The armoured hearts

Painting of horror

(Hi <3  Please take care and  I love you <3)

To Porchay's surprise, they didn't say or do anything when the situation took place like a painting of horror for the boy. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was violence. These details of his life were the most ironic considering the thief he had to become to survive. This was why he always studied seriously before acting, he should only need to take and to run, to run and to hide, avoiding every physical contact or menacing anyone to get what he craved, to get what he wouldn't be able to stay alive without. Porchay didn't know why but it always froze him to witness any violent attack and to be honest, it might come from the wound Porsche got while going home.

He would tell him that it didn't hurt. It didn't sting. The blood was only here to soothe the pain, he made him believe for years when he was young. The bruises would only hurt a small amount, until Porchay understood that under the blue, sometimes purple, beauty of the skin, it wasn't a magical effect, like Porsche made him believe, it could even hide more awful consequences. The soft world his brother structured to not let Porchay suffer from his lifestyle, just made him feel even more guilty, and made violence less bearable for the young little boy, who also discovered the drainful pain. Porchay was conflicted, Porsche wanted him safe, but he couldn't be without dying of hunger, he couldn't stand violence but his everydays were full of it. He wasn't made for this. It was his reality, but he could always change who he was for what he needed to be in extreme danger.

The problem was that his brain needed to adapt. It wasn't natural, he didn't do it immediately like Porsche had to, he was obligated to do it too suddenly, without his brother being able to make him learn at a steady rhythm. And now, Porchay was totally off, looking at those men, looking at this gun, gun from which he already knew a small amount of the pain. His scratched arm was itching for weeks, but his body might just die on the spot, or it would also suffer for hours, the blood coming slowly out of his body and sliding on the ground like the river. Porchay always thought about blood like a river in his body and a hole in it would disintegrate his existence in one second. Everyone was amazed at those objects, it was so rapid and so easy to defend themselves, but also much harder to run from, and legends were created around it. It should act like a dragon, piercing through the body and putting it on fire. It was like a first trip to hell, and Porchay believed those words, even if, if it was real, no one would be alive to tell about it.

Porchay was still blank. Not moving, stopped muscles and brainless cells. He felt his heartbeat exploding and he was aimed at. He was targeted, if he ran, anywhere, they would reach. It was the most frightening, escaping from it looked impossible. The boy suddenly thought about Porsche, he was so sorry to end like this. He thought about the innocent Kim being all alone, he was really like a child and Porchay knew that anyone would be able to manipulate him easily. He didn't think about his own life, because his life always had been from or for others, and now, still he logically began to cry about them rather about himself.

"Do you think it's our man?" One of them said, looking suspiciously at Porchay.

"He looked so afraid...like they promised us a cold killer, not a scared puppy..." The other one said, lowering his voice. "But we have no choice, we need to take him back."