8: Papa's Dogs - Collar

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TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLICABLE HERE: Exploitation - SA - Drug Abuse

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June 22

The problem with dual identities is that instead of having one large jar to contain all the mental strain in; there are two smaller, seperate cups. In one cup, there is Angel, the persona Anthony created to deal with all the pain relating with nightwork. In the other cup is Anthony, the boy who strives to become better and wants to become a well-recieved actor.

These two people, Angel and Anthony, are the same person, but like two separate cups, they contain different content. They are filled to the brim with daily life's strain and stress. Sometimes a customer yells and hits Angel's emotional weakspot, this forms into another drop for his emotional cup. Another day Anthony bumps into someone in the metro with an angry Karen and the rest of his day is ruined. That entire negative experience devolves into another drop in Anthony's cup. At the end of every day, these cups slowly empty because the resentment is solved by forgetting it ever happened or forgiving the unfortunate moment.

Not all things are let go easily. Valentino's constant presence kept on filling Angel's cup to the brim and Loona's current disappearance was filling up half Anthony's cup with worry.

And everyone has a limit.

Eventually, one identity can spill, filling the small cabinet that holds the two cups with thoughts, emotions, slippery stress, that it pushes the other cup over, and then the emotions mix.

So when Angel fell against the floor, face red and lip cracked; his cups tipped over and spilled. The constant build up of pressure from the strain, stress and emotion drowned these two little cups. Anthony's anger seeped into Angel's veins.

For the first time, Angel could see clearly and he hated what he saw. Valentino stood over him, hand raised to strike again. If only Angel— Anthony could bite it off.

"Where the fuck have you been? When I call your work phone, you answer, bitch." Valentino snarled.

Angel breathed in and out quietly. Reflexively, he acted like an idiot, a scared bimbo blonde, but in reality all that Angel-Anthony could feel was rage. His constricted throat and burning fingertips waited for action.

There were so many ways Anthony could kill this man. He could wrap his hands around his neck and choke him. Anthony could close his jaw on Valentino's throat and rip it out. Anthony could go for his eyes, stomp on his dick, and burn Valentino's coat and then Valentino himself alive with that pink lighter he carried around.

Anthony was the son of a mafia man... and taught by a police officer.

He could fucking slaughter Valentino in the blink of the eye and none would be the wiser.

Fight for what you want but don't let them make you into shit. You're not shit.

Angel stared bullets into Valentino's skin, batting his blonde eyelashes.

"I'm so sorry Val— life has been busy working at the supermarket. They all want me." Angel said.

"Really? I might have fallen for that trick for ages, but you don't work at that supermarket. I've checked, princessa."

"I'm such an idiot. I never think straight~ y'know the only thing i was craving all day was a nice sausage to smack my lips on," Angel laughed nervously.

Valentino snarled, "Stop lying to me bitch. What the fuck have you been doing these five past months? You know, you should always tell daddy things to daddy."

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