gonna get burnt • patrick hockstetter x oc

01; trashmouth 2.0

*warnings* foul language, bullying
september 21, 1988
7 pm
it's hot. all i can hear is water. the water is hot. it quickly cascades onto me. first, it hits the top of my head, then swiftly and gracefully it spreads farther past my shoulders, soon spreading across my stomach, and finally dripping off where my lower leg ends. serenity could perchance be a word for the effect the water has on me. complete silence. almost eerie and possibly worrisome to some, but not to me. i'm free to completely think about everything and anything for as long as i want. but i don't. i completely wipe away all of my thoughts for this is the only peace i get during my day, and it's sadly going to end and everything will start once more. the droplets of water won't pitter patter on the floor, and i won't be consumed by water; i will be consumed with my thoughts. only my thoughts, for a full 24 hours.

"jesus rose, could you take any longer in there?" the familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"god dammit richie i just got in!" i shouted back to my younger sibling.

"whatever." was all i got in response from the younger boy that everyone says resembles me.

the hot water was gone. the blissfulness was gone when i twisted the handle of the shower to the right and the stream of water turned into microscopic droplets. I wrapped the blush toned towel around my frame and wiped away the fog that accumulated on the mirror. i stared and indulged myself in my features that stared right back at me. my narrow, pale face was being scanned by my tawny and dull eyes. so pale i seemed ill. i was ill.

i busted through the door of the bathroom and greeted the eyes of my curly headed brother. "bathrooms all yours, asswipe." i said as i went to the small sofa in the hallway, to ruffle his messy locks.

"whatever." richie responded as he stomped toward the bathroom.

"rough day?" a chuckle almost burst out, but i managed to refrain it in my mouth.

"yeah but what's new." was all i got in response as the bathroom door was abruptly shut.

richie always acted energetic and humorous but he was much like myself. he had bottled up anger and sadness but never let it out, another thing that we both had in common, except rich had a more effective way of hiding it.

9 pm
as the sun went down the darkness swallowed away my lined piece of paper. strung out sentences which followed one after another and occasional doodles here and there. writing was my safe-haven and helped cure my sadness and was always there when i needed it the most. getting up from the seat on the floor, leaving my perfect setup of pillows and fluffy blankets piled on top of one another. i flicked off the lights, followed by me jumping into my bed and lowering my head underneath the warm, inviting sheets that smelled oddly of lilac, a scent that seemed to follow me even though i don't own anything that could even remotely resemble the smell.

september 22, 1988
6 am

the motion to leave my warm bed every morning was enough to drive me mad. reaching towards my nightstand and grabbing the cool metal can and pouring it into my mouth was for some reason always the start of my morning. the leftover warm liquid slithered its way down my throat as i grimaced at how the warm cherry soda tastes afterwards. yet i still do it, every morning, and now developed a routine.

after i stayed in my bed until the last ten minutes i had to get ready, i got up and got dressed. throwing my white t shirt and a red flannel over my torso, cuffing the bottoms of my blue jeans and lastly tying the bow on my now very old, beaten up converse, i made my way downstairs.

i didn't like my family. obviously i loved them, but i could never connect with them or seem visible to them. maggie and wentworth never understood me, so once rich got older they stopped trying to understand and tried understanding him, as he seemed to be easier to solve. rich recognized how i felt and often shared his distaste in the way our parents seemed to focus in on him, and out on me. this seemed to get him into trouble, more so when he spoke foul words to them, that he just couldn't seem to control. the punishment was not necessarily brutal, but not well thought out either.