Delicate

Chapter 4

With or without his money, I was leaving. I was going to get as far from them as I could, for my own reasons rather than their own. And I'd be damned if I didn't take all that money when I was going, it wasn't hurting my pockets.

The plan was to go to a tiny town known as Wolveshedge. The name suggested a shit hole to me, but to each was his own.

I wouldn't be going unless it checked all my boxes and it did, despite its name. The town's crime rate was practically none existent, with ninety nine percent of deaths due to natural causes rather than by another's hand.

I picked my destination the only way I knew how, picking up a dart and throwing it at my father's painting of the map of America. I spent the afternoon using the map as a target and got Francis to read me the name of the last dart to land in the canvas.

I destroyed it in the most subtle way I could. What can I say, im a spiteful person. I know how much he loves that painting and I hate it with my entire being. Hate it almost as much as I hate the obnoxiously, large flag he kept hung up outside.

So filling the map up with as many holes as I could was my little way of saying fuck you. Well that alongside letting Sassy run around wherever she pleased. She went up and down the hallways, dropping her fur everywhere.

Despite how much I wanted to, I couldn't necessarily tell him to his face to fuck off, he refused to be in the same room as me ever since the incident.

I wasn't very fond of my father before it, but he was still my dad and a piece of me clung to a feeble hope of him accepting me despite it all.

He didn't.

He in fact, recoiled with everything he had. Even puked while I was still in the hospital bed. I laid there, bones broken and unable to open my eyes while he berated me with everything he had.

My fingers curl around the collar of the last shirt, tightening around it as I looked down at the blended image of my clothes. A pile of mixed yet separate colors, stacking over one another as if to purposefully confuse me.

I sigh and dump the last shirt down before I make my way to the bathroom. I had every light on inside of my room, along with strategically placed lamps on the floors pointing upwards.

Major fire hazard? Yes. But I found it very difficult to gather the strength to care.

The lights illuminated every nook and cranny in my bedroom, making it practically effortless for me to get around without crashing into something. Thus, limiting the number of times I swore out in pain and frustration, usually cursing everyone in the world to burn to death.

Once in the bathroom, I splash cold water onto my face before pulling away and looking at my reflection.

There really wasn't much to look at there, there was a blur of poorly styled hair and identical, clear eyes that stood out from the rest of my face. I found that the most cruel part of this whole thing, the one feature I didn't have trouble seeing was the one that stopped me from seeing everything else.

My fucking eyes.

That being said, even though I couldn't truly distinguish the features of my face in my reflection, I knew my face well enough to know what was there. But looking at myself now, I saw a hazed version that scared me, the reflection mirroring someone else not me.

I pull away angrily and turn back to my room. I make my way to the small, sound asleep black ball on my bed and slide next to her. She barely moved at my presence and as I brought my face right besides her, I could see her a lot better.

I rubbed her tiny head gently with my finger. Smiling at the softness I felt beneath it, the feeling calming the explosive core deep inside.

I continue to pet her until my eyes fade shut and I fall asleep besides the only thing left in this world which actually liked me.