stand down { otis/cyrus } kou

new

« Prev
1
Next »

k!ah
Retired Staff

4,636 POSTS
Pronouns: She/Her
last seen Nov 19, 2024 4:03:09 GMT -5

#expensivetrash

stand down { otis/cyrus } kou Oct 24, 2015 11:02:03 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on Oct 24, 2015 11:02:03 GMT -5

("Father! Father please! Please dont hurt him- he- he is just a boy! Please, please-"

His fist slams into her jaw, knocking her to the ground. She does not scream out in pain though, her eyes welling with silent tears as he came for her again, his fist pounding into her body and all she can do is apologize, the words ' I am sorry' lost to the sound of flesh on flesh, lost never to be heard by the man mans his violet fists.)

She watches as the boy is beaten. She watches as the woman drives her fist into his shoulder, her face screwed up in anger as she strikes the child once again. Her eyes were not the only pair to watch the the situation unfolded. Many more were focused on the woman but none of them steeped forward, no one stepped forwards to help the child. All frozen, scared, or helpless or simply just couldn't give two fucks.

But not her.

She steps forward, her feet carrying her over to the child as the woman raises her fist once again. Just as the fist hurls down to explode onto the helpless kid her arm goes flying from her side. But she does not hit the woman, her fingers simply close around the woman's wrist, the blow she had intended to inflict cu short.

The woman's eyes blaze with fury as they burn into her skin, they dance with the fires of hell but Otis does not back down, her lips set in a firm line as she places her body between the child and its mother. It was a situation that made her stomach churn, her mind flashing back to the numerous times she had shielded her brother with her own body. But she does not let the memories weaken her, in fact she draws power from them, squaring her shoulders her eyes shoot daggers at the woman, her fathers face a ghost dancing across the woman's features.

'What the hell do you think you are doing?" Venom, as poisonous as a snake strikes into the girls skin but she dose not flinch, her eyes unyielding, her stance unbreakable. "Who the hell do you think you are?" She spits, ripping her wrist from Otis's iron grin (She has never known to be strong, but adrenaline pumped through her veins, lending her strength.)

"Why do you strike this child?" Her voice is as cold as ice, her eyes as hard as steel. "Do you gain some sort of sick satisfaction from beating a child? Some sort of victory at attacking someone who cant- who wont fight back because they love you. Its sick isn't it, because despite the way you hurt this kid, they will still love you. Its fucked isn't it? But who am I right?" She raises an eyebrow as she speaks now, crossing her arms across her chest. Before raising her voice, so that everyone could hear her. "You know what, you are all fucked. All of you! How could you all just watch as this mother beat up her own child? How could none of you step in and stop her? You all make me sick." This time it is her time to spit, her eyes slicing into the crowd, like a blade slicing through flesh.

"I bet you all talk about how cruel life is, how harsh how messed up it is and yet none of you will do anything about it when you have the chance to. You are all so content with just sitting back and allowing this cruel disgusting world to trample over you. Your all pathetic. All of you. And you-" She speaks directly at the woman once again, her voice dangerously low "- you're the worst."

### words | @tagged | notes

ulla

✮ UPAT ✮

kousei ♚
Mentor

2,011 POSTS
Pronouns: He/Him/His
last seen May 7, 2022 17:23:18 GMT -5

now and forever

stand down { otis/cyrus } kou Oct 25, 2015 6:02:24 GMT -5

Post by kousei ♚ on Oct 25, 2015 6:02:24 GMT -5

CYRUS

I thought we were normal.

SMACK!

I thought I was good.

SMACK!

I thought I hadn't done anything wrong.

SMACK!

Constant cycle, constant pain, constant violence. It hurts so much.

The town centre is loud and I'm lost. Lost in memories, lost in pain, lost in my imagination, and lost in reality. What am I doing? Wandering aimlessly like a street rat. nowhere to call home, nothing to anchor me to reality. I could've sworn I was just with Otis about five minutes ago. "Otis?!" I call out, but no one responds, everyone just gets about their normal business. People buying, people checking and examining food and bread. About a month ago I would be stealing this stuff, but I got a job a now, I chop wood for my money. Of course, the pay is sucks but it gets food on the table.

Hah, what a funny thought. I'm a working boy and yet here I am, lost in all respects and unable to even find my own sister.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

It hurts so much, just thinking about it I can feel the constant pain. A blow to the face that rattles my teeth, a fist to the ribs that knocks the air out of me, a headbutt that leaves me seeing stars and birds. I remember it all, I feel it all and I can't clear it out of my head. It's everywhere, the crowd, the sun, the cold, the food, none of that matters. All that matters is the pain, the rattling, the ... the ...

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

What have I done now?

My legs are carrying me to anywhere but here. I can't stay here any more, I feel sick to my stomach, I'm stumbling, weaving in and out of people that are in my way. Stop, stop, stop. Please won't you just STOP?! I almost bump into one man and he continues walking, a young couple step past me, all ignoring my pain.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Where am I

I find a bench and collapse on it, breathing in and out quickly and deeply. Resisting the urge to empty my guts and sob from these painful memories of phantom fists. I don't know what to say, I don't know what to do other than just shut up and keep it zipped and locked. If I cry I make a scene, if I throw up I make a scene, if I cry out I make a scene. Anything I do will make a scene and that will just result in a peacekeeper taking me away. I silently try to compose myself, keep exhaling and inhaling rapidly, hoping that will somehow make it all better.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Please just leave me alone.

Then I see it, in the distance. Some kind of crowd, people walking past but stopping, and I only know what that means. Fight or something. I lurch to my feet and begin slowly walking to the scene of the crime. Taking one step at a time and trying my best to keep the phantom fists as far away from me as possible, keeping them locked in the back of my mind where they belong. Just focusing on the violence, on the fighting, one the crowd. A weak grin spreads across my lips when I finally get there, weaving through the crowd, using my skinny frame to slip my way to get a front row spot...

And then it disappears.

Otis.

And a child.

Otis.

And some other woman.

Otis.

"I bet you all talk about how cruel life is, how harsh how messed up it is and yet none of you will do anything about it when you have the chance to. You are all so content with just sitting back and allowing this cruel disgusting world to trample over you. Your all pathetic. All of you. And you-"

She says something inaudible to the woman but my eyes are on the child.

Me.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Otis..." I say, taking two steps towards her, "What... what are you doing?

k!ah
Retired Staff

4,636 POSTS
Pronouns: She/Her
last seen Nov 19, 2024 4:03:09 GMT -5

#expensivetrash

stand down { otis/cyrus } kou Oct 25, 2015 6:35:05 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on Oct 25, 2015 6:35:05 GMT -5

Her eyes are like daggers, as sharp as an assassins blades. She would not let this woman strike her child again. She would not let her lay a finger on him because Otis wasnt seeing just any child as she watched, but she was seeing someone else, her brother and she would never allow anyone to harm him. Never. The woman takes a step back, her face painted with a look of surprise by the girls ferocity. The woman hadn't expected anyone to confront her,Otis could tell by the way her bottom lip tremble as she sort for a suitable response. But she would find one to no avail as there was no justifiable reason.

There never was a justifiable answer. Not for just domestic abuse though, but for all forms of violence. She had searched high and low for answers, she had begged the man who beat her to tell her why, to explain to her, to make her understand but he never could. Not even once so after a few years she stopped looking, coming to the conclusion that violence was the worst sin a person could commit. It was the only answer that she could understand- and that was because it wasn't even an answer in itself.

"You," once agin she aims her words directly at the woman, taking a step forwards, her eyes narrow with a hate only reserved to those who demanded it the most, "You deserve to rot in hell." She does not regret the words as they slip past her lips weaved with bitterness. She does not feel any sympathy as the woman recoils as though she had struck her. She feels nothing, her veins lowing with hatred that she could barely control, a storm brewing within her, one that she could so easily loose control of. She could feel it, raging on within her, ready to explode-

"Otis..."

The voice is so soft, that she barely heard it over the rage that stormed within her. Hell if it had of been a voice that she didn't hold so dear she may not have heard it at all. But it was his voice, his voice so small so vulnerable fighting the storm that battled on relentlessly.

"What... what are you doing?

There it is again. His voice, dragging her from the winds, pulling her back to safety. Blinking she turns to see him, he stands just forwards of the crowd, his eyes wide as they stared at her, her and the boy and the woman. Otis's gaze soften slightly as her eyes meet his, her lips pulling back into a ghost of a smile. She wanted to tell him not to worry, just to wait for her because this was something that she had to do, something that she had to take care of, not for him though. She had to do if for herself. She had to stand up for the child because she knew what it was like. She had to.

She had to.

"I have to do this," she says softly, turning back to the woman. But just as she open her lips to speak, to allow the storm to consume her whole the woman turns, leaving quickly, pushing through the crowd words of hate and following her like mosquitoes.

Otis frowns, her feet ready to take after the woman, when something stops her. A small hand pressed to her leg, another anchor in the storm. Blinking once again she looks down at the child. Small bruises had begun to flower across his small arms and Otis suddenly forget about everyone else, kneeling down beside the small boy she allowed her lips o pull back into a small smile, "hey there sailor? How you holding up?"

### words | @tagged | notes

ulla

✮ UPAT ✮