical Romance blares out of an alarm clock, before the teen next to it sits up, silencing the edge. White light shines into the open ocean of morning light coming in through the windows, as he unplugs, and checks his phone.
From: milly 🧡 (1:49am) [Did you know that the reason your farts stink, comes from the bacteria in your stomach that helps you digest food?]
Alex rubs his eyes before attempting a response.
Sent: (5:19am) [why on earth did you tell me this?]
But after setting the phone down, he can't help but chuckle.
