Blood and Guts

ii

 
"A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you."

―   Khaled Hosseini,  A Thousand Splendid Suns

HER fingers had wrapped themselves rather skillfully around Hanz's throat, gentle impressions pressing onto his pale skin as the curled bony branches on her palm had tightened themselves, with polished nails digging into the bare skin at the back of his neck.

He could not tell if it was the blood or her chipped red nail paint that had trickled down his throat first in straight scars, wetness pooling in his frantic, helpless eyes as a feeble crack of the voice had escaped his lips.

it was hot and fuzzy, her glittering eyes deprived of any emotion, he had found himself drifting away as the woman held on to her sadistic ways and a satisfying smile watching him give in to her drunken power.

Hanz had liked a man then , a man she had set her eyes on. He was just a boy until the man had kissed him on the couch, his lips molded perfectly against the man's- Albert- and Hanz craved his forbidden touch, unaware of the silhouette staring at the two from the shadows of the neon lights that shone at an odd angle.

Hanz remembered the smell of alcohol that often laced her breath, even that night. It had become a part of her, her very soul.

Each night she'd drown herself in, the reckless antics following close by  and a strange man's pleasure would have her screaming heard till his bedroom. The German lullabies were a fantasy to him, a memory he had never had. 

He hated her, despised her, loathed her.

Because she had drowned in her surreal happiness out of selfish motives, too carefree to notice someone's sinking sorrow.

Her son's sorrow.

And as of that day, she had too reeked of alcohol, her breath swirling around the room, burning his eyes.

Her fingers had wrapped around his throat after Albert's departure, choking him till he couldn't breath anymore.

Till his body had screamed in hopeless defeat.

Till he had realized he wanted men more.

Till he had wanted revenge from her for never being there for him.

He  killed his mother with his  bedside lamp.

[ a/n ] : I'm not sure whether you all would like (this update) it or not but i've been suffering from a major writer's block and the story hasn't even begun yet.

Forgive me ( i'm aware it's a very short update).

Am i being a little too harsh with the story plot? Do let me know!

Ash