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❝ 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒊'𝒎 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ❞
—bite the hand , boygenius
trigger warning(s): sexual assault, gore, blood,
THALIA SANTANA COULD NOT REMEMBER THE LAST TIME SHE HAD FELT NORMAL. Felt as though the world wasn't truly against her in every aspect, as if she was the devil, ready to destroy whatever was wrong with the world. Maybe it was when she was a child, though even then, the world was out to get her. Normalcy was an uncommon factor in her life. She did not blame herself for that, though; the world had erupted her life into one of chaos, before normalcy had been thrown out the window.
Her parents had led her away from a life of sanity, the belief that nothing could affect their children. Their children were strong, and could handle a small amount of chaos in their lives. They could handle a move across countries, and their separation. Nothing could affect them.
Thalia wished her parents didn't think that way. She wondered if her parents had given the ideas more thought, before they had chosen to leave the only life she and her brother had known. Then again, her parents rarely thought. Usually, they would act, with no intelligence behind their actions, which would result in something bad happening. Like when her parents had chosen that going their separate ways was what they needed, after already fleeing their home country. After settling in a promising city, their children still so young, the innocence still prevalent on their faces, would not know normalcy. The beginning of the end, maybe.
In front of a tombstone sits a rotting vase of flowers (the vase was starting to crack, lines forming all around, though no one chose to change the pot, hands covered in blood whenever one would touch it), petals falling down to hit the ground. The gravestone does not look much better, the words covered by dirt, blacking out some letters. She wonders whether or not it was intentional, delivered by some God in the sky whom wanted to destroy her life. They had done it before, why not try now?
Her fingers trace over the buried letters, a sigh escaping her lips as she stands up. Sounds cross her ears, a slight mist dimming her sight when she looks around. The sounds stop, and she cannot erase the fear that overtakes her body; the area has always been eerie, though never like this. It has never made her look twice, for her own safety. She was not safe here [had she ever been?], as the sounds come to a deafening halt. She misses the sound for a moment, as it makes her not the only person there. She's not alone.
