Karkat x Barry B Benson

bee suiide

!!!!TW FOR ABUSE AND SUICIDE!!!
——
barry threatened me.
His once loving, caring eyes now gone.
He loved me once. I know.
But his cold manner gave no attention to me or our child.
Carbethany, our child, was only one year old now. She was beautiful, but through Barry's neglect, she became grey. Like him.
How could he do this to us. I have to leave him.
I think, if I do it tonight. I'll have to leave before he gets back from work. 4pm at the latest.
I'll just pretend we're going on our daily walk to the park. And I'll leave then. I'll take what I need and make it out of his damaging reach. Me and Carbethany can start a new life. In Massachusetts or something. Just, far enough.

It's been an hour since I've decided I'm going to leave him. I fold my clothes quickly. I shove passports, legal documents, and cash into a duffel bag.

There's still some time, so I clean out the nursery. If you could even call it that anymore. It was littered with dust and the room smelled of sweat. Often, cans of beer would spill to the floor from when Barry would watch the baby at night. I know better now, he was never just watching.

I wake Carbethany up, she fusses. And I get her into her stroller. We make our way towards the park. I put on my coat and lift the hood of my jacket. A while passes and we are way past the park. I purchase a ticket at the bus stop. We get on.

——
Meanwhile Barry slugs into the house.
He shouts for karkat. Calling him names and slurs. Beckoning his househusband for service. But he his nowhere to be found.
Fucking fantastic.
—
Hours pass into the night, Karkat and Carbethany are in New York now. He's checked into a small motel off the highway. It's dark now. He stares at Carbethany, her sweetness seemingly starts to return. Her skin is colorful. She smiles in her sleep. Karkat smiles. He's going to make it.
——
It's been a few weeks now. Barry looks pathetic. He is pathetic.
He pathetically drags himself to the fridge and takes a beer, and a sad bottle of vodka.
He sits on the stairs, drinking his beer fast. It tastes like shit, and anyone could tell from his reaction. When he's finished. He throws the beer can out of frustration.
He decides to light a cigarette. He wasn't a smoker, but now's a good enough time to start. He truly was pathetic. In all ways. He was a smoking, abusing, shithead drunk. And he knew it.
He picks up the vodka and takes heavy sips. Swallowing slow as to heighten the burn. He takes his cigarette back to his mouth for a break.

It's the wrong end.

His mouth catches on fire and he coughs violently. He falls to the ground, grabbing at grass and dirt, shoveling earth into his mouth to stop the literal flame within his mouth.

He stops the flame, but not before he stops breathing.

The disgusting slurry of saliva, ash, and dirt had choked him.

A figure emerges from behind the house, they had been watching him die.
They walk over to his lifeless body,
"Well, you fucking deserved it. Didn't you?" They growled.
Carrying his body into the house and setting him upon a chair.
A gun is pressed to the corpse's chin.
"You committed suicide" they said, like it was a statement.

The shot would not be heard by anyone else Because no one else lives on this old farmland.
And no one else ever will.