Slit My Wrists And Bleed Me Dry

1

T.W.: blood

Tommy didn't know exactly what was happening. He hadn't been alive long enough to see a sacrifice to the gods, let alone old enough to know what a sacrifice was. So when the adults came to get him, pulling him out of the orphanage and out to the rest of the town, he was smiling ear to ear.

The adults gave him new clothes of deep red and gold and white. They adorned him with emeralds and rubies. Gave him toys to keep him occupied as they bathed him in the finest soaps. Not that Tommy knew anything they did was special. Nor did he care. He was just happy for the attention.

Tommy didn't see the few pitying looks that were thrown his way as he was marched through the village. He just played with the toy he was given. It was a little wooden block with the gods symbols on it. A crown with a sword. A music note on a shakey swirl. And a pair of wings. There were two pictures on either side of the block, so all the gods could be seen no matter how you turned it.

At one point, Tommy dropped the block. He tried to pick it back up, but the adults dragged him away. Tommy started whining that he wanted the block back. The adults ignored him, pulling him towards the gate.

When Tommy saw where they were leading him, he forgot about the block. They never let him outside the village. What was waiting out there for Tommy to explore? He couldn't wait to find out.

The sun was starting to sink down below the mountains by the time they made it out of the gate. Just outside was a stone table. The adults set Tommy up on the slab. It was cold and mossy under Tommy's hands.

The adults took out knives, saying prayers that Tommy didn't listen to. The boy was too busy playing with the gold chains and gems around his arms. He was starting to get tired, wondering when he was going to be able to go home.

Tommy's arm was grabbed. Before he could react, the adult slid the knife over his wrist, making a deep gash. Tommy screamed, kicking and squirming away. It hurt to much, and there was so much blood. He cried out for them to stop as the same treatment was given to his other arm.

Tommy sobbed, begging for them to stop, to help him, to do something. When he tried to follow them back to the village, the adults simply picked him up and set him back on the table.

Blood covered his clothes as he cried. It hurt so bad, he just wanted it to stop. The sun sunk lower and lower in the sky. Tommy had layed down by now, to tired and cold to move. He felt dizzy and thirsty, as if he had cried out all the water in his little body. Tommy didn't know what was going on. He didn't know what death was. All he knew is that he wanted to sleep so very much.

Then someone warm gently grabbed him. Tommy rolled to his back to look up at the person. White and pink fuzzy shapes hovered over him. Two glowing dots stared right at him, flickering like fire.

They swiped a finger over his bleeding wrists. Tommy whimpered at the motion. The person froze, their glowing flames flicked up to Tommy's face. They leaned over Tommy.

"You're alive." They hummed, deep and low, "the village did this to you."

Tommy sniffled. It hurt to move. He just wanted it to stop. The person brought his wrist up to their mouth, gently kissing the wound.

"Your blood will fuel their downfall." They said.

Then they picked up Tommy, light in their warm arms. Tommy didn't know what happened next. All he knew is that he was warm, and it didn't hurt so much anymore.