𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝?~~ Madness Combat oc lore

·17·

The things I saw in that house got dark really fast. It alarmed me and honestly I was scared. Really fuckin' scared. I didn't know who owned the things in that room and why they were even there, but I was too terrified to even ask. My assumptions at the time were the only thing I had, and the only thing I have to this day. Of course nobody will know if they were right because of.. reasons. But I will tell you one thing, I've got a good guess who put those there now.

Lined neatly along the walls were sharp weapons, knives, katanas, machetes, all kinds of them. And on another wall were guns. So many, big and small, just neatly set up on the wall. And on another was ammo. Who put all this here? The boy stood in the room with a dumbfounded expression, not ever seeing something like this before. His eyes slowly trailed over every detail of the room. He was scared, yes, but not very. He found it slightly fascinating. Until he saw something. A golden glare of light caught his eye. Inside a case there was a revolver sitting on the wall. It looked to be a very valuable gun, at least by the way it was displayed compared to the other firearms here in this small room. Yeah.. maybe he didn't want to break down in here. He couldn't keep his eyes off that case though. The revolver seemed to be similar to the one he had used before. The one he fired to kill his mother. It was a bigger version of it basically, and he stared intently at it. He looked out into the living room and the kitchen once again to make sure he was alone, and went further into the room to inspect it. Then he felt the stinging in his hand. Why did the pain come so late? He looked down at his bleeding palm and moved out of the room, flicking off the light switch. He shut the door and walked quickly to the sink. He turned the water on and stood there with the cut under the running water. Silently. He let the hiss of the stream of water play a lullaby for him. It brought back memories. Just the sound of the water. It matched the sound of the water from his old home when he would wash the dishes. When his mom would cook. When.. Gah-- this is getting overwhelming.

Alex turned off the water and wrapped a paper towel on his hand, walking to the bathroom. It wasn't bleeding as much anymore thankfully. He bandaged the cut up and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. The cool, smooth, clean tub greeted him with open arms. He stayed there for a moment and thought about things. The door was locked in front of him as he was shut inside the room. Like he used to be, always shut inside a room. Alone. Nobody to cry to, no one to bother. It was so nice yet so harsh at the same time. The silence of the room welcomed him like any other room did. Like his old home did. This is what home feels like, at least to Alex. It surely wasn't a pleasant feeling, but it did remind him of one thing. He won't be able to go back to the home that made that feeling in the first place.

This was all his fault.

He did this.

He killed them.

Look at what you've done.

Look at what you've done.

This was getting all so overwhelming, it deeply disturbed Alex. He hated it. He hated every second of it. The swarm of thoughts that stabbed his mind didn't go away, they spun and wound up his mind unrelentingly. They got worse and worse. He never realized how much his life had traumatized and scarred him. He never took the time to recognize what was wrong with him. And right now it was all hitting him at once like a brick wall slammed into his face. He felt the pain of his physical injuries worsen with every thought, his mental pain double. He still sat on the edge of this tub, silent. He started breathing funny, and he felt a lump in his throat. He tried to keep it down but just.. couldn't. He wasn't capable of doing so. He tried coughing to get it out but that just resulted in him starting to cry. Tears rolled down his cheeks in a matter of no time, staining his skin with the salty feeling of regret.

The awful memories didn't stop there, though. The world around him seemed to drown itself out, slowly and painfully so. It distorted and formed into a more familiar world. Echoes of the voices from his past haunted him, the ringing in his ears from when he pulled that trigger, sliced with that knife, the multiple times he heard the slamming of his door, it all rang loudly in his mind. The flood of emotions was drowning all sense of logic, anything and everything was replaced with things that weren't even real anymore. They can't happen again. It's impossible. What are you even worrying for?

The stream of hot tears still continued to flow carefully down the pale gray cheeks of the boy, he looked so meek and frail when he was vulnerable like this. Who knew that such a tough and relentless child could seem so soft and easy to take advantage of, so quickly too. He was just glad that no one saw him like this, otherwise he'd be screwed. He couldn't show that he was soft, that he could be broken, that even the tough guys break down too. He couldn't let anyone see or hear how absolutely terrified he really was. How scared he constantly is. How much he just wants to go home. All he wants is to start again, and live a better life.

But, alas, like I always say. You don't always get what you want, now do you, Alex?