Blue - Winrina

thirty two

[TW - Violence/Abuse/Death - PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN NOT PHYSICALLY HANDLE IT - Take care of yourselves - Enjoy]

Winter smiled widely, carefully holding the heavy vase in her hands and padding into the kitchen. She hummed happily when she saw her uncle was home, sitting on one of the stools at the island.

"I made flowers," Winter smiled, walking over to him and holding up the vase to show him. "They are pink and white," she nodded proudly. Her smile wavered when he raised his head and she caught sight of the bottle in his hand.

"You don't 'make' flowers, dumbass," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Winter didn't like when he drank, he always got like this. "They're going to die without water. God, do you have ANY common sense?" he laughed bitterly and took another swig from his bottle.

Winter grew concerned, looking down at the vase and shaking it slightly to make the flowers move around. Frowning, she moved forward and held the vase further in front of his face.

"I made flowers," she repeated, shaking the vase slightly just to prove her point. "See? I made them."

Suddenly, the vase was whacked out of her hand; sending it crashing down to the floor at her feet. Winter whimpered, looking down at the collection of glass and flowers that have now covered the floor.

"Fuck off," he slurred, before turning his attention back to his bottle. Winter stood frozen for a few seconds before her eyes landed on the remains of her flowers. Tediously, she navigated her way around the broken glass so she could bend down and retrieve them.

"They need water?" she asked softly, remembering what he had said earlier. She looked down at the colorful flowers in her hand before shoving them in front of his face, looking at him pleadingly.

That's when everything changed.

Winter inhaled sharply when he stood up, bringing his hand out from behind his back and pressing something cold under her chin. Winter stumbled backwards when he took a step towards her.

She yelped, feeling the shards of glass under her bare feet. A few steps later and she was pressed up against the wall, her feet growing numb from the constant, painful throbbing.

"Ouch," she whispered, feeling tears forming in her eyes as she shook her head furiously. "Ouch, ouch," she repeated herself. When he removed the gun from her chin and pressed it to her chest, Winter panicked. She knew what that was. She knew what it could do.

"N-no," Winter whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Please, no," she shook her head furiously, trying to back up even further.

"It'd be so easy just to pull the trigger," he slurred, dragging the barrel of the gun across her chest and up her collarbone. "Wouldn't it?"

"Please," Winter whispered, trying to wiggle out of his grip.

"Please what?" he chuckled, moving the gun up to her jaw. "You want me to end this?"

"Pl-pl-please," Winter stuttered. She couldn't form any other words at the moment.

For a second, he pulled the gun away and turned it around in his hands, inspecting it. "If only someone loved you," he laughed bitterly, rolling his eyes. "Maybe there'd be someone who cared when you're gone."

Winter's breath practically vanished when, arms outstretched, the barrel of the gun was pressed straight against her chest.

Winter never fought back. But her adrenaline took over, and she panicked. She reached up, trying to push the gun back towards him.