SBI - His Curse of Binding

3

Tommy's morning began with a rough start. He woke up and Henry, his cow plushie, had fallen on the floor and he always felt guilty when that happened, and then he didn't end up slipping and cracking his head open in the shower, which would have saved him from having to go to school.

Even though he was practically immortal (he used that term in full confidence, especially as that car that hit him last year should have murdered him) since only the myths could kill him, it was the thought that counted. Speaking of myths, he hadn't made any progress of what myth he currently had either. His headspace was too focused on the past, which was probably due to how this foster family had too many resemblances to his other myths.

He could never fight off the thoughts of his past lives or their myths when in the shower. The water tormented him, acting as if it didn't remind him of his disfigured and marked skin with every wet drop. There was no moment where the scars, the memories, of Theseus, Icarus and Orpheus could be forgotten. Although he didn't experience the pain of the wounds, or even the healing process, as he was reborn with them attached to his body, he couldn't ignore the discomfort the scars brought.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and hoped the rest of the day would go okay. And because the Gods were never on his side, the second he opened the bathroom door, it all went to shit.

As soon as Tommy walked into the corridor, Techno just had to exit his room.

The once timid air around him sharpened and prickled against his skin; vulnerability encased his exposed body. The scrutinising stare from Techno didn't help the weighted fear held against his chest. He felt as if were on display, an exhibit in a museum, see the cursed child! Don't poke the glass.

At that moment, nothing stopped Techno from knowing every flaw his skin flaunted.

Instead of resorting to swears or phrases to gain control of the situation so the awaiting panic attack wouldn't hit him in front of a man he had met two days prior, Tommy ran into his room, closing the door behind him.

It took everything in him not to crumble into his bedsheets and stay there until the end of time (which so happened to be in a couple of months for him). The desire to bury and delude himself, to neglect the truth of reality, overwhelmed him. Just like he did in his last life. When his own head deceived him to the point where he remained oblivious to the weight of the dead body lying in his arms and forgot about her.

His face reddened and his eyes burned. He shouldn't do that again. The smell of a rotting corpse and the cracking of dried blood on his arms forcing him back into reality did more damage than the original loss. He couldn't do that again.

With the harrowing sound of knocking coming from his door, Tommy accepted defeat.

Bracing himself, Tommy wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and opened the door. A disgruntled Techno stood in front of him.

"How'do?" Tommy said, his voice cracked but he'd rather pretend that did not happen.

"This wasn't on your file."

Knowing what Techno was referring to, Tommy bit on the inside of his cheek. He remembered Linda telling them about his scars, but when you hear that, you don't think of 'oh a third-degree burn on your shoulder, slashes across your stomach that look like a wild pack of dogs ripped you to pieces and a massive skid mark down your back'. Truth be told, Linda didn't know the extent of his scars. He kept them hidden, but obviously, not hidden enough.

"Don't tell Phil."

"Why not?" Techno asked.

Tommy glared at him, "He'll ask questions that I don't want to answer."