How I adopted my best friends | benchtrio

2. Living among the scraps 🧨

Tw: mentions of violence, swearing

Tommy's POV 🧨

I sat on the little bench in the park, rifling through my day's findings. It had been a long day searching for something edible, and finally I'd struck gold.

At the bottom of my carrier bag was an entire packet of bagels. I desperately wanted to throw them at people (it's a canon event) but my hunger came first.

The bagels needed to be toasted but that didn't matter. I tore open the packet and almost swallowed the first bagel whole. I should've kept the rest of them for later. I should have.

But I didn't. I ate them all in one go.
That was my first meal in two days. I could sense the people around me clocking my desperateness. Maybe it was my filthy face, or my skinny wrists which were my biggest insecurity, but I could tell everyone was looking at me and thinking, "ha, that poor stupid homeless guy!"

And I hated it.

All of this made me so unexplainably angry, I wanted to punch something. I'm sure I have anger issues or something. That's what by brother always said before the incident.

I could feel my hands shaking. I knew I was probably going to flip out and cause some damage soon. I needed a diversion. So I rootled through my carrier bag once more and my hands fell upon my prized possession: my notebook.

It was a scrappy little thing, the kind you'd use as a school jotter with a flimsy cover, but it was all I had. I didn't have anything to write with, so I blundered the streets in a blind rage until I found a broken Biro on the ground.

I sat back down on the bench forcefully, and began writing.

2 December, don't know what year.
Day 301 without Wil.
Day 285 of no home.

I found some bagels today. For once it didn't rain. Which is good because I don't have a raincoat.
I wonder when I'll find somewhere to stay. I miss my brother a lot. He was the only one who made me feel safe. As I've written before, I often get anger spurts out of nowhere, and I don't know how to control it. Kind of like the Hulk, which would be pog if Wil was alive and everything was back to normal.

I was about the rest he Biro on the bench, but I snapped it in half instead. It was one step in the right direction of hurting things, not people.

I didn't want to think about the time I hurt someone..

It was an accident. I truly didn't mean to.
I hurt my friend. One of my closest friends. I really hurt her. My fists just took over; like it wasn't me. Like there was someone else inside of me.

I put her in the hospital. I put her in the fucking hospital. And she almost didn't recover.

She hadn't even done anything wrong. We were arguing over some tiny little thing, I can't even remember what it was. Then I just got so angry, that I hurt her.

I hurt Niki.

Not a day goes by where I don't regret what I did. I barely even remember it properly. All I remember is seeing her through my blurry eyes, lying on the floor with a broken nose. Her glasses fell off her face, her blonde hair was a mess, her beautiful face was screwed up in pain.

She didn't try to fight back.

And now my life's ruined and there's nothing I can do. I'm living on the streets, haunted by my past.

Once again, sorry for the intensity of such an early chapter

Word count: 620