Victim of The Crystals [[Old Version]]

Shattered Of What Little Owned

Was it sad to think he actually wanted to be dead and gone? Wouldn't be the first time.
What even was the path to a good life? Not his. Whether he liked it or not, he wasn't gonna get better. As weeks passed, he wasn't ever gonna recover from what he's been afraid of... but he didn't know what he was afraid of.. what's the point of fearing if it's not rational? Life is like a game, a game that no matter how hard you try, you can't win. Every attempt in the past was.. pointless.

The fox had gained consciousness, barely. His head throbbed, feeling like a knife being stabbed in and out of his head. He was surprised he wasn't dead, he was surprised he didn't just give out at that very moment. Given that he could practically leave when he wanted to, he always managed to get food from somewhere. Granted, his legs were basically paralyzed as soon as he got up to leave. He didn't want to leave the place he so called home because maybe, just maybe, he'd be safe. But that was least likely to happen. He tried leaning onto the log pile next to him for extra support, the weight under him making him feel more weak then normal.

He had finally gotten up from the blood soaked grass, his clothes evident of his blood loss. Every step he taken made the pain much worse then the second before. He just wanted to get rest and most importantly, get help. But knowing TowerBurk, the all so flawed neighbourhood he lived in, he wouldn't get one chance at all. The town's people were much worse, but the fox knew he'd never get help from them. He eventually got tired of walking so he started to weakly leap, leaping to every patch of grass until he saw lights and the starting of a side walk. This followed on until he made his way to a cafe. People surrounded the outside of the small building, tables and chairs all lined up outside and the sound of vigorous chatter surrounding the place as a whole. Lights hung from various perches that surrounded the cafe, making it seem almost romantic.

The fox's left ear twitched as he heard the chatter, the chatter of humans. Every person there looked like they were enjoying themselves, something the fox could never quite do. With each step he took closer, the anxiety shot up in him like a mad bullet. What if these humans were just just like his parents? They surely didn't have bushy tails, pointy ears, or long snouts. But those were dignifying qualities that his devilish parents did indeed own. They were just.. regular everyday people. Some rich, some in the middle, poor people nowhere in sight, but they had no money so what would they be doing in a place like this? He kept contemplating whether or not to just leave and find food somewhere else, but his stomach said otherwise as it let out a growl indicating that he had no other chance. So, with all the courage he could muster up in his tiny body, he let out a breathy sigh and lurched forward into the packed crowed of people and into the cafe.

The place was packed, but he eventually made it to the ordering stand. He almost got stepped on a few times, other times he stumbled to the ground due to his lack of balance and strength. To say the least, in the eyes of a five year old, the place looked massive. He tried pushing out a chair from one of the tables that were surprisingly not occupied, but him being lacklustre to even try was showing. He glanced back at the cashier and realized that all he'd need to do is just get his attention. He paced over to the ordering stand and jumped up, lunging his arms onto the wooden stand. His legs dangled as he tried to keep himself from falling harshly to the ground. The cashier looked pretty confused and almost baffled at the fact that a fox had managed to get into the building.

Foxy sighed, not really great at forming woods when talking to others, but if he wanted food he'd have to earn it, even if he was far from normal literate levels.

"G-Got any sc-scraps?" Foxy breathed out, his stuttering refusing to leave.

"Scarps, as in leftover food?" The young cashier implied to the fox that hung off the stand placed directly in front of him.

"Yes" Foxy answered subconsciously, really just wanting to eat food and replenish his energy.

As much as the cashier wanted to question why a fox had simply walked into the cafe, and started talking to him, he needed to do his job.

Foxy ended up walking out of the cafe feeling slightly better after he had something to eat, even if it wasn't much. The fox couldn't argue over a free meal after all. He started to walk back home. Unlike last time, he could actually keep his balance for once. Every breath he took made his chest build up in pain. Every time he turned his head or even moved it in the slightest, he'd be met with a excruciating headache. He was finally "home", more like hell if he was being completely honest with himself. He went back to the log pile and he sat down, staring off into space as he thought about nothingness. More weeks passed as this same routine carried on, and there was no telling when it would stop or change.

On the subject of his parents, he didn't know much about them. They rarely ever talked to him and he saw that as their way of telling him they could give zero fucks about his wellbeing. The small moments they did share together were when his father was either abusing him or when his mother was throwing viscous comments at him and his laziness. He wished he knew the answer to why they treated him like this, all the contemplation he'd deal mentally just on the subject made him think about more things and possibilities. Like, would he ever meet someone who wouldn't glance at him and scoff, would he ever meet someone who would care about him for more then two seconds? Those chances seemed very slim as his hope faded. His father, as he presumed name was Reynold, was a business man. He worked for some company beyond Foxy's understanding. But what he did know was that whatever it was his father was working for, it wasn't necessarily the greatest thing he could be doing, it leaned more on the illegal side of the spectrum. His mom, Kathy, wasn't any different. She worked from home which made sense since she barely left the house on her free time.

Foxy felt like he was losing himself, that was until he heard a loud CRASH noise, followed by a BANG and a misty blue coloured flash in the night sky. At first he didn't know what to think of it, was he the only person who heard that, or no? He stumbled off the ground and ran to where the flash came from, but he genuinely wished he hadn't turned the corner.

There lay the bodies of his parents, blood and all. Was he dreaming this? Were they just unconscious or something? Nothing added up, but why the hell was he caring about the parents who never loved him! So many questions exploded in his mind at once. He backed up subconsciously and fell down from not controlling himself quick enough. His emotions were very screwed up, and his expression was one of a confused but lost one. He felt sick to his stomach, almost like he could vomit out what little he had that was left in his stomach, like he hadn't vomited it all out before. He had lost his only family, even if they didn't treat him like one. What was he supposed to do now? Find someone would care for his sorrowful self? Sure, he's gotten by on his own, but damnit, he was only five.

He heard the sound of police sirens in the distance, and they were coming straight for the house. He thought about running away, but he couldn't just run away now, maybe he could get help. He hid until the police men checked all of the scene, but it was weird a ambulance didn't show up as well, considering there could have been injured people. He couldn't handle it anymore, and he blacked out from the stress of the situation.