It'll Never Stop {Landon/Kaius}
Jun 16, 2017 16:12:50 GMT -5
Post by kap on Jun 16, 2017 16:12:50 GMT -5
LANDON MINK
“You’re such a useless piece of trash!”
I yelped in pain as my brother screamed at me, slamming his boot into my chest. I could feel my ribs crack, and tears started to flow from my eyes. Telling him to stop was useless, though. No matter how many times I yelled or screamed, he kept going. He kept hitting me and kicking me. I didn’t think he’d ever stop. Normally, he wouldn’t stop unless he was interrupted, or I was injured enough that it was physically noticeable. After all, he didn’t want anyone asking where the cuts, bruises, scars and blood all over my body came from the next day. This time, however, he wasn’t stopping. I’d screamed as he beat me in our own open backyard where anyone who passed by the house on the street behind our home could see and watch, but no one bothered to come and stop it.
“Stop whining, you wimp!”
He punched me in the face this time, and I could feel my nose break as blood splattered everywhere. He wasn’t stopping this time, even though he'd broken my ribs, and I had no way of knowing how far he’d go. Would he kill me? No matter how much I wanted to think he wouldn’t, my mind told me he would. He was a cruel enough individual that I really shouldn’t expect anything more of him.
“Emerson, please…” I coughed as I lie there on the ground, feeling as if death were going to come.
In that moment, I felt like I probably would have welcomed death, had it tried to rip me away from Emerson. Anything to get me away from the beating would have been a godsend. I silently prayed to Ripred that I’d get out of the situation alive. I prayed that he would send me someone to save me, or knock Emerson off of his feet so that I could drag myself away from him and run as fast as I could. I wanted to hide, and just to be safe again.
If my brother were to have been picked for the Hunger Games, I would cheer with joy. It may sound cruel to wish for my brother’s death, but I truly feel that he deserves it, after the amount of times he’s told me to "just die already". I groan in pain as Emerson pins me down to the ground. It’s not like I could have gotten away anyway. He pulls his fist back, readying to punch me again, and I wince, scared, but prepared for what I know is going to come no matter what I try to do.
437 words
I yelped in pain as my brother screamed at me, slamming his boot into my chest. I could feel my ribs crack, and tears started to flow from my eyes. Telling him to stop was useless, though. No matter how many times I yelled or screamed, he kept going. He kept hitting me and kicking me. I didn’t think he’d ever stop. Normally, he wouldn’t stop unless he was interrupted, or I was injured enough that it was physically noticeable. After all, he didn’t want anyone asking where the cuts, bruises, scars and blood all over my body came from the next day. This time, however, he wasn’t stopping. I’d screamed as he beat me in our own open backyard where anyone who passed by the house on the street behind our home could see and watch, but no one bothered to come and stop it.
“Stop whining, you wimp!”
He punched me in the face this time, and I could feel my nose break as blood splattered everywhere. He wasn’t stopping this time, even though he'd broken my ribs, and I had no way of knowing how far he’d go. Would he kill me? No matter how much I wanted to think he wouldn’t, my mind told me he would. He was a cruel enough individual that I really shouldn’t expect anything more of him.
“Emerson, please…” I coughed as I lie there on the ground, feeling as if death were going to come.
In that moment, I felt like I probably would have welcomed death, had it tried to rip me away from Emerson. Anything to get me away from the beating would have been a godsend. I silently prayed to Ripred that I’d get out of the situation alive. I prayed that he would send me someone to save me, or knock Emerson off of his feet so that I could drag myself away from him and run as fast as I could. I wanted to hide, and just to be safe again.
If my brother were to have been picked for the Hunger Games, I would cheer with joy. It may sound cruel to wish for my brother’s death, but I truly feel that he deserves it, after the amount of times he’s told me to "just die already". I groan in pain as Emerson pins me down to the ground. It’s not like I could have gotten away anyway. He pulls his fist back, readying to punch me again, and I wince, scared, but prepared for what I know is going to come no matter what I try to do.
437 words
created by Lilith of Adoxography
