Is there any hope left for someone broken? {Ella}
Feb 9, 2014 15:47:18 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2014 15:47:18 GMT -5
I am alive, barely
✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥
"Someone talking"
"Someone thinking"
Everyday was a struggle for Felix Colton. The remainder of his family hated him and gave him a daily beating just to remind him of the tragedy he'd caused. After all, after years of believing everything was his fault; their deaths were his fault, he knew it must be true. He was a failure and each day something knew reminded him of that. Whether it was the fact that his friends had given up on him or the fact that he could not longer talk to people, there was always something. He would often ask himself, "What did I really do to deserve this? It wasn't all my fault." Then he'd remind himself of everything he's ever done wrong and that fateful day before he realised what a silly thing it was to ask.
He wished more than anything that he could go back to that day and change what happened. Change it so much so that his mother and sister survive the attack. Yet he knew that even if he could do the impossible, he would never be able to change a thing. He would always be forced into running away because, after all, he was too much of a weakling to really put put up much of a fight. He would always be the weak link in the family, and it couldn't be made more obvious by his remaining family.
It had been a horrid night. He'd tried to hide away in his room for as long as he could, but eventually he was called downstairs where his father and two twin brothers were drinking away their sorrows of the day. As soon as he stepped into the room he was sneered at, with every foul name flung his way. He cowered away from it, backing himself up into the wall to make him appear smaller than he already is. It was at moments like those that he wished he could disappear. Things took a nasty turn, just like always, about half an hour later. Punches and kicked started to replace the degrading words due to their speech becoming too slurred to be coherent. He was left that night to crawl back up the stairs to his room, and collapse on his bed before his conscious state left him.
That morning he'd woken up in blood encrusted sheets and a bruised, broken body. He sighed to himself, "Just like normal." He was used to the abused state his body woke up in every morning, but people didn't realise that no matter however much he appeared broken physically, his emotional state was far, far worse. He managed to clean himself up, regardless of the strain it put on his exhausted body, before he snuck out of the house for the day. He couldn't be seen at home for longer than necessary; which meant for him that a lot of the time he went without food for days on end.
He liked going for long walks, it helped clear his mind somewhat and ease up the tension in his ever aching muscles. So it wasn't a strange sight to see him wandering the streets of District 5 in the early hours of the morning. The air was crisp, but he couldn't really feel the bite of the cold all that much. After a good hour or so he decided to rest, so he found a bench, alongside the path and sat, slowly. People were just starting to bustle around, doing their day-to-day jobs. He liked people watching, it amused him to some degree and made him forget about his own life. His favourite: making up their background stories.
So, when he saw one tiny girl with the most vibrant red hair he just had to think up a story for her.
"Someone thinking"
Everyday was a struggle for Felix Colton. The remainder of his family hated him and gave him a daily beating just to remind him of the tragedy he'd caused. After all, after years of believing everything was his fault; their deaths were his fault, he knew it must be true. He was a failure and each day something knew reminded him of that. Whether it was the fact that his friends had given up on him or the fact that he could not longer talk to people, there was always something. He would often ask himself, "What did I really do to deserve this? It wasn't all my fault." Then he'd remind himself of everything he's ever done wrong and that fateful day before he realised what a silly thing it was to ask.
He wished more than anything that he could go back to that day and change what happened. Change it so much so that his mother and sister survive the attack. Yet he knew that even if he could do the impossible, he would never be able to change a thing. He would always be forced into running away because, after all, he was too much of a weakling to really put put up much of a fight. He would always be the weak link in the family, and it couldn't be made more obvious by his remaining family.
It had been a horrid night. He'd tried to hide away in his room for as long as he could, but eventually he was called downstairs where his father and two twin brothers were drinking away their sorrows of the day. As soon as he stepped into the room he was sneered at, with every foul name flung his way. He cowered away from it, backing himself up into the wall to make him appear smaller than he already is. It was at moments like those that he wished he could disappear. Things took a nasty turn, just like always, about half an hour later. Punches and kicked started to replace the degrading words due to their speech becoming too slurred to be coherent. He was left that night to crawl back up the stairs to his room, and collapse on his bed before his conscious state left him.
That morning he'd woken up in blood encrusted sheets and a bruised, broken body. He sighed to himself, "Just like normal." He was used to the abused state his body woke up in every morning, but people didn't realise that no matter however much he appeared broken physically, his emotional state was far, far worse. He managed to clean himself up, regardless of the strain it put on his exhausted body, before he snuck out of the house for the day. He couldn't be seen at home for longer than necessary; which meant for him that a lot of the time he went without food for days on end.
He liked going for long walks, it helped clear his mind somewhat and ease up the tension in his ever aching muscles. So it wasn't a strange sight to see him wandering the streets of District 5 in the early hours of the morning. The air was crisp, but he couldn't really feel the bite of the cold all that much. After a good hour or so he decided to rest, so he found a bench, alongside the path and sat, slowly. People were just starting to bustle around, doing their day-to-day jobs. He liked people watching, it amused him to some degree and made him forget about his own life. His favourite: making up their background stories.
So, when he saw one tiny girl with the most vibrant red hair he just had to think up a story for her.
✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥
TAG : Ella
WORDS : 631
NOTES : I hope it's okay!!
TAG : Ella
WORDS : 631
NOTES : I hope it's okay!!
