morphine || ky & asher
Oct 1, 2020 0:14:04 GMT -5
Post by [nyte] on Oct 1, 2020 0:14:04 GMT -5
a s h e r .
"what's the worst
thought you ever had?
wish that you could
take it back?"
Aimless wandering is less of a hobby more a necessity at this point. Guess it's kinda my fault for not seeing this coming. Things get good for a while, then they go real bad. I dunno why I expected anything to be different this time around. Optimism is for the lucky pricks that didn't grow up with a drunk ass mom and a dad with the anger management capability of a rotten peanut. Us Clarke kids? We were made to fuck good things up.
Really not surprised my sister did, but sleeping on her ex-husband's couch is getting pre-tty fucking awkward so I dipped a couple months ago. Living back home isn't so bad, I tell myself, nursing the newest bit of cruelty staining paper skin. It spreads like black ink up my thigh, bleeding blue at its edges. I'm strong enough to take a hit without crying now and Dad was pretty proud of that.
He loves the kind of career I've become and that makes me sick to my stomach every time I think about it.
So I spend a lot of time trying not to do that. I've mapped out Victors Village a couple of times over now, I figured they got some cool shit they might leave outside that I can snag. And it's not really stealing if you leave it outside your house. I think? I mean, it makes sense to me so I'm going with that. Bored kid, scared kid, what's the difference in the end? At least I'm doing something constructive with this self-destruction.
Not that I can justify it as self-destruction anymore. I gotta admit I kinda like feeling like the big man, that little flicker of fear in people's eyes when they realize I'm not as small and weak as they thought. That I meet agony with a smile and greet her like my oldest fucking friend. Maybe apples never really fall that far from their trees.
I think that's why I don't have any real friends. Eighteen years in and I've managed to keep myself from hurting anyone important all because I've never let anyone that close. Grey faces made of papier-mâché are easy to destroy, you just gotta leave 'em out in the rain.
And the people who actually mean something to me whether I like it or not? I made sure they aren't all too fond of me either. I'm smarter than people give me credit for, got this whole 'life' thing figured out at fourteen. I think. Aha.
The streets grew blurry a while ago, if I'm being honest. It's not the first time I set out at dusk and was still awake to greet the dawn. The pain of over-exertion came and went, now my legs are so numb it feels like I'm not walking on them at all! Which is, y'know, really great! I think. Aha.
The forest is kinda pretty around Victor Village, like even the trees only manage to care about the millionaires. Funny isn't it? Some day they'll be money lining their pockets like the rest of us. Still it's hard not to appreciate the way morning dew clings to bright green leaves, complacent as gravity pulls them toward their demise.
splat onto the dirt like droplets of-
uh, is that blood?
I stop short for a second, rubbing my eyes a couple times to make sure there's actually a kid on the ground bleeding out in front of me. Long moments tick by, too long, as I stand rooted spot by a cocktail of adrenaline and exhaustion.
The scent of rotten copper reaches me not long after, and I take off at a sprint. "Whoa!" The kid looks to be about my age, dark hair slicked against his forehead like he's been running a marathon and I can't help but wonder if it really takes that much energy to be stabbed.
I mean, he's just laying there right?
Anyway, apply pressure. Right. "Sorry this is gonna hurt like a bitch," I mumble, pressing my hands into his wound the moment I pinpoint the source. I knew career training would come in handy some day, I just always thought I'd be the one doing the stabbing.
"Guess you pissed off someone real good, huh?"
Because that's what you say to the stabbed guy bleeding out on the forest floor.
I wince.
"Uh, don't worry. I got you bro."