Bandaged Hearts

Chapter 3

"Hypocrite! You're a damn hypocrite!"

"Well then stop shouting at me!"

"I won't stop shouting at you! You stop shouting at me!" My sight is blurred with the firey red of my pumping blood.

She doesn't put her guard down, still throwing word after word in my face. I stand there, my feet going numb and my brain shutting down. As her spit still flies with every word she spits in disgust, I start giving up. My ears have turned off. My eyes have gone considerably dim.

"Grow up a bit, (y/n)."

With those final words, my feet finally move. I swiftly pass my mom to get to my room.

"Where do you think you're going," she inquires with a snarl.

"Away from you!"

I slam my wooden door shut, locking it from the inside. I carry myself to my comfy twin sized bed. I face plant right into the (f/c) comforter. It feels so comforting to lay in blissful silence. Just like HOMRA.

"HOMRA..." I whisper the name, running the faces and names of the members through my head.

The face of a certain hazel eyed boy catches me off guard. I grumble a bit. "His clan did save me from my mom... and they treated me like family," I think, staring out my window.

I climb off my bed, heading to my... less than messy desk. I plop down into my swivel chair, swinging back and forth while staring at the art sketches. My hand hovers over a new sheet of paper, hesitating to grab it.

"Oh screw it," I grumble, taking the new sheet of paper.

I set it on top of the other papers, grabbing a blue sketch pencil. In my mind, I picture a new home. One that will let me feel what it's like to have a family.

Maybe they'll fix my spirit and lead this ant back on the right track. I smile to myself, sketching out a small picture with the members I saw at HOMRA. They all have their own poses, warm and welcoming eyes peering out of the paper as if they were alive. As a (s/c) hand sketches the visual picture from my head, a knock sounds from my abused door.

"(Y/n)? Can you come out please," my mom's calm voice asks.

My hand stops, heart starting to pound with rage once more. "Go away," I coldly reply. I go back to drawing, completing the pencil draft.

"Come on (y/n). You know I love you," she tries coaxing the stabbing words she just punched me with minutes ago.

"If you loved me, you wouldn't have said anything like that."

Dead silence fills the house, a thick tension growing from behind the door and inside the door. A quiet, gentle sigh slices through the air. "(Y/n). You know that I just want to keep you safe, right?"

I sit in my chair in total silence.

"Answer me, sweetie. Say something at least," she says, almost pleading to me.

I think before replying to her gag worthy tone. "Go away," I coldly retort.

A ragged sigh echos from behind the door, a banging noise shocking me. "You truly are ungrateful," she hisses, storming off to her room.

I let go of the anger in me, letting it all out in one big exhale. I run my fingers through my (h/c) hair, leaning in on that arm. My tired (e/c) eyes look for a drawing pen, not finding one on deck. So for my substitute, I resort to using a black ink brush. I begin inking in the picture, grabbing a pale pink and red brush as well.

"These should work," I comment, switching colors every now and then to cause things to pop.

Inking was quick and surprisingly accurate. Now the eyes. I stare at each of the members, trying to recall some of the member's eye color.