reason to change ♡ daddy issues sequel

haunted

combat neurosis shys from indica strands
and it breaks my mother's
heart to know i came back broken
with the thought of my arms spilt open
➳

on a particularly dreary morning somewhere in may, gloom-filled clouds gave way so the tiniest bit of sun illuminated vic's room. he woke up with a start.
sweat pooled at his temple (for which he confused as rain, seeing as that he always left the window cracked just enough for the scent it left afterwards) as he tried to get his heart rate back to normal. a nightmare. of what, he couldn't remember. all he knew was that it was frightening.

turning over to face the window, something other than succulents and candles lining the pane met his gaze. a black moth, fluttering against the glass and then joining him in the warmth of his bedroom.
that's how he knew today would be plagued by bad luck.

superstitious? a little. clinking of mugs and the rich aroma of coffee greeted the brunette upon stepping into the kitchen. he found out it was the afternoon. late afternoon, because his mom was watching judge judy in next room.
3:27 pm. moths don't hang around in the mornings.

"why didn't you wake me up?" vic called out as he untied a bag of cinnamon-raisin bread. two slices for him, two for his mom. he hummed along to a touché amore song as they went in to the toaster.
"didn't wanna piss you off!" his mom cackled from the sunroom. the laughing became louder as vic approached the room.

the sunroom.
his second favorite place in the whole house. this house held memories, deeply rooted under the ground like the pines swallowing the state. there were wildflowers, and just random flowers that had names vic couldn't remember surrounded the room in a way that made it look like you were sitting in the grass. the only thing keeping you from picking petals was the wall separating home from wilderness.

rhododendron shrubs, pleated gentians and the occasional lavender. he had no idea how it got there, maybe his mom planted them. they brought bees. andy was afraid of bees.

vic remembered being 7, crawling on the wood because he was playing bugs after watching a disney movie about them. he was an ant. his cousin was the caterpillar.

a dip in the flooring made him lose his balance, he tipped to the left as his knee met the center of it. sunlight overhead made him warm all over. he could hear his cousin giggling from the hall as she tried to catch up.
"c'mon! we have to fight the grasshoppers!" vic announced bravely. his nose brushed the glass as he stared at the foliage just outside. reaching up to his hair he played with a barrette she gave him earlier.
it'll make you look pretty. my mommy said so.

"but what if we get eaten?" the girl played along, pigtails swinging as she sped up. she was on vic's right now. her hand pointed to a shape on the glass only they could see.
"don't worry, princess atta will save you!" vic giggled—nose crinkling as he laughed. he pointed to himself, taking on a heroic look.

"you're not a princess. stop playing with girls."
a large hand rougly grabbed at his arm, forcing him to his feet. the words were slightly slurred; nauseating like the scent of rotting flesh. only this voice could make vic's skin crawl. a voice only belonging to his father. drunk again. he got meaner when he was drunk.
"eres un nina?" the voice boomed.
are you a girl?

angry fingertips dug harshly into his skin. later that evening they'd turn to bruises, serving as a reminder of this moment. "are you?"
fingers dug deeper. widening his eyes, vic immediately shook his head.
"papa.."
tiny, but drenched in fear. this wasn't the first time he got chewed out for something like this and each time was even scarier than the last.
"just be quiet." his father spat. his palm met vic's bicep, stinging his skin as the sound of impact startled the girl sitting next to him.