SBI - His Curse of Binding

1

Tommy didn't care that murder was illegal now, it wasn't in his first life, so it shouldn't matter now. If Linda Smith opened her mouth one more time to educate him about the consequences of his actions, she deserved it. So what if threatening one of your foster brothers was 'immature' and 'borderline harassment'? The prick shouldn't have used Tommy's notebook to demonstrate one of the many reasons why no one in this world would ever adopt him, which was majorly due to his shit art skills (how hard is it to draw a rainbow the correct way?).

The notebook was special to Tommy. It was the only thing that stayed with him each rebirth and the pages could never be filled up. No matter the amounts of written rants he had about how weak France was for their government to be overthrown by a guy whose name sounded like the ice cream—the 1780s were rough—the pages kept coming.

Even though the book was primarily used for his analysis of Greek myth tragedies and served as a constant reminder of the shitty lives he experienced, he had a sentimental connection to it.

"Tommy, are you even listening to me?" apparently Linda, his social worker, was still going on about the insignificant and little incident he had with another guy. It was just silly and not worth spending this much time talking about.

"Yes, ma'am, absolutely." Tommy would salute but he didn't want to be shouted at again. He didn't want to add any more grey hairs on Linda's already balding head. "You were just in the middle of dismissing me of needing to be punished because I am the victim in this situation."

"How comes in every fight you have, you are both the initiator and victim?"

"Personally, I don't see it that way and the only way to see it is the way I see it." He was sure what he said made sense, but the glare Linda gave him proved him wrong.

"You held a pencil to Zack's throat."

"Well..."

"And then threatened to shank him and his whole family, full-well knowing he's an orphan."

Tommy laughed, "But it was funny though." The look of discontent on Linda's poorly-ageing face only caused him to laugh harder.

"Look, Tom—"

"Don't call me that."

"Tom, I know you're acting out because you're being relocated soon, but it's finalised. No amount of death threats can stop the Craft's from fostering you."

He took this as a challenge.

"Clearly, I haven't tried hard enough."

"If this is about what happened at the last house, I promise you that won't happen again." The humoured smile on his face fell.

Linda just had to ruin everything. First, it was his life (arguably, a green bastard was more to blame for that), then it was his mood. He thought social workers were supposed to prevent childhood trauma rather than consistently bring it up when unprompted.

"Oh my God, lady can you just..." he gestured for Linda to, as you could say, fuck off so he could focus on something else rather than the shaking in his hands and his heartbeat that decided to act up for some totally unprovoked reason.

"Alright, I get it. Punishment for today's events still stands though. And no, you can't steal dessert from the younger children again."

"They need to respect their elders."

"Then why don't you respect me?"

Tommy was tempted to explode on her, not in the literal sense—he wasn't a victim of rigged explosives this time around—but in a metaphorical way. A way that would hopefully result in Linda crying and realising the weight of her words. He usually had little daydreams of arguments with his social worker, of him finally letting go and releasing the burden that was only physical on his back, shoulders, and torso. But that will never happen because that would require acknowledging his past lives in detail and Tommy preferred to stay in the bliss his ignorance created.