Tw[trigger warning] and Cw[content warning]: mentions of sex,sexual harassment and mentioning of pedophile.[i just realized how fucked up this is-sorry]
.
.
,
Minutes? Hours? To lazy to do the math-
Quackity was woke up with the blaring light that shinned right on him. He swear he could've gotten a tan. His mother's voice roar in anger, could shake the whole house, break glass, hell he could go deaf. But his mothers voice was always like that. He groaned and shooed his mother way, not wanting to hear her disgusting of a voice. Her voice reminded him of a bar. Seems fun, but a place of twisted people who are hopeless. Quackity got off his bed and let the cold floor stab his feet. His eyes had bags, countless of sleep he could never get. The bags resembles him. A bag that will never feel clean, no matter how many times you change it. No matter how many times you washed, scrubbed until it tore. It's for trash and trash only.
He walked into his bathroom, even though he was sore as fuck. His legs were glass. One wrong move and it breaks. Useless. He took a good look at himself for once. He hated how he looked. He hated how he was used. He hated how he was just a penny. Found on the streets, took in until used or got rid of. His reputation was 'the party boy' 'pranked boy' and he didnt want to ruined it with guys and girls running around telling everyone that they slept with him. He sighed at took a quick shower. When he got out he saw himself in the mirror. He wanted to puke. Hickyes. Scratches. Bruises.
A sleeping bag.
He got dressed, didnt eat breakfast, and ran to school as fast as his sore legs would let him. Once he made it to school all he heard was catcalling, bullying, the sounds of sex. Disgusting. He heard whispering, this didn't surprise him. His school always spread rumors. The most talked one was of wilbur. Wilbur, the hot, strange and a psychopath. He almost blew up the school. Keyword: almost. He would've if the police come on time. Nobody knows what happened after. But people made theory's though. Some he cant say. He was gonna open the school door if, hiss ass wasn't squeezed. He was gonna slap who ever did that, but he didnt want to be suspended. Because it was the principal. The tall, fat, yellow teeth, hippo looking bitch. He had all the power. And he used that to his advantage. He would do things without consent and sent shivers down to everybody's spine. He was a knife. Threatening people, blood, juice, slime Anything on it. Skinned any human he wanted. Caused pain and fear. Fucking asshole.
He would rather fuck his tv then this old fucker. Quackity mentally groaned, and when he turned around his whole aura changed. The way he moved his body moved, the way his words sounded, the way he smiled. That's a skill you'll start to grow when youre in Quackitys situations. He was fire, now he is snow. Cold yet everyone loved it. Getting colds, making snowman's, snowballs and more. He could control the coldness, how much snow you'll get. "Oh hello~~ principal.." Quackity said in a flirty tone. He hated this, he wish he could stab the shit out of him, until his organs spilled out, his mouth filled with blood, his eyes lifeless and- "Quackity?" The principal asked looking at Quackity in a disgusting way. A way that made Quackity want to vomit. Vomit out of his mouth, his nose."o-oh, ya?" Quackity blinked a few times he was feeling a little nervous. The principal was looking him up and down, the look in his eyes was flaming with lust. Ew.
He kept trying to flirt and get into Quackitys pants, but when the principal leaned in for a kiss, Quackitys hands went to the door handle and opened it. He quickly went in and ran to the boys restroom, leaving the principal to fall. Muffled yelling, laughing was all he heard. He ran in and shut the restroom door, panting, trying to catch his breath. It reminded him of smoking, the more you do, the more your lungs get twisted and will break. He threw his head back, hitting the door, it felt like banging a drum. He looked into the mirror and frowned. Fat, ugly, a fuck bag, a slut. He wanted to cry, but couldn't. He was taught that crying for boys were a sign of weak. Pathetic. And he believed that. He was once a flower. Beautiful, lovely. But if used to much I'd something, it will limp and break. Petals will fall, those petals were his heart. He wanted to smash the mirror.
But before he could the door opened. Revealing....
.
.
.
Wilbur.
AYOOO FIRST CHAPTER- its short because I was getting tired-
I have nothing else to say so, thank you for reading
.
.
.
-florisbloris-