OC stories

3 of my OCs' backstories | Song: Ballons by Mandopony

So many years,
  Flashes. Flashes of screams, pain, jealousy, hurt, envy. Horror. Regret. And fear.
So many dark memories.
  Curled up in a ball, sobbing, cold touching every inch of her body.
   Screaming as his father hit him, unable to fight back because he was drugged. He wouldn't remember, anyways.
   Pain. Pain and jealousy. Why didn't they love her as much?
So many fears
We've now put to ease.
  She didn't want anyone to recognize her. Milk chocolate brown turned to light blue. Make up was put on every morning to make sure she looked just that little bit different. No one would recognize her from the case.
   He had fled the scene. He couldn't deal with it. He fled, blood covering his hands and face, tears cutting through the blood, sweat, and tears on his face.
Friends. She only needed friends. Friends would make the hurt go away.
Pain makes you do things
You never knew you could do.
Haunted eyes and hollowed cheeks. Ribs too visible. Hospitals. She needed one. She wasn't given one. Left to starve herself and die of thirst. What did she do wrong? Why'd they all hate her?
Glittering hair covered in flecks of red. Red. RedredREDRED.
A blank gaze from deep blue eyes. Two, three thin cuts on the top of her thigh.
Is this all real?
Or just déjà-vu...?
Blue hair whirled as she spun, panting. Too dark. Too cold. Too much skin exposed. All she was wearing was long sleeves and pants she needed a jacket, blankets, nonononononononononono.
  Blood. Too much blood. More blood. Too much. Not enough. He hated it, hated the sight of red. Hated the sight of blood. Hated it hated it HATED IT.
  Again? Why again? Why? What did she do wrong?? WHAT DID SHE DO WRONG?!

But now the party's over...
Now the guests are gone...
   Star Firefly lay in bed, dark blue eyes clouded and her breath was shallow and fast. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. Not again. Not again. Never again. She wouldn't... she wouldn't let anyone do that again.
   Dawn Hawkings sat in his shelter, staring at his pale yet tanned hands. He wouldn't.. he wouldn't hurt anyone again. No. Not anymore. Not without it being self defense.
   Emily Heartstring sat, curled up in her tiny closet attached to her tiny room. She sobbed. Why did they hate her? They always ended up hating her. She always does something wrong and she doesn't know what. No one will ever tell her.
It's already past our bedtime...
It's already almost dawn...
Dark purple eyes closed, exhaustion covering him. It was too early, too late, too much pain, too much everything.
Just like balloons,
We soar on our own!
Star laughed, joking around and holding his hand. She was free. No one knew her from before. She was safe.
Dawn smiled at someone, drawing, and was trying to get the look right. Shading and colors and everything and lines- it was freeing. It distracted him from the blood on his hands.
Emily laughed and smiled, poking his nose and giggling. She called him a dork and danced around, occasionally leaning into him and snuggling for comfort.
Finally free
From the pain of our home!
   Dawn's eyes darted around. Blood on the walls, dried and caked. A few bones littered the ground. Familiar, slightly rusted tools on a cart. A huge, locked cabinet full of drugs. His dad specializes in tranquilizers.
   Emily hid in her room. Her parents were fighting again. Her sister wouldn't talk to her. Everyone hated her, everyone hated her- she didn't even get a proper room-
And just like balloons,
That no one will hold...
Star loved her parents and her parents loved her. But school was a different story. She only had &@$*\*¥~! And a few other friends. No one else. No one-
No friends. No one knew him truly. He had too many personalities to learn them all.
   Everyone would end up leaving her. No one stayed her friend. She was an awful person, she came to believe, but she wasn't. She wasn't.
Free from the truth,
That no one will know...
   Star smiled happily at that thought. No one would ever have to know what she went through. They don't have to know she knows the feeling of unfamiliar hands and the cursed, bitter cold biting into too much exposed skin.
   Dawn's eyes rested on the ground. The blood on his hands occasionally flickered in front of his eyes but no one could see. No one would ever see what he could do and has done.
   No one had to know how she was at home. Cold, tired, stressed, fearful. Hatred filling her body most of all. Things Emily tried not to express.