Post by Dustin on Apr 12, 2010 19:28:55 GMT -5
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How many days had it been since he slept? Since he woke up without tears in his eyes? The child couldn't remember. Even now, his mind was buzzing with foggy thoughts from his nightmares. Every night was worse then the last, each day he felt worse and worse. Was it Day's fault? Somewhat. She kept reminding him, over and over, what a mess he was. Dustin couldn't take it, this living hell. Maybe that is why he was here now. Here being the art room. Normally it was locked, but today the door was slightly ajar. Dustin didn't waste time before ducking into the empty, cool classroom. He loved the art room, so much. The dull smell of paint and clay was very homely to him. God, clay. The child loved that element so much. It was a Saturday, no one would come in till Monday. Dustin could camp out here and slip away Sunday night without being caught.
The child did quick work, and soon made home in a small corner of the room. His small backpack was propped up as a pillow, his jacket balled up to make it come usable. The boy didn't mind being in his usual (A worn tee, baggy too-loose jeans) it made him feel more safe. The boy had been here a while, two hours maybe. It was silent, aside from the soft drumming from the rain that fell outside. Dustin was a freak, he knew it. He had spent from of that time sitting in the window sill, legs hanging out over the ledge and letting the rain fall on his pale skin. His shirt was damp now, his hair curling lightly on the ends. His arms were partly wet, though one part was dry. His left forearm was covered in a gauze. He had been bad again. See, Dustin grew up as a lost cause and was never taught how to be good. He had to teach himself and punish himself. His knuckles showed some of it, decorated with red marks. They were from his nails. Any time Dustin felt bad for himself, he dug his nails into the knuckles of the other hand, the pain reminding him that one must never pity themselves. The other punishment was on his forearm, that was hidden by the gauze. Words covered his pale skin, though in thick black lines. He used a sharpie, which rested beside him The boy did this often, when ever he did something wrong, he would write it on his arm to teach him never to repeat it. There was a list this time. Orphan, bastard, moron, slut, cruel There was many of the same words, just re-phrased. Day reminded him he was just a unwanted child and that he was just a damned asshole. The thought hurt him more then anything. Even now, it made him wince and his eyes drifted to one of the words. heartless. The boy frowned and closed his eyes. Thoughts buzzed through his head, of all the names of his friends. Adrian, Mile, Corn, Ray....
The boy winched and curled up in his makeshift bed. Fuck..fuck fuck. He slept with James. He hasn't spoke to the boy since, he scared him off. Adrian had seen him cry, and now was forced into giving him a promise. He would never see Ray again. Mile was another mistake, the boy had seen him hurting himself, now Mile wanted to help, out of pity. Corn..he bullied the poor boy into coming to the dorm, and now Corn felt guilt toward him. Then there was Cassa, beautiful Cassa. He was losing her to Day. Of course, soon that little lady would off somewhere better without him.
Pain shot through his arm as his nails dug into his knuckles.
His hands grabbed the small mound of clay, musing it through his fingers a bit. In time though, his eyes closed and he curled on his little jacket. The boy's damp clothes didn't bother him. Soon, a heavy sleep fell over him and his bare arm tucked under his head. The gauzed arm was slightly away from him, hand loosely gripping the mound of clay. The slightly damp gauze fell apart, reveling bits of his black words. Once more, he fell into a fitful sleep. Only a single tear fell from his damp lashes. He'd punish his knuckles when he wakes.
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TAG - saySANO
WORDS - say800-ISH
NOTES - sayEMOOO8D
TUNES - rainbow veins , owl city.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0