Home Is Where The Abuse Is (Sascha)
Apr 18, 2013 19:01:41 GMT -5
Post by itsuki on Apr 18, 2013 19:01:41 GMT -5
[atrb=cellspacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 438px; length: 597px; background: url(http://i.imgur.com/Tqrmu.jpg); border 3px dotted #000033, btable] I think of you... [style=font: italic normal bold 26px/18px comicsansms; color: #336699; letter-spacing: -1px; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.6em #a5bbc4; text-align: right]To make the tears start to flow now[style=font: italic normal 9px helvetica; color: #666699; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.4em #c2a5a0]And that alone is enough [style=border: 5px solid #66CCFF; width: 280; background-color: #000000] [style=font: italic normal 9px helvetica; color: #666699; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.4em #c2a5a0; text-align: right]My distant voice can't reach you now, but so that someday it definitely will... |
[atrb=style, font-family: bookmanantique; word-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; border: 2px dashed #99FFFF; opacity: 0.7; width: 400px; height: 100px; color: #FFFFFF; overflow: auto] Maybe it was a bad idea leaving his room while his father was home, he was home yes and had of course gotten drunk again. It's obvious where this lead to, either sexual abuse or physical abuse but the first one happened only once before, it was physical abuse since it's a ninety percent chance it'll be physical. This lead him with another blackened eye, a bruised cheek and a riled up stomach, aching terribly like it was being ripped from him, having been punted twice in the stomach and of course was berated, his esteem was shot down once more. He was now sitting on the steps outside his home in Shinjuku, somewhere on the outskirts of the biggest red light district in Tokyo. In his hands was a stuffed kitten, yes a stuffed kitten with the >3< expression on it's face. It was a quite cute little stuffed animal but he was happy to have it, to huggle it, everything, it was all he seemed to have anymore for comfort and protected it to no end from his father, having a hint that he was behind the disappearances or destruction of his precious things. He seemed to be shaking, or trembling somewhat still shaken up by the attack and still affected by the tearing pain in his stomach, he wished he could go in and get something for it but yet there was his father in there and he just wouldn't stop with his words. Oh well, what could he do really? He lifted his shirt to reveal the black and blue bruise, damn did it look painful. He hoped that it would heal fast. Now, he felt slightly famished which was worse, he barely was able to eat cause his father always bought stuff that he didn't like. So scrawny. Now what was he to do...? Waste way, he supposes, that's the only choice left and the beatings will probably get worse so he'll go in no time, he couldn't wait...? He shook his head and gently petted the stuffed animal, his fingers brushing against the comfy, soft fabric. |
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