#trappcdbird

                        It was a cool Thursday morning & the boy had already gone through an argument with his mother. No day went where he didn’t. As time went on, as the pressure within him tightened, the verbal lashings became more frequent & less tactful. Making his way out of the door, he walked down & out of the ominous house ( & his mother’s obsession ). Lawrence Harvey, his mother’s supposed boyfriend, once again tried speaking with him— Tate ignored him, declining his offer to give him a ride to school. He needn’t be repeated the same BULLSHIT about he wanted to be his friend. He was an idiot & Tate was not about to give him the time of his day. After what’d happened to his family due to his infidelity with his own mother, he was shocked he still had it in him to preach about family values.                  It disgusted him.                         Now across the street, feeling the process of decompression begin, he took a spot on the sidewalk. Waiting for the Whalen girl to make her way out the door. He never truly sought for companionship, he seldom felt the need to. Today was no different. But Phoebe, she was the perfect distraction to disconnect from the dysfunction at home. They’d known each other since they were children, to date it surprised him his mother had managed to attract someone’s good nature into befriending her ( Phoebe’s own mother & –in turn– the reason they met ). Nevertheless, Tate had grown fond of her. Phoebe. She was intelligent & kind— & the most shocking of all, he’d found throughout the years, was that he enjoyed her company. So he waited for her.

Costance was roaming through empty endless corridors, face hidden in the shadows, pale and motionless, like a statue carved in marble. Hollow eyes, dead like the eyes of a puppet, chapped livid lips so longing from warm blood soothing her sore throat. Blood withdrawal, endless dose of pills, fresh burns after electroshock therapy on her temples, weakened her body and her senses but it didn’t silenced voices beyond the grave. Phantoms indispensably accompanied her during wanderings, step by step, soundlessly slipping amongst the shadows. This day their voices and loud train sound were so loud that Constance could barely handle them. Spirits clung not only to her but also to the brunette wailing woman attracting death, swirling around them like a sworn of bees. 

exActly my thoughts k

A smile forms as the young waitress refills the white mug that sits in front of him on the counter, though he doesn’t actually look at her again until he’s lifted it to his lips and taken an appreciative sip.