Hawkeye~short stories~

Yellow Dress

This is a 2,686 word story about Clint's childhood involving a yellow dress.
Warning: Involves murder. mentions of domestic violence, abuse.
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The pigments of yellow, so bright and new. Like he'd never seen them before, but that wasn't true. They were different, but he'd seen them before. The different shades of yellow were a stark contrast to the dark and stained red.

A soft yellow, a warming color that if it were made out of sunlight it could bring warmth to a body. The yellow dress now only drew the cold, weeping tears and screams of pain. It was so very delicate but then it was torn, bloodied and taken from life's grasp. The light, the warmth, was taken and was replaced with anger and violence.

-

Clint sat on the steps of the old wooden steps, bright red and blue lights contrasted the black night sky and chatter lit the space around him. He couldn't remember how he got suddenly there. Clint kept staring at his bare feet, never looking up to see any of the uniformed persons walk past him. He was stuck staring at a weed that had grown from the dry dirt that made the decent sized pathway from the fence to the house.

Around the path were scattered areas of grass, the patches few inches high and they were mainly yellow at the tips. The fence which was around seven meters away was rusting away and the gate squeaked every so often a person entered or exited through it. The clanging sound echoed in Clint's ears, they were faint enough for him to not notice it but they were there. The footsteps coming and going put him on edge, but he didn't...couldn't leave his home no matter how broken it was.

His mind kept recounting the moment, but all he wanted to do was erase it from his memory, for it to be burned from his brain. He remembers the pigments on the floor, washed in with the red but he remembers. The white floor under the dress which he cleaned that day dirtied with pools of scarlet. Clint stood in the door frame directly in front of the dress, he couldn't move, like gravity held his feet down to that spot.

In his little hands, a scruffy and mangled teddy bear which his mother had made for him fell to the ground. Clint, still sitting on the steps couldn't remember anything apart from the yellow dress, the color red and feeling cold. He didn't know why he felt cold, there was no cool wind but his skin crawled with short bursts of coldness like and his body had slowly fallen into shivering.

His arms were around his body in a cocoon to savor warmth but it the bitter freeze did not alleviate. Clint wanted to run. To run away from the stained image of the yellow dress, from the bruised prints left on his skin from his father. He wanted to run away with his brother...Barney. Barney. He wasn't there, he ran off after their father had let his anger overcome all of his senses.

Barney ran...and left him, Clint began panicking, his brother wasn't there to make sure he was alright. Barney promised Clint he would never leave him alone, but there Clint sat, on the steps to his house alone. Suddenly he felt a small pressure placed on his shoulder and instantly flinched at the touch. He reminded himself of the steps Barney told him to follow when he was in a situation that made him feel unsafe.

1. Look around your surroundings.

Clint lifted his head and surveyed the area around him, the stingy fence was highlighted by bright lights from several cars. The cars faced the house with their lights shone upon the house, his eyes stung when he looked at the headlights to long. Instead he focused his attention to the hand of his shoulder, it felt warm against his t-shirt, the grasp wasn't rough or made out of anger but comfort.