Ｓｔｏｉｃ [ᴍᴀʀᴋᴇʟʟ's s/ᴍʙ] {DISCONTINUED}

🚬 Nine Cigarettes 🚬

The recent events swirled in Markell's head vividly, not a detail being missed. In his hands was his axe, being held tightly. So tightly in fact, Markell's knuckles became white as it was rave that fueled him at the moment. The Dane felt anger consuming him and even his calming breathing failed as it too became tainted with rage.

Out of anger, Markell threw his axe at the wall with a frustrated shout. The axe stuck deeply into the wall due to the force behind it but Markell didn't seem to care. He sat back on his bed with a soft sigh as he seemed to slowly be calming down. He noticed his journal on his nightstand and picked it up, examining a little. After a moment or so of mental debating, he sighs and begins to write.

Journal,

I got Bernard's emotions back. But Hillevi, my mother, ruined that. You don't understand how long it took. How many years guilt ate at me for what I did. I couldn't forgive myself for what I had done. Until I was able to change that.

She also said I'm going soft. She's wrong. I'm not. Being protective is not a soft trait. And I've always been protective. I may love my mother but I will never love how cold and heartless she can be. And unfortunately, I'm well aware I have that side in me...oh Odin, I showed that side when

Markell stopped writing. Not paused. Stopped. He put his pen down and simply looked forward. As realization hit him that he had used that coldness on Bernard when he left, guilt consumed the Dane.

"He hates me. He has to hate me. I but him through almost as much as mother. I...I'm no better than her, am I.." Markell asks himself, looking down at the ground now as he was sitting on the edge of his bed.