Tristan Strings Is Not Normal

3

(TRIGGER WARNING: Abuse)

" I do believe you are smart Tristan, it's just you need to work harder"

"but I'm trying my best"  he replied, his voice confident

"try harder, I don't care boy, you need this for your so you're going to do what I say"

"but I'm trying my best" his voice softer, almost broken.

A shrill smack echoed endlessly around the empty halls. Another followed. And then another.

"Try harder" the voice was harsh and full of hatred.

Tristan woke with a start. His chapped, peachy lips opened slightly to let out a gasp for air as he sat up on his springy bed. His tongue was stinging, the metallic taste of blood overwhelming his senses. He coughed, blood spitting out of his mouth onto his white bedsheets. He stared at the bedsheets, the blood adding to the blotches of red on the sheets already. The messy haired boy grimaced and ignored the blood he could feel on his lip.

He turned his head slowly to look at his old alarm clock, the red L.E.D light illuminating his small wooden desk.

4:48, the clock blinked

His mind was empty and he tried to ignore his shaking hands as much as he could, blinking away the dizziness he felt earlier.

Tristan sat still, his breathing shallow. What he felt constantly was pain. It was excruciating. His back throbbed. His head hurt like anything. His hands were shaking and cold. His eyes burned. His legs felt like weights on his body, holding him down.

"what's the point in being awake" his voice was hoarse and gruff. He was exhausted, he was out of ideas to distract himself, he'd much rather have a gun put to his head and blow his brain to bits than to be awake right now.

His nose was blocked. He needed to go to the bathroom but couldn't muster the energy to lift a single finger, let alone get up and go to the bathroom.

Tristan's weight was too much for him to carry. He hit the springy bed with his back hard and the floorboards groaned as he ignored the feeling that someone was wrapping their hands tightly around his neck like a vice.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't breathe, why couldn't he breathe?

Tristan forced his lips were apart and tried to make a noise. There was no sound. His dry throat felt as though it had collapsed on itself. He tried again, letting out a strangled cry.

No one heard him.

The ticking of a clock was all he could hear as he stopped trying. He stopped trying. Tristan's eyelids were shut as he saw a flicker of his mothers face. He had to do this for her.

He opened his eyes, gasping loudly, inhaling as much hot air as he could. Coughing softly, he closed his eyes again.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 23 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34-

Tristan felt the numbers run through his head as he began to count aimlessly, a small habit of his.

He didn't sleep again that night.
 
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Hi darlings, sorry I haven't been writing at all. I have been struggling to express myself recently so I've turned to writing.

I hope you've all enjoyed - Ev