" SHE TRIED TO DROWN HER DEMONS BUT THEY LEARNED HOW TO SWIM. "
hr; 1# in 2017
10# in 'it'
[coinsundercouches > 2017 ]
an; i wrote this when i was twelve so please forgive me for the grammar and plot !! pls read the next story this one is w...
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I stood there, emotionless. Why was he only addressing me?
"I won't hurt you, now." The clown said, twiddling his large finger closely to my face.
"I've let you go twice. I wont kill you now. I'll kill you soon, but not now." He grinned.
I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I was just in shock. This was real, all of this was real.
"And for the rest of you." The clown snickered, raising his hand as sharp, scaly, clawed nails peaked out through the white fabric.
"You must have so many questions." He continued, turning in circles, inspecting each kid slowly and detailedly.
"But I don't like to bore you with all of that stuff. So I might as well let this," He said, raising a small glass of red liquid, "Do the talking." He finished before breaking the bottle in half with only his two fingers as red liquid powder flew everywhere.
It was blinding. My entire eyesight was just red. It flew in the air, and the only thing I was able to see were my hands, the wall behind me and Thomas.
Eventually, the red fog died down and the clown was gone. Everyone was holding onto someone, fearing what would've came out from that dust. But fortunately, it was nothing.
"What the hell!" Thomas shouted, his voice squeaking,"I can't do this!" tears flew down his face.
I placed my hand on his shoulder as he quickly brushed it off.
"I'm bringing Ben with me, and we're leaving." Thomas said sternly.
"He obviously isn't well enough to get up" Ella marked.
Thomas cut in harshly, "he's got down before, he could manage himself."
"Thomas, stay." I said. He turned a blind eye to me.
"Please, for me." I said, noticing another tear fall down his freckled cheek.
"We won't be able to beat this." Thomas said, looking up at the group, "I won't be able to defeat him." He said.
I shook my head, "No, Thomas. C'mon, we can do it together. All of us. We have the numbers."
I felt bad for him. We put him in this situation. We should've just let him go the instant we met him. We should've told him he was just imagining things.
Honestly, I knew how he felt. Looking into the eyes of whatever was just tooling with me was more traumatic than any fight my parents had. Accepting the fact that in one swipe, I could have died, was harder than any second chance I took in asking my father a simple question.
