(Y/n) with the superhero name, Roach.
Dealing with the traumatic life experiences of two ex-pro hero parents, one dead and one now plaguing their life. Trying to do what they can, even if they are just a bug...
It is a good thing roaches are hard t...
I leaned over the bar, the floor was covered in blood. I looked back up slowly at the body in front of me. I swung over the bar and landed with a slight splat, the blood was thick and starting to dry.
I touched the mans shoulder, pulling him back. His entire front half of his torso was gone. I pulled away and his hand latched onto me.
"h...p" he was struggling to speak. I gently laid the old man down. He was miserable, could he even make it out alive? I could see the muscles in his body, someone flayed a man alive.
I had to keep my calm, "Sir it is okay, I will get you to a hospital."
"n." He had tears pouring from his eyes, he didn't have part of his face. The wrinkles around his eyes had been cut as did what remained of his face.
The man knew he wouldn't make it. We weren't near a hospital.
"out" he pointed out of the shop. I picked the man up in my arms and took him out of the shop, he was looking up at the sky.
"sor-" his breathing hitched in his throat. I laid with his head in my lap. I pulled out some pain meds from my bag and injected it into his system. "Does this make you feel better?" He nodded his head ever so slightly. I held his hand.
He had a family. I held back my tears as he gave my hand a squeeze. He just watched the sky, his eyes slowly dimming. He placed his one hand on his chest pocket I slid my hand in it and inside was a wallet and in it had family photos. I pulled the one with what I assumed to be the full extent of his family. It had the old man, his brother, their two old wives, seven adults presumably their kids, some of the kids partners, then all of the grandchildren, some of them teenagers some of them still being held in their parents arms as babies.
I placed the photo in his hand and he seemed to smile. He was crying tears trickling down his face. He held the photo tightly in his hand and squeezed mine.
"t...nk" I nodded my head, I cried as he was trying to thank me and I nodded my head. He closed his eyes and his breathing began to slow.
I laid with the man as he died.
This was the work of a villain. Maybe I could have done more if I had gone to the vendor first.
No. The outcome would have been the same.
His family was nice. I cried when the sent me a letter asking if it would be alright for me to come to his funeral. I did. I showed up and I cried at the funeral. I cried when the hugged me. I cried when they all thanked me for being with him. They thanked me for checking in with them. They thanked me for giving him the photo to hold, for cradling him as he slowly bled into the street, for actually coming to give them closure.
I cried, I cried so hard because of what happened. I found that villain who did it to the old man, he did it to three others. I found their bodies and did the same for them as I did the old man.
I beat the shit out of that scum. He was paralyzed now from the neck down. He deserved every bit of it. It didn't bring my any sense of satisfaction, because I know their are more people like them that are on the streets.
I got pretty hurt but I didn't process much of what happened after the mans death until I found the dirty scum. I was laid up in my apartment, having a trauma episode. The meds didn't help for that one.
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1391 words.
:)
So uhh... yeah.
Did you think that the picture was cute tho? Like little bean gotta munch.
It's not like a deep bond was formed or anything so... like killing people. It works. But like it's easy. And I'm dumb.
:D So do should I, be a bit nicer to (y/n)?
Nah we got more trauma to unpack through writing. My poor fuckin therapist knows I got some experiences that I cope with through projecting onto others.
