Sad, Sick and Twisted

“It’s alright mister.” she replied to him,forcing a polite smile and  trying not to let her voice shake (such would be informal of her-!) “I’m being punished too.” 

She extended her forearm to him, stitched tightly back together after it had been dismembered- fresh cuts and pricks where they had drawn blood from her and repeatedly tested how well her blood was clotting.

{{ L }} No matter how brief the other talked about her mother Leif’s blood always began boiling, humans hear stories of ghost, ghouls, and monsters under their bed yet are blissfully unaware how close the real monsters are. The demon sure hoped that bitch was dead and if not never met him, Lumi, or Avis.

εїз - “Something...like that.” It hadn’t only just ‘started’ to get at her. When she slowly became old enough to understand there were different ways of thinking about things, she had also come to the conclusion that her mother had been sick...she had been sick. Although morals weren’t black and white anymore- there were certainly things she would label as wrong.

She tried not to give her old mother the privilege of being thought about, still.  Especially since she knew it could make her brothers angry.

Like read this for a minute

and just think about what this implies- that Hibana’s mother was perfectly fine with permanently multilating and permanently crippling a child if it meant they could be taught to be ‘proper’? The fact that Hibana probably had to deal with threats of having her eyes gouged out or her feet cut off if she didn’t listen to what she taught her? That she didn’t care about doing lifelong physical damage to her and Hibana still thinks this is completely acceptable and normal and still holds her mother in very high regards because she has never been taught any better

“Play?” she repeated, head tilting for a moment. She hardly ever got told to do that- only when Genkaku wanted to left alone. That was never a word mama used. But her growling stomach agreed with the suggestion of something to eat.

{{ L }} “Owl? Can’t say that I have.” 

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ - Those aren’t exactly things she liked talking about- once because she was too scared to, and later because it twisted and burned at her heart with her own guilt. She wasn’t surprised she hadn’t mentioned him. Nor any of the people she had killed, for that matter.

“My mom used this...technique on me when I was little. For every vegetable I didn’t eat she’d cut off a piece of my skin.” It surprised her how even her tone stayed- remembering just how normal she had used to think that was “After the prison hired me- I used it on someone. An inmate I was told needed punishing. I’m not sure what his real name was- but everyone called him ‘Owl’.” 

εїз - There is nothing but hesitance in the young child’s face as she look at the stranger that greeted her. Just where had stumbled into? She had to be careful in this new place not to tarnish the floor with the blood that occasional spilled from the stitched incisions across her body. 

“Sewing-?” she parroted “I’m not sure- mama said I should learn that to be a proper lady- but I’ve never done it...”

“It’s midnight, where the hell were you?!”

“Stop keeping your phone in silent, you got me worried!”

“Blood? Are you bleeding?”

“I don’t like the idea of you walking down the streets all alone.”

“I thought I would never see you again…”

“We should get you to hospital.”

“Where did all those bruises came from?”

“I have the right to be worried!”

“Have you been drinking? You look terrible.”

“Sleep at my place tonight.”

“I don’t feel safe letting you be alone when you’re in that shape.”

“Please talk to me about it.”

“Let me take care of you.”

“You need to rest now. Don’t move.”

“How many times have I told you to not go there?”

“You could’ve died, you know…”

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help, I’ll do it anyways.”

“You really need to stop drinking. I’m serious.”

“This time you got yourself into a hospital. I think that’s a sign.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You need to stop doing stupid shit like that or you will get yourself killed.”

“I’m your friend, of course I care!”

“You know I’m always here for you, right?”

“You’re not okay.”

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“Let me clean your wounds…”