"some children are simply born with tragedy in their blood."
———
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The blood was dripping, forming a small crimson puddle on the wooden floor.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The wound stung, much like the pain in his heart.
Drip. Drip.
A pale hand gently brushed over the wound- his own.
Clink.
A glass shard, tiny. Bloody.
Drip.
Drip.
Smells like alcohol. Pungent.
When will he ever learn?
———
A muffin, a candle, a lighter.
What seemed like a pitiful celebration was a shard of his hope for better days.
Hope that would go wasted.
Flick.
The candle was lit.
Would he ever get a proper birthday party?
Unlikely.
Dull red eyes that everyone hated, including himself, watched as the flame flickered, lighting up parts of his small desk.
His body was tired. Tired from the excessive work he had to do. Tired from the barrage of hatred by everyone around him.
And yet, he could do nothing.
Nothing but exist, knowing others have it better without even trying.
In the grace of misery, he was blessed with misfortune. That white hair, that pale skin, those red eyes.
How unfortunate.
Such a shame it was, that albinism was relative to demonic nature in this small rural town.
His bruises stung painfully. His hands trembled from exhaustion. His eyes burned with how tired he was.
Such a shame indeed.
And yet, the candle was lit.
Happy Eleventh Birthday, Shiyo.
A small celebration for himself, hypocritical it was, knowing that he wished for nothing more than death.
A life is no longer meaningful when there's nothing to live for after all.
And what did he have to live for?
YOU ARE READING
𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟏 | Metanoia | HP 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘺𝘰 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘰
FanfictionMҽƚαɳσια : 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. ---- In the grace of misery, he was blessed with misfortune. That white hair, that pale skin, those red eyes. How unfortunate...
