「trashmouth」 reddie

05

the breeze of the open window blows against richie's bare chest, causing the skin to raise with goosebumps. the contact of the cold night's breeze kept him awake, as he holds onto his shivering limbs, craving warmth. he wouldn't allow himself to lay in bed, the adrenaline bumping through his system skyrockets at just the simple thought of closing his eyes, his heart stuck in his throat.

the streets were ghost-quiet, the only buzzing noises heard were the thoughts swarming so violently inside richie's head–bouncing back and forth. without realizing it, richie digs his nails into the side of his bare thigh, just above his boxers. he doesn't flinch at the sudden pain, instead he digs deeper, almost as if he did maybe the thoughts would go away and the pain would silence them just for a little while.

you're worthless. no wonder your parents left you. the words slap his skin, leaving behind bruises in their trial, each syllable a punch for each time richie had been a disappointment to his parents. maybe if i wasn't born they'd be happy. that thought occurred to richie a lot. all the what if's flood his brain, overwhelming him to the point he was pretty sure he was drowning. drowning in his own puddle of tears and self pity.

the flutter of his eye lids brought him back to reality, the boy jumping slightly as his head falls to the side, exhaustion taking its course on richie's aching muscles that screamed for him to sleep. he tries to fight the gnawing urge to close his eyes and relax his breathing, but the fight was lost before had the chance to slap himself awake.

echoes within the walls of richie's small bedroom boom on everything, shaking and rattling the place. he jumps awake, but he could hardly move, his limbs stuck to the seat as he fights the force holding him back.

the echoes of shouts grow louder, replaced by voices richie could pick out in a criminal line up right away; mom and dad.

this was different.

their voices were filled with an emotion richie couldn't quite put his finger on, but he knew it was one they never showed him. they only showed richie abandonment and loneliness.

richie could feel himself screaming but the vibrations of his voice never seem to hit his ear drums. he feels the wet tears glide down his dirty cheeks. he feels his fist pounding against the glass, with so much force he was positive it would've been broken by now. but the glass never seems to break yet richie keeps fighting screaming for his parents to let him inside. they never do.

for what seems like hours richie stands outside of the door pounding for them to let him in. to take care of him. but they never move from their spot.

richie feels his body start to give out, the fear settles in his bones. they weren't going to let him in. he would die alone out here in the freezing cold. a fear of his. dying.

with a startled gasp richie finds himself awake his bones shaking not only from the cold breeze from his open window but the fear that always seemed to choke him. he couldn't breathe. his lungs try to suck in air but nothing was going in. i'm dying. he heaves for a breath shaky hands wrapping their arms around his already freezing body. wet patches glide down his cheeks his eyes screwed shut.

richie hoped that with his mother gone the nightmares would subside for a bit, maybe even not be as bad as they were getting. but of course that never happens. they always got worse. he feared deeply that his mother wouldn't come back. just like his dad.

when richie is finally able to allow a shaky breath out and take one in he rolls over towards his nightstand grabbing his glasses and the new pack of cigarettes he had stolen from his mother's collection. hopefully she wouldn't notice the missing pack.