escape
escape from reality
a slit on her wrist
soon followed by two or three
all covering both her arms and legs
until only a group filled with lies remains after she left.
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-trigger warning: suicide, self harm, bullying, harrassm...
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It's already dark outside when the front door creaks open and in slips a figure. The door is pushed closed almost silently and then locked by the intruder. The inhabitant of the place tip toes their way deeper into the residence and pop their head into the living room where no sound can be heard.
With a sigh of relief, they wipe the sweat off their forehead and switch the lights on. They confidently walk into the small living room and make their way to the narrow kitchen. Turning the lights on, they silently shriek and jump a step back in surprise.
At the very middle is placed a circular table with two foldable chairs. And one of them is occupied by the ass that belongs to their slob of a father. In his hand he holds an empty bottle of his favourite alcoholised drink and his damp eyes are wide open and looking straight at the newly arrived person.
The man sluggishly sits up, groaning loudly and in a way that sends small shivers down their spine. The man wipes the tear stains on his face and then becomes conscious of the bottle he is holding. He squints an eyeclosed and peeks into the bottle with his other eye, only to suddenly throw the empty bottle made of glass at his child. Fortunately, they've lived together long enough for his child to develop some kind of reflexes. They crouch down and start picking up the bigger pieces of the beoken bottle.
‟What time is it?”
‟Uh... Nine, I think.”
The man frowns and straightens his position.
‟And you were out 'til that late?” He leans back into the chair. ‟The fuck do you think this place is, huh? We're not au Moulin Rouge, you brat.”
‟Ah, eh...”
‟Ya know, Mina dear...” The girl looks up and freezes at the mention of her name, slightly disgusted by the way it rolls off his tongue in such an unholy manner. Her old man picks up one of the forgotten bottles off the ground and plays a bit with it in his hands. Her eyes widen and the hair on her exposed arms and legs stand up in fear.
‟If you're so disgusted or ashamed of daddy...” He childishly taps the bottle on his head several times and watches himself do with a small smile of amazement.
Without a warning, the bottle comes flying her way and crashing onto the wall, right above her head, right where it was a second before she ducked and crossed her arms in front of herself protectively.
