#lovedocttor

idk what u mean suddenly I can't read I don't understand ��

          ❛ I –– ahh... I need flowers. the living kind. ❜ 

          what the hell, bobby?

    Abby had spent countless nights tossing and turning in bed at her parent’s harsh words. They began without cause, without good reason, leaving her to wonder what she had done wrong, what she did to make them think she deserved verbal lashings. She would stand there every time, never really knowing what to do. What can you do anyways?, she asks to no one, I was always their perfect little girl.

    And one night it’s all too much.

    They leave the house in drunken daze to search for more alcohol, but not before grabbing her roughly by the collars of her shirt and telling her how much of whore she was, how irresponsible she became, how she had ruined their family’s good name. The words were bullets, coming in from every direction. It stung and she didn’t know why – she had never felt this way before.

    She sat in the bedroom, not aware of the fact that the front door had been left wide open, that her bedroom was no sanctuary to hide in. She took in rough breaths, hot tears pouring over her cheeks like streams. Her arms burned where her father and mother had grasped her. She tugged at her hair and kept asking why, why why?

    Abby only then takes notice of Raph when he steps into the doorway of her bedroom. She looks up and pauses, gathering her thoughts. And then suddenly — she gives a smile.

                   “Surprise, surprise – you’re not the only shitstorm in town anymore.”

    Opens doors attracted Raph like cheese did mice. They were portals to a brand new walk of life, he found, fore every family’s home was a little different. Some clean and some messy, some brimming with artifacts of togetherness, others barren as a high school hallway in the summer time. New worlds were beautiful things. Just as much as they were tragic things. He knew his own home was a picture that painted out many words. Divorce being the most eminent one.

    His own hallowed halls were filled with empty places where pictures had once been, hooks never taken off the wall, and among the blank, a few pictures that had been left. Ones featuring himself alone, or himself with just his mother. She hadn’t even bothered cut out his father and keep the rest of the pictures, for some that depicted cherished memories. She’d burned them, he’d learned, long after the fact.

    The pictures were the most glaring details. There was always more, though. The extra and unused chair at the kitchen table. The one or two mugs his father had forgotten to take. Even the off-white walls were a reminder that the old man had once lived in that house. His mother hated the shade. But his father had insisted, when the house was built.

    Sometimes he found the same things, behind other doors. Not this one, though. Most certainly not. Eyes open for details, he wandered in. Sure, this probably wasn’t legal, but it wasn’t as though he was hurting anyone. There were worse crimes, weren’t there? The boy walked onward. Up silent steps. And that was when there was another wide-open door staring him down. Behind it, a familiar face from the hell that was high school.

    Raph frowned. Attempting to look inconspicuous ( as much as one could when trespassing ) he approached the door, then leaned a shoulder on it. Saying nothing. Hardly even watching, but listening, rather. Until she noticed him. Then, some nerves kicked in, and were just as quickly killed.

♧- We don’t interact but I really like your blog

                 “ it’s fine, please. it’s uh        are these supposed to be sticky? ”