The name's Sam, he/him × kinda a writer, kinda an artist × european, my age will remain a mystery × the god of procrastination × language enthusiast × assholes and mosquitoes DNI
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Children Of The Prophecy - Pt. 17
Children Of The Prophecy - pt. 17
Summary: some backstory
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Tw: mentions of wanting to commit infantcide/fillicide, accidental murder, parents hating & kicking out their child, passing out, emotional whump, suicidal ideation??
Five years ago
The black haired boy peeked from the corridor, glancing at his parents, who were arguing in the living room. He briefly wondered what was it about this time; money? The house? His existence?
He took a few quiet steps in the direction of their raised voices and listened in.
"You did what?!" His father yelled at the boy's mother "How could you?!"
The woman sounded like she was crying "I didn't know!" She sobbed "If I knew I would've killed myself before it happened"
He didn't understand what was going on, but his mother's cries made him quietly enter the living room.
"Mama?" He whispered, approaching the sobbing woman with his hands outstretched.
His mother scrambled away from him in fear. "Don't you come closer, you freak" she sobbed
The boy felt tears falling down his face. He turned around to look at his father, who in turn looked betrayed.
"Papa?" The boy said, confused
His father didn't meet his eyes "You're not my son" he replied, face blank
He finally looked at the child, his expression full of anger. "Get out," he said, his jaw clenched "get out and don't you dare come back"
The boy was sobbing now, not understanding what was going on. "Mama?" He turned to his mother again, seeking the comfort of her embrace with his hands outstretched.
"I-I'm so sorry," his mother cried, hugging herself "I'm so s-sorry I couldn't k-kill you"
He took a few steps forward, causing a terrified scream to erupt from his mother's throat "Don't touch me"
His father grabbed him by his hand and abruptly pulled him from the room, from the house.
He opened the front door and pushed the boy out, causing him to trip and fall. He instinctively grabbed his father's arm, trying not to meet the floor with his face.
His father screamed and fell to the floor, convulsing weakly.
The boy let go of his hand and slowly backed away, hugging his knees.
His father wasn't moving anymore.
The rest was a blur to him.
Footsteps, then a scream, then police sirens and feeling himself fall down some sort of a hole.
One single thought filled his head as darkness enveloped him.
He'll never be able to get his mother's desperate wailing from his head.
--
What's up fuckers it's me, ya boy.
I am back bc I've finally figured out what I can write and how can I write it lol.
And also I've changed schools (yet again) so here I am spending like 2hrs on transit everyday (plenty time to write!)
Anyways,
Taglist: @laves-here @heathenwhump
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WEEEE SPN IS FINALLY BACK ON PRIME
That's why I love slavic mythology:
Other mythologies: He/she is EVIL ect.
Slavic mythology: Well, yes, he/she is Evil but he/she is OUR EVIL and he/she is USEFUL EVIL. So don't you dare to touch him/her.
Problem: my parents yell at me for saying 'co?' (what?) Instead of 'słucham' (i listen/am listening) BC it's "impolite" (its really not)
Solution: start saying 'co?' In other languages which they do not understand
Pov: u come out to ur friend as aroace
reblog and put in the tags a saying that’s only popular where you’re from