PROJECT: Absum
Oh yeah. You got sold by your own father. Sad, isn't it? You feel your chest tighten, as you watch your own memory, as if you weren't the one who'd lived through it.
Even as a twenty-two year old, your father had found some way to wreck havoc upon your life just to ameliorate his own. Accumulating all that debt from paying to kill himself (or in other terms, smoking) really hadn't gone well with his father, so of course the most logical thing to do was sell the child you didn't even live with anymore, who wanted nothing to do with you.
Well, now he really had even less to do with you.
You remembered how scary it had been, waking up one morning only to realize, half conscious that you were being dragged out of your bed.
"The debt has been paid, Mr. Fletcher." you heard them say, whoever 'they' were.
"Ah, thank you. I hope you'll find a useless kid like him usable to some extent."
"We will."
Your mind spun, who was Mr. Fletcher again? But of course it hit you in the head like a brick moments later. Fletcher, your father's last name. You'd only taken on the name Simmons, (your mother's surname), due to the fact that as stated before, you wanted nothing to do with your father, and the last name felt like a connection that had to be cut as well.
"Goodbye Percival."
You hadn't responded, watching him through half lidded eyes as you were thrown into a car.
And then everything was black.
You awoke once more. Well, no use going back to sleep, you realized, when you'd slumped back down and tried to curl into a smaller ball (which didn't really work considering you were a full grown man). Your body wouldn't let you fall back into the realm of dreams.
After all, it wasn't as if you'd see anything different, you thought.
You sat up.
Well, at least, you tried to.
You hit your head on the hard surface of the bunk above you. Muttering an 'ouch', you rubbed the tender spot you'd just bumped, frowning.
A whimper sounded from the bunk above you.
Even as a twenty-two year old, your father had found some way to wreck havoc upon your life just to ameliorate his own. Accumulating all that debt from paying to kill himself (or in other terms, smoking) really hadn't gone well with his father, so of course the most logical thing to do was sell the child you didn't even live with anymore, who wanted nothing to do with you.
Well, now he really had even less to do with you.
You remembered how scary it had been, waking up one morning only to realize, half conscious that you were being dragged out of your bed.
"The debt has been paid, Mr. Fletcher." you heard them say, whoever 'they' were.
"Ah, thank you. I hope you'll find a useless kid like him usable to some extent."
"We will."
Your mind spun, who was Mr. Fletcher again? But of course it hit you in the head like a brick moments later. Fletcher, your father's last name. You'd only taken on the name Simmons, (your mother's surname), due to the fact that as stated before, you wanted nothing to do with your father, and the last name felt like a connection that had to be cut as well.
"Goodbye Percival."
You hadn't responded, watching him through half lidded eyes as you were thrown into a car.
And then everything was black.
You awoke once more. Well, no use going back to sleep, you realized, when you'd slumped back down and tried to curl into a smaller ball (which didn't really work considering you were a full grown man). Your body wouldn't let you fall back into the realm of dreams.
After all, it wasn't as if you'd see anything different, you thought.
You sat up.
Well, at least, you tried to.
You hit your head on the hard surface of the bunk above you. Muttering an 'ouch', you rubbed the tender spot you'd just bumped, frowning.
A whimper sounded from the bunk above you.