Learning how to let go ~ karlnap

chapter two ~ shiver

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Song:rises the moon-Liana Flores

Sorry it's been a while. Ummm, second part because I have nothing else to post. Also hi! Again, um I'm lacking social interaction
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TW:heavy mention of su1c1de, su1c1de, dr0wning
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/third person pov/

Immense pain crawled over Karl’s skin as he felt his eyelashes flutter slowly open. Which was a relieving feeling, meaning he had been able to shut his eyes before and sleep without being trapped in the cold cage of nightmares. But the feeling was short lived, for the sharp sting of his head reminded him of the events that occurred the previous day. It wasn’t the lonely nights or the cleaning up that pained the boy. But the mornings where he felt his breath shallow in his lungs, like the puddles of water left after rain, evaporating in the burning rays of sunlight. It was as if Karl had experienced alcohol very heavily last night and woke in the worst hangover, but the pain wasn’t just limited to his mind and gut, it ventured to his limbs. They ached with unrecognisable amounts of pain, throbbing and tender.

But despite the cold and the constant reminder of previous events, Karl managed to draw in a shaky breath, chilling his blood as it circulated into his lung. It was weird how the cold air could not only freeze your throat but burn it. To feel the rawness, shrivel in the presence of pure stinging heat. But who was to say it was really hot? Karl thought deeply, maybe it was just a trick, a placebo, letting the brain believe the cold had turned warmer by being exposed to it for such long measures, to barricade off the stress the brain couldn’t deal with. Or maybe, the brain thought the dramatic changes of temperature were more punishing, letting it thrive in pain. Thinking, Karl sighed in a small gasp, he couldn’t give up the minimum amount of air going to his lungs. Maybe it was better not to think. So that was exactly what Karl did. He stopped thinking. Instead he let his eyes wander mindlessly over the cracks splitting in the corners of the room’s ceiling. Dividing paint and causing a crevasse of darkness to emerge from such pureness.

Soon, his had matched the throbbing of his ribs, in sync to an uneven pattern, much like the repetitive crash of the shoreline breaking on the beach. Nothing but the sound of waves. Nothing but the feeling of pain. Although laying there. Karl felt slightly exposed, his shirt was so thin he felt his eyes drag along the naked skin of his scar littered stomach. It was revolting, it was disturbing, but it was the truth. Although it didn’t stop Karl from feeling repulsed by his own body image. Bright red blush hit his cheeks, burning his face with intense heat that almost matched the feeling of his throat. It was embarrassing, he looked embarrassing.

Suddenly shaken by the thought of his mother walking in to tell him to wake up or his own wandering eyes viewing his mangled skin, the boy unsteadily swung the covers off his body, already feeling the goose-bumps plague his skin. From there it was easy, for Karl found he didn’t get warm by just sitting on his bed, letting the chilled air soak into his dried-out skin. So, he hastily made his way across the room, opening his cupboard widely, his eyes flicking over all his clothes. Even though Karl had endless amounts of clothing, he always had his preferred outfit, something that went easy on his stomach and hung loose at the waist. Swiftly, making light work of his rather unorganised cupboard, Karl brought out the green sweater and a pair of grey sweats. The sweater was worn down till it was thin and fraying on the edges, the battered fabric was almost see-through in some spots from Karl’s rough love for the sweater. Fortunately, the grey sweats were in better nick, only sporting the odd dent or hole in the material. He didn’t need to look his best. No one noticed him anyway, and if they did, they forgot about him as quickly as they saw him.

Removing his sleep wear carefully, managing not to slide the shirt roughly over his head or his shorts harshly across his legs, Karl was able to put on the sweater and sweats. Karl adjusted it till it hung on his body symmetrically. Letting out a visible puff of air he managed to close his cupboard, his eyes darting over to his next task, a small comb perching dangerously close on the edge of his bedside table. Karl was normally kind to his belongings, treating them carefully but somehow when his head hurts from knocks, gashes and a mix of disappointment, things around his room become displaced. Like his phone, laying across the floor, the dark black screen facing upwards displaying the damage of surviving being possibly flung from Karl’s mess of a bed. Its screen slightly chipped at the edges with multiple jagged lines across the screen.