Dwoality - Tumblr Posts

"He cupped my face so gently, so caring. His touch one of a loving father.

He other hand came to atop my head, like he was patting me for a assurance.

Then it came.

The searing hot pain.

It burned and burned, a white hot burn. It was so intense, like the sun came down to Earth and visited me, touched me with it's flaming hand and painful touch.

Then...

Nothing.

Everything was black, and for a millisecond, I was scared, frightened. Begging for my mother's comfort.

Next thing I know, I woke up, numb with anesthesia.

I was confused, moment of pain that occured before momentarily forgotten. My hand came up to my head and brushed against cloth. The bandage, hiding and obscuring the burn that was surely there from view. Memories flashed before my eyes and tears welled up in my eyes.

Hours later, I was told the news regarding my banishment and the fool's errand that my father sent me on.

That was three years ago, I'm sixteen now.

I still don't know who was in the wrong."

Got Krita and decided to draw one of my previous art but decided to change the whole color scheme. The lines are awful and terrible, I'm not used to not having full control of where my pen lands on the screen. I usually just move the screen and not really my hand but that's hard with a PC and a tablet that has points to mark the location on the screen. But I'm figuring it out.

There was no clear time to be told. No exact date, exact time, exact moment that would be able to tell people. It was this...

Poison.

This slow killing poison that settles in the gaps of your jonts, the spaces in your muscles. It flows with your blood, following the set trail set by the veins. Until it reaches your brain.

If you asked, you would not be given a clear answer as to when everything cleared up and the thought came.

It was something that was planted long before the time came. It slowly blossomed, the poison as its water that tarnishes the soil it growing on.

It seeps into your being, poisonous, inky black blob of venom that crawled into the crevices of your body, your orfices and settled into you. Blending in with the crowd in your system until it leaked into your soul, painted your heart, manipulated your mind.

It was the blueish, the purplish, the disgusting array of colors that appeared on your skin as the bruised formed from another hit from an unloving and unlovable and disgusting and cruel and demonic hand. It was the bright and angry red that shaped itself as a hand that cupped the entirety of one half of your face.

It was the leakage of dark red blood that tasted like iron and smelled like it from your nose or your split lip or a cut from a bottle shard. Or the torn walls from where it slipped outside and slipped back once more.

This poison.

It takes several forms. It could be that droplet of blood that fell on your desk with a "plink". It could be the next person you talk to. The next hand that slots itself in your hand and it feels so so so wrong. It could be that stripe of saliva somewhere on your skin. It could be that look of a parent so unlike a parent's.

It could be the glinting of a silver blade that blinds you and cuts you with it's sharpness, and that blood that drips from your hand to the matress. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another.

Until.

Until it forms that big wet puddle of red. Like wet paint leaking across the surface of the canvas and spreading. Or blood on a tissue that spreads and leaks onto the bottom.

It could be that void in your chest as you stare at the opened and lifeless eyes of an abuser. Eyes that opened a minute before the final breath was taken. Fear etched onto them. That same fear you saw in your reflection. That same fear you saw reflected into those cruel, cruel orbs.

It could be the steps you took as you walked out.

Or it could be the tiny splash of water from when you dropped the bloody knife.

Or it could be that feeling in your chest you can't identify as you watch the crime, your crime, your sin, reported in the news and printed in the papers and talked around.

Or it could be that sickeningly sweet feeling you felt as you moved forward. Or the faint regret as you looked back.

Or that happy, giddy feeling as you left and started new.

Or that ghostly, cool touch of a hand that explores your every part with a burning, seering, hot pain.

Or that feeling of fear and relief when you woke up and your heartbeat's loud beating of thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thumo, thump...