where the broken things are ( therese & percy )
Nov 9, 2015 21:27:38 GMT -5
Post by nebula on Nov 9, 2015 21:27:38 GMT -5
therese tucker I hugged myself closing, letting angry breath out and sucking even angrier breaths in. Each one felt cool in my lungs. If my parents weren't such assholes, maybe I would've gone back to get a thicker coat. But, I felt like that would counteract my dramatic slam of the door. The dishes had been piling up, and it was (apparently) my job to wash them. Except, I was at the academy for more than half of the day, while my parents either sat on their lazy, drunk asses or did god knows what with their time. It was beyond arguing, and it was really just a stupid, little thing. But it was a consistent stupid, little thing, and stupid, little things build up. Put simply, they never did a damn thing; I told them that with brash words that I didn't regret. They stared at me, their yells starting to boil in their throats. And I left. I shivered, pursing my lips. I usually jogged to the academy, and my pulse heated me up. But I wasn't in the mood for jogging after that. I wasn't in the mood for anything. I just wanted to scream and kick something. My hands had curled themselves into fists, falling into balls at my sides like dead weights of aggravation. I needed somewhere quiet to go. I needed to let my steam blow off into the brittle air. Luckily for me, I specialize in solitude, and I knew the best places to go where the forgotten ones. My deliberate steps took me to the closest pier. No one was there when I got there. It was usually deserted anyway. I picked up a rock before getting on the rickety wood. When my toes hit the end of the pier, I threw it as far as I could throw. I tried to swallow the anger just as easily as the waves swallowed the stone. notes: oops tags: Tom |