TW: SH, abuse, SA
Look, im sure you want my story. Im sure you think it's a happy one, don't you?
Well, I lied about the scars. And my childhood. I didn't run away because my peculiarity scared me, and I didn't want to hurt anyone. I had full control over my water manipulation from a young age. And I didn't choose to run away. Just like I didn't choose to be trans. Nor did I choose to like boys and girls... vaguely. I was kicked out. At 14. I wasn't one of the freaks, because that would mean I was discovered. When I wasn't.
I noticed Noor at school, despite the great grade gap. Yeah, I kept going to school after getting kicked out, why the fuck wouldn't I? Noor was different, quite different. I gained her trust by showing her I was different too. Besides the obvious facts of, being short as fuck and still passing tremendously well as a guy, having a long braid, and heterochromia. When Miss Perigrien's wards found her, she told them about me as well.
I wasn't of concern to the gangs because I wasn't super powerful... that they knew of. Because I had great control of my power and instead of my control weakening near huge bodies, my control grew greater, and I was small and looked soft, so they underestimated me. Mistake on their end.
I didn't go on the trip to wherever the fuck they went after saving Noor, I just helped at Devil's Achre... discovered that polluted water is weirdly easy to manipulate... besides the point.
I'm sure by now you want the before, don't you? The before I got kicked out? What people would call a childhood? Well, mine ain't pretty. It's full of trauma.
My brother and I were born on Halloween. We were dressed in those cute matching twin outfits and all that. For the first two and a half years.
Then our parents start fighting.
Year and a half later, our parents get divorced, finally.
Dad has anger. Mom has sadness. Dad leads to physical and emotional abuse. Mom leads to neglect. Dad leads to bruising. Mom leads to neglect.
We try so hard to not fall apart. We were only four. We had no one but each other.
He acts out in school. I never stray from perfection. Neither way works to get it to stop. No one notices either.
Mom drinks herself into the grave and Dad marries a new woman when we're six. This new woman had kids of her own. A girl and two boys, the girl was four, and the boys were eight and nine. My brother and I slept separately for the first time in our whole lives. I slept in the same room as the girl and he slept in the same as the boys. We weren't favored. The abuse was worse, we missed school more. Oftentimes, we were stuck cleaning all day, and I would have to watch the girl who was two years my junior.
Life was hell.
A living hell.
It got better as we aged... we got a bigger house and we all had our rooms, though my brother and I had to share. But that was ok. Everything was ok again. Kind of. We were 10.
He was 13. I was 10. Why? Why would he do that? I told no one. They wouldn't've believed me anyway.
I pretended I was fine, while I was carving lines in my skin. Because it was finally too much and I deserved pain. Or that's what I thought. Every time I looked at one of my step-siblings and wished I could hurt them I'd carve more lines into my flesh. I was worthless. I deserved to be hurt for my thoughts. I was 12. Puberty had started when I was 11. Dysphoria made everything worse. The lines were carved from everywhere.
One time, it was too much. I almost died. I did die. I died briefly. I saw death look at me before life was brought back into my body. I was 13.
I came out in November. I was then kicked out.
And that's the before. Ya happy?
