Impulsive

Hit and Run Bitch

(Chapter summary: Arthur hurts himself more.)

(Ideas are coming to me again, lets hope I don't blank out again.)

Arthur blocked the door with his dresser and desk. He had ran out and closed himself in, childish yes, but he didn’t want to see anyone. Arthur stood up from his bed and put his elbow to the center of the small window, he took it back and rammed into it, cracking it. He did it a few more times, getting glass in his arm, he didn’t feel it through all of the adrenaline. Arthur huffed as he vaulted through the window, cutting his legs and his feet (mind you, were bare). He turned and looked behind him, contemplating if he really wanted to go. He shook his head, of course he wanted to. He turned back around and ran, he needed to find a way back without running into anyone…

“A cliff? That's your best idea, Arthur? Fuck this shit,” he fussed, his eyes widening. He looked around to check for any other route.

Arthur rolled his eyes and whined, “goddamnit.”

He latched onto a rock and heaved himself up, good thing that he's built like a spider. Arthur got onto the rock, looking up. ‘ 3,455,891 steps to go. ’ He continued the process of what you humans call climbing , only slipping a few times.

“Success!” He threw his arms in the air and woohooed.

Just one more bolder and he would be free. He jumped up and clawed at the grass as his stomach was scratched up by the rocks. He hissed and flailed his legs, trying to grip the ground. He clenched his jaw fell down, smacking his face into a rock that was jutting out. Arthur grunted and slapped onto the rocks bellow, he clamped his hand over his nose and whimpered. It was slick, blood stained his hand.

“Shit,” he hissed, getting back to his feet, he jumped up onto the rock and made it. He put his hands on his knees and looked over the edge of the cliff.

“Holy hell.” He wiped his nose and swiped his hand on a nearby tree. “Where’s the hatch?”

He walked around for a while, often whispering nonsense to himself. He made it to the little safe house, climbing through the window, he climbed down the ladder, flopping onto the scratchy, wooden, bed. He pulled off his suit and opened his stash (it autocorrected to stomach, how lovely), pulling out his ripped up suit. Arthur looked down at his body; he was skinny but he also had some pudgy patches on his stomach and thighs. He still had his bruises and cuts decorating his sickly, pale, skin. Small scrapes on his knees, palms, and lower stomach were still aching. His nose was broken, he really smacked that rock hard thanks to gravity (Gravity: You’re welcome, bro. :) ). Arthur sighed and sat down on the bed, running a hand through his greasy hair.

Time to live off of rotten foods again.

(This week's gonna be very stressful and I'm not ready-

So basically I go to online school because I had a sexual assault and bullying problem (people were bullying me and a kid grabbed a hand full of my ass and ran with it), my parents luckily got me out. Buuuuuuut I live in Wisconsin and up here we have something called the State Test. Like it suggests it's were you take a lot of stressful fucking tests where your timed and your school get judged off of your test scores. It's hell. I need to go to a brick and mortar school to take it (making sure I'm not cheating), I have to go back to the school I left. I WENT INTO ONLINE SCHOOL TO NEVER HAVE TO STEP FOOT IN THAT SCHOOL AGAIN AND WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO?? STEP ALL OF MY FEETIES IN THAT GOD FORSAKEN HELLWHOLE.

So yeah my week's going great how's your's?)