Before He was Rosy Cheeks

when a new hobby starts

unedited.
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The boy found himself walking around as if in a trance for the next few weeks. Everyday was the same, so much so that he didn't even know the date. He felt like a robot, doomed to keep repeating the same menial tasks for eternity.

The numbness was coming back, becoming so overwhelming to him, the meds his mother pressed into his palm every morning had finally kicked into full gear.

He hated them.

He hated how he couldn't sleep more than an hour or so a night even though his eyelids were always heavy. He hated that any time he ate his stomach churned and that dizziness took a constant hold on him. He hated how nervous he felt every second of the day. 

Worst of all he hated how dull the medicine made his mind feel.

On a particularly bad night, he was lying on his back, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling with memories flooding through his head. The way his sisters had looked at each other mischeviously before they tried to tackle him to the ground (even though they were a little more than half his size). That day they went to the amusement park and got sick to their stomachs from all the cotton candy and rollercoasters. The times when they had a nightmare or couldn't sleep, so they came and slept in his room. The laughter, the jokes, the arguments. All of it seemed like it was just yesterday to the boy.

While tears rolled down his cheeks, he found himself scratching roughly at his arms, fighting the urge to use something sharper. The memories were horrendous, just like the monster he was.

Soon he was a sobbing, red armed mess. Some of his scars had opened slightly, and the red frightened him. He couldn't do this to his mother again, she couldn't know he was losing it.

Without thinking about it much, he managed to get himself to the drawer where he had thrown his art supplies from the therapist and returned back to his bed. The panic filled boy wrapped his blanket tightly around himself and began to sketch away at the paper in front of him.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been drawing when he finished, but when he leaned back to take it in, there was a sense of peace within him.

Looking at up at him from the paper, were his sisters. They were smiling their large grins and giving bunny ears to their unsuspecting father who was kneeling beside them.

The boy's fingers traced their faces lightly, not wanting to smudge the graphite upon the paper.

It was then that something dawned on him:

Drawing had drowned out his overbearing thoughts.

And it was his sister's doing, as all he had wanted was to see their faces again. They were still looking after their big brother, they still loved him.

The boy fell asleep not long after his realization, with the open sketchbook resting on the pillow next to him. Just like the old days, except this time, they were there to scare his nightmares away.

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-xx