Phase Jumper

First

Chrona slammed the front door behind him and stormed off of the porch, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. The heat in his chest wouldn't go down, along with his heart rate. The fingers of his free hand tapped his thumb frantically, but he wasn't really in control of it. He could barely rein in the questions he was asking himself, trying to form a plan even though it was impossible. He winced at the screech of the front door opening again.
"Chrona!" Her voice was as terrifying as ever. His heart skipped several beats and he fought to keep his hand from shaking as badly as it wanted too, "Get back inside!"
His next few steps were hesitant as he resisted the urge to freeze. But Chrona kept walking without looking back at the house, "You have nowhere to go! You'll be back, I know it."
Chrona didn't hear the door close, even as he reached the end of the driveway and began to storm past the perfectly manicured lawns on either side of him. He wouldn't see them again, but he imagined the faces of his supposed siblings looking past their mother at his back as he left. Honestly, he had no idea how the four of them would react, but his mother's reaction, especially after their argument, was just as he'd expected it. Frightening.
The tapping got worse, creating a rhythm with his steps.
It was a pity that he couldn't see her face when he proved her wrong. But she was right about one thing, he had nowhere to go. It wasn't as if his few friends knew what was going on. Maybe he would just go to the park after all...
Realizing his breathing was irregular, Chrona forced a long, slow breath. Even though it was shaky, it helped a little. He took another and his mind began to have a grasp on clarity. He had money. He had a warm blanket. He'd be able to go for a few nights on his own, maybe even get out of town, if he found a cheap enough ticket for a magnet train.
He looked up at the moon, halfway hidden by the haze and light pollution. It's cold crescent stared back, offering none of the warmth that he'd lost the chance to feel. Chrona turned his gaze ahead again; tonight was the only night that mattered for now. It was only a few blocks to the nature park. He'd rest there and try to figure something out.
"Figure something out..." he mumbled to himself, repeating it over and over again. It was assurance; he wouldn't have to worry too much about the future, just what was happening in the now.
The tapping escalated, changing from his fingers against themselves to his fist against his hip. Why wouldn't it stop? He was okay, there was no one around, and there was no reason to feel so on edge. Was he still, in the dead of night on a walkway in the open, begging for attention when there was no one to give it? His free hand shot up and the wrist banged against his skull. No matter what the reason, he was only in this mess because of the mistakes he'd made. His mother had said as much. He'd heard it so often, his heart sank at the truth of it all.
Pressure started building in Chrona's head, as if he had to sneeze or yawn. Almost against his will, he started shaking and hitting his head in rapid succession. What a sight I'd make, he thought to himself. But what it implied made him want to hit himself more.
Gradually, it petered out, the throbbing pain in his temple from the repetitive blows satisfying the pressure. He blinked, slightly disoriented. Looking ahead, he realized he'd still been walking during that episode. The park was in sight, and the path he was on led right into it. Chrona crossed the boundary between the residential properties and the nature park. Almost instantly, he could feel the difference in the air. Manicured though it was, the greenery around him let off a fresh scent. He breathed it in and sighed heavily, his fatigue catching up with him. His eyes felt heavy, but he couldn't close them yet.
On either side of him, bushes and trees grew together thickly, the sky obscured by the thin canopy. Here and there, he could hear the sounds of creatures stirring; an owl hooting, nightingales serenading each other, a fox preparing to pounce. Nothing here was tied to long histories, no dark feelings that oppressed everything. Just an air of simple freedom. Chrona sighed heavily, a timid smile edging his way across his face.
He strayed off the pavement, into a thicket of trees he'd navigated before. Picking his way through the underbrush and around the thick trunks, he came to the edge of a sparser wood, populated by old trees and rotting logs. Half the wood was overtaken by fungi and lichen, vines and moss. This far into the park, Chrona assumed the caretakers weren't so concerned with how things looked, which might've explained why such natural beauty still existed in the middle of the city. An old, wide magnolia tree was leaning over the ground, inviting him with its low-hanging branches.
As naturally as walking, Chrona tightened the strap of the bag and used both his arms to pull himself up into the tree, getting his legs over the almost horizontal trunk. From there, he twisted and crawled up the tree. It intersected with another tree that seemed to have fallen against it, and they were now growing together, forming a natural cradle. He took a seat and leaned against the sturdy wood around him. Now, he could let it hit him.
The tears came almost immediately, causing him to blink them out. They stung, releasing the pain of being held back. His breathing once again became irregular, giving way to sobs. In the fervor of his emotion, he couldn't help but look around for someone, anyone, who would be willing to to give him affection. When he realized that was what he was doing, he shook his head violently and pressed his temples.
He was alone.
No one loved him.
He was alone.
No one loved him.
Chrona rocked back and forth, repeating those thoughts over and over, trying to make himself realize it.
Eventually, the crying stopped. The rocking stopped. His feelings stopped. Now there was just a hollow ache in his chest, heavy from the tears he'd shed. He blinked, his mind trying to figure out what to feel, what to do. Chrona still heard the invasive thought of loneliness. But now, because he'd looked for someone, the thought of punishment crossed his mind. Not offering any resistance, he shrugged his bag off and dug into it, searching for one thing.
He found it by touch, not quite being able to see into the bag in the half-light. He pulled it out and pushed the release trigger. Sharp moonlight glinted off of it briefly before Chrona turned the wrist of his right arm skyward. Hesitantly, he touched the exposed point of the blade against his skin, skin marked by criss-crossing scars. Some were healed, some were still angry scabs.
He took a deep breath and tensed up his left arm, ready to slash. There was nothing to stop him, except... he let his arms fall to his sides, exhausted. This wasn't the time or place. If he did it now, he would be vulnerable, and he had to be ready to run at all times. Being so tired was bad enough. Chrona put away the knife.
A chill ran across his skin, raising goosebumps. Usually, the cold didn't bother him too much, but this time, it caused him to shiver. Pulling his blanket out of the bag, he hugged it tight around him, leaning against the sturdy wood of the magnolia. The cold kept coming, relentless, and unusual for this time of year. But he had to bear it alone. His eyelids became heavy, despite the shivering. He didn't quite want to sleep yet, but he knew he had to, if he were to be ready for the morning. As he started to drift off, Chrona could only think of the situation he was in. How messed up it was. How it was his fault. Before he surrendered to the gentle pull of unconsciousness, his last thought was a wish. One that he could go back to a time before he'd destroyed any chance of normal life he might've had.