Gasoline

Gasoline

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WpMetadataReadOngoing3h 35m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, May 2, 2018
WpInfo
Fiction
Fantasy
"The noise you hear, it's all fuzz. Nothing is clear, just...fuzz. I go to sleep hoping to wake up to something new, only to realize that I can't, that this isn't a nightmare. I see that my friends are slowly dying and they still go on, the machine on the inside rusting. I've realized that the only way to stay sane is to go mad. Were all living off gasoline, all slowly going crazy- and you know it." Once again the room was silent, trying to soak up the words he spoke. The Head spoke slowly and deliberately as if trying not anger the boy.
All Rights Reserved
#161
distopian
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Illustration

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artist: yukima_123 on Twitter/X ⚠️ Content Warning / Trigger Warning This story contains themes that may be distressing to some readers, including: Child abuse / domestic abuse Self-harm and mental health struggles Panic attacks and trauma Homophobia and bullying Emotional manipulation and recovery Reader discretion is advised. If you are struggling or need support, you are not alone - please reach out to someone you trust or contact a local helpline. (For example: In the U.S., you can call or text 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. If you're outside the U.S., visit findahelpline.com for international hotlines.) Sneak peak: The first bell always sounds like it's mocking me. Too bright, too loud, too alive. Everyone in the hall is talking, laughing, bumping shoulders like their world isn't falling apart inside their own homes. Mine is. I keep my head down, hoodie up, sketchbook tight against my chest. Pencil shavings line the edges of my backpack like some kind of armor. If I can just make it to art class without someone calling me "weirdo" or "vampire," it'll be a good day. read more to find out :))

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