just a little note: ( HUGE HUGE HUGE TW for the beginning of the chapter! once the font completely, and i mean completely goes from "font" to "font" then the tw no longer applies. )
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❝ and you got me like , oh- what do you want from me? and i tried to buy your pretty heart, but the price too high.. ❞
***
𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧'𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐯. 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.
"mamá?"
the soft whisper of the boy who rarely spoke, much less english, fell on the deaf ears of the lady he had intended to hear. perhaps it was the loud blaring of the tv that drained his quiet voice out, or maybe it was the way that his half-conscious mother was too busy tapping her long, sharp nail against the syringe she held in her hand to acknowledge him. the little boy had seen that before, thought he didn't quite know what it was; all that he knew was that she stabbed it into her arm quite frequently and didn't want to play games or do a puzzle for quite a long time afterwards.
truth told, he knew he shouldn't have been there. it was after seven o' clock, which meant that coming out of his room was the wrong choice because at eight, his stepfather's loud, drunken friends came over. the last time he had seen the "friends", he had been left with scars- of both kind- but thankfully, they were absent tonight.
still, he figured that one favor would be okay.
"mamá?" indigo asked, brushing aside his long, back length black curls. the little boy dressed in nothing but a tee and shorts despite the freezing weather held sheers in his hands, cautiously walking towards the ragged couch that smelled of mothballs, just like the carpet smelled of cigarettes and whatever dirt had forced itself between the cracks and crevices. the six year old, who was quite small yet chubby for his age, meekly peaked over the side of his couch, his heart dropping into his stomach as he spotted exactly what he didn't want to.
"i see you. come out."
the boy's large eyes peered over at the man who sat on the couch, staring directly at him as he approached with the scissors in his hand. his mother seemed to say nothing, simply watching as indigo looked anywhere but his stepfather, who's red eyes seemed to pierce directly into him. she sighed, sitting down the syringe before glancing down at her long, sharp red acrylics- for someone so wicked, she sure was beautiful.
"the hell are you doing up? i thought i told you to get in the damn bed." the man spat, his voice full of nothing but distaste towards the young boy. "mamá cuts my hair." the six-year old blurted in distress before looking over at his mother who's eyes were on him yet could not see him- she couldn't see much, not with how high she was. the boy grew increasingly nervous- without her, facing his stepdad would be ten times more worse. "mom cuts your hair," the man repeated in a questioning snicker before lighting a cigarette. "is that right?"
