#queued:

❛ has father been cruel to you, child? ❜

          TIME AND TIME AGAIN, hands are dirtied by the blood of a sinner who even GOD could not save. The body that commits this treason against the commandments given by thy heavily father is merely a vessel that houses destruction with utmost love. Even if Mother Jezebel had left into the darkness ( taking the spoils of ‘war’ ), the vagabond was left with cheeks painted crimson with the aftermath of a struggle to clean up for. Thankfully the alley is empty and secluded away, where not even the living would speak against him.

          Bandaged fingers curl around discarded garments that are torn and frayed at the edges, using the fabric to swipe across his cheek. Instead of wiping off the liquid that clung to him it smudged, no amount of cleaning would be able to let him be PURE AGAIN. His cheek ignited from the friction of fabric against soft skin, red rising from his flesh and then he stops. Grief strikes him as usual and so does guilt but those are constant feelings he easily shoulders. Someone was there watching him all along and it wasn’t MOTHER. Upper lip curling up in defense so that teeth are bared ( a monster even without her ), hands balled into fists as legs bend into a crouch.