Mutant Busters: Insomniac Hell

Chapter Six. Jump

Tw Swearing
Once again if I missed anything, please tell me.
Notes at the end!
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As a kid, I was often ignored. I didn't mind it, the ignorance of my parents. This gave me time to paint, to create worlds with oil based colours. Make something of the empty canvas in front of me. This always made me happy. Never ceased to amaze me how I had such a knack for art. Of course my dad wasn't approving of this talent, but the townsfolk loved my work. That was my first gig, art.

'It's been three days since I got here. I made two friends, Shooter and Patches. Shooter is a raven haired guy with somewhat golden eyes, while Patches, Patches is a rat.' I wrote. 'Many little things have happened since then. Shooter cut my hair, and learned to slightly overcome his fear of rats.' I chuckled to myself. 'I'm sure you'd like him mum. He's very caring and kind, but fronts as a violent, cold killer.' I thought a little bit. 'Would it be wrong to say I trust him? Hopefully not, he cares too much to betray me. And Patches is a rat, I doubt he'd betray me!' I wrote. 'That's all, most of my wounds have healed, so I'll have to pick up a part time gig again, maybe I'll paint again? Love your favourite son, Jimmy.' I finished my letter off. I felt his presence return.

"Favourite? Excuse me?" Ryan said somewhat annoyed. I looked at him with a face of annoyance. I pulled out an old letter that read at the top, 'My Favourite Son, Jimmy'.

"That's bull. Absolute bull." Ryan stuttered. The fact I proved I was the favourite must have given him quite the shock. As kids, he'd always have the upper hand as I was too afraid to speak up, now I could match his tone and throw punches twice as hard.

"Mum doesn't lie. Now can you deliver my mail or not?" I asked. He smiled as the black silhouette changed to grey. It's good to see he still has empathy. I gave him the letter and he vanished. After all these years with dad, I didn't expect him to still have mercy on me.

"Excuse me what the fuck?" Someone said from the otherside of the room. Can you guess who? If you guessed Shooter, you'd be half right. Patches is there too, on his shoulder.

"Just the mailman!" I laughed at my own joke. I wasn't wrong. Ryan would deliver letters to mum, and she'd write back.

"That bastard is the mailman? For what? Traitors?!" Shooter yelled annoyed. I realised I hadn't told him anything about home or Ryan.

"No, The mailman for the dead. He delivers letters to my mum because he knows mum will whoop his ass if he doesn't." I said, trying to explain my situation.

"So, your mums dead, your brothers dead and you can still talk to them?" Shooter asked, clearly confused. I guess he didn't lose anyone to insomnia.

"My whole family is dead, but I still talk to my mum. Ryan just so happens to be an ass some days." I said, answering his question. I stood up, now being allowed to walk. I was going to grab a drink, but I guess not. Shitshot was quick to pick me up.

"We have to go check you in. You can get a drink at the bar." He said, walking down the stairs. Now this time I can say it. I can say it and it might actually work.

"I can-" Before I finished my sentence, I was dropped down the stairs. Soon after my unfortunate tumble, I reached the end. I don't think I can walk anymore. Shooter stared into my soul, expecting me to stand, to walk.

"I think you broke my leg." I yelled. He ran down and quickly kneeled down. That's when I took my chance.

*SLAP*

Shooter stumbled back. I glared at him with the utmost rage. He held his cheek as he stood up and walked over to me. I stood my ground. Figuratively. I can't actually stand.