Puppet [LGBT - POLY - Complete - Edited]

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

It was Sunday. The day after the party. The same day he had a fight with his best friends.

He stabbed the black pen into the already torn to pieces notebook. Scribbled on the pages were words of resentment and hate. They were written in his own handwriting.

He stabbed and stabbed until the nib of the pen began to bend. He paused for a moment, lifting the pen so he could get a better look at the damage. He stared and stared until his eyes went cross-eyed. Then, he continued to stab into the lined pages of the notebook. Ink spilled onto his hands. The letters of some of the words were stained black and made illegible.

A knock on his bedroom door stopped him once more.

"Yeah?"

His voice was monotone. It had lost all uniqueness.

The door opened. His sister—Anne—walked in.

She looked at what he was doing. She grimaced.

"So, you're not okay."

He tossed the ruined pen onto the destroyed notebook. His therapist had told him to write down all his ill thoughts and feelings inside of it. This wasn't part of the treatment—ripping it apart—but he felt like doing it.

He looked up at her without turning around. She stood beside the end of his bed, her arms limply at her sides. She stared down at him with a questioning look on her face. Well, it wasn't quite questioning. It was a curious face that made him wonder what she was thinking. Or what she was specifically thinking about him.

The look in her eyes reminded him of his own curious nature. They weren't alike all that much. They didn't even share that many features. She had bronze skin like him and dark brown hair like him. That was about all they had in common. Their facial features and their eyes were like night and day. She was soft in the face—a baby face she'd gotten from both sides of the family.

It would take many years before she would start to look her age. Right now, at the age of fifteen, she could have passed as a ten year old. It hadn't helped much at school, but with her outgoing personality, she'd been more than capable to gain a following of friends and boys who i9chased after her.

And her eyes were light green. They were like course jade with flecks of gold shimmers that only came out when the light hit them just right.

On the other hand, Varian was bland in most aspects. His jawline was sharp and defined, though there was still a softness to it. Not quite baby face, but he wasn't exactly handsome. He wasn't ugly. He was simply in the middle. He didn't stand out against any kind of backdrop.

His brown eyes were so dark they sometimes looked black. When he was younger, he was afraid of looking into mirrors because he thought he was looking at the evil version of himself that would take his soul.

It turned out it was just him he was scared of. It seemed very foretelling now that he was thinking about it.

A warning of sorts.

"What makes you say that?" He stood up from the mess. He wiped his hand on his jeans. The ink smeared over them, leaving trails of black ink.

Anne shook her head. "Don't let mom see what you've done. She'll lose her fucking head."

He looked at her from under his lashes. He had his hand raised a bit so he could see the damage he'd caused.

"When did you start cussing?"

She wrinkled her nose. She looked like she was about to stomp her foot in retaliation. "I'm not a kid, you know. I know things."

She paused as if she said something she didn't mean to.