(HEAVILY BEING RE-WRITTEN!!!) Tommyinnit Oneshots ; Mostly Angst

Run away and turn into a prince 1/?

I sat on my bed, alone, once more. I hated this, sometimes I wish someone else was born then me, maybe then.. they will live in royalty. Them sitting on a throne, me on my bed. Maybe then, I'll be loved once again. I don't believe in God, but damn, if he could kill you when you asked.. I would be praying all day. My mother left me when I was 7, leaving me here with my Dad and my annoying step-mom and her child, who met each other when I was 9.

It was probably my mother's fault, the reason that I'm in pain, the reason why I am locked in my room. I was jumped out of thought by a knock that echoed through my empty and small room. "Thomas! Thomas!" A knock followed after again, I cringed at the mention of my name. I stretched, standing up after 1 hour. "What now, Phoebe?" I asked, with sorrow in my voice. "Open the door!!" She shouted through the key hole, making her words mush up.

I sighed, walking closer to the door. "Phoebe, It's locked, Mommy has the key." I mumbled, resting my back against the wooden grey door. "Huh? Get the key off Mommy then, silly." She giggled to herself, I just decided to play the game until she goes away. "Hey, Phoebe.. Remember the poem, we made??" I asked, sitting up straighter. "Uh-huh! But-- It's Dumb! Mommy doesn't like it.." She got quiet. I groan and reach for the paper on the floor. "Yeah.. But, Mommy doesn't like it because we made it together. Remember how we had the talk?" I stated, I needed to know if she remembered.. if not this would be useless.

She hummed and replied, "Ya! She doesn't like you, b-but neither does daddy." I smiled and slid the paper under the door. "Exactly, Phee. If we repeat the poem, Mommy will let me out to talk." Lying, I look down at my mention of 'talking.' I could practically see her smile, then I knew she starting frowning as I heard her drop down. "You mean.. Hit you? Don't worry, brother! I'll protect you, like last time!!" She chimed, picking the paper of the floor.

I find it sweet, you might of thought she was just as bad as her mother but she really isn't, anyway.. Phoebe is dyslexic and she's also 7, I needed to put it in simple words for her. Though, as she spent most of her time with me, she began memorising the words. "Okay! I got the words!!" She smiled and leaned back. "Okay now, Ready?" I asked, then had a hum of approval.

We began in sync.

'This is the game in life,

The game that everyone loves to play.

Unfortunately, I am the fallen victim..

I am scared, I won't be able to stay.'

She began to get louder which made me panic but afterwards she calmed down:

'Everyone seems to enjoy this game,

In smiles, they've all said bad things to me,'

They said I deserve to die,

I cry with tears that they don't see.'

'The pain I feel is undescribable,

The shadows have revealed my angel wings,

I knew that this was the end..

Above me, the noose swings.'

'This is the game of hangman,

The rope tied around my neck, it made me cry..

because they said cruel and wrongful words to me,

and I'm the one who has to die..'

She didn't get the meaning, though, I'm glad she doesn't. It will hurt her. She has been here since she was 2 years old and thinks we are her actual family. I didn't want to make her cry but I'm sure she has, even if it wasn't about me. "Open the door, pleaseeee!" She begged, shaking the handle. I sighed sadly and stood up, moving to on my bed. "Phee, Mommy still has the key. The poem didn't work." I answer, reaching under my bed for a bag. "B-but.. you said the key will appear.." She sadly mumbled, you could hear movement from behind the door, then she began whining. "Pleaseeeee!" She began to drag out her words and didn't stop begging. "Look, look.. Go downstairs, to the front door, okay? I'll meet you there."