Serenity III: ꜰʟᴇꜱʜ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ | A Prelude
May 26, 2021 18:24:15 GMT -5
Karlie Nash, James Nightingale, and 8 more like this
Post by Lissie Hope on May 26, 2021 18:24:15 GMT -5
“Dad, stop!” Robbie stood in front of his baby sister without an inkling of fear in his undersized body. He was prepared to absorb the lashing, unwilling to spend another night dabbing her wounds with cotton pads and peroxide. ‘Ma had become a bystander by this point, a chunk of meat hanging on a hook when she’d bear the brunt of the punishment, but a soulless cadaver when her crippled, protective instinct was needed. But Robbie was the prized son, the one that could get through to his father’s heart. The only reprieve when the cheap Bud Ice was sweating from his pores. “Get outta the way, boy,” ‘pa growled. Elisabeth, only seven years into this earth but with an abundance of observations beyond her years, stood tenaciously; tall and prideful and stubborn and impervious to the pain. “Go to the room, sissy. I’ll be there in a minute,” Robbie pleaded. “No!” “You ain’t gotta protect that little shit. Get outta the way!” He swung the leather, Robbie’s arm instinctively covering her face. The metal buckle connected with his brittle forearm, tearing at his flesh. He cried out in pain, protecting his sister. “See what ‘ya did? Stupid boy. I ain’t wanna see them tears, either. I ain’t raisin’ no faggots. Go to bed, goddammit - the both of ‘ya.” She grabbed him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. “Let’s go, Robbie. Let’s go watch a movie.” |
I stood alone next to the furnace, lighting the wick of the candle above the mantle. I stared deeply at that painting - there was something eerie about it, but I couldn’t quite identify it’s power. I felt a mystifying connection to an abstract design, the crimson hues had blackened and curdled with burned, frayed edges. Removing my necklace with a pendant of Robbie’s ashes from my neck, I kissed the gold-plate before placing it delicately upon the mantle. ‘Ma would be back home in a few days. I wanted to make it comfortable for her. I ran my fingers over the archway to the dining room. I visualized the chisel marks ‘pa indented into the wood every birthday. Brandishing the blade from his waistband and placing it on our skulls, cleaving those benchmarks into the cedar. Marking our growth like a proud parent; he had unconventional ways of showing he wasn’t all bad. But he wasn’t my hero. |
Robbie watched Peter Parker gain the courage to become the crime-fighting, wall-crawling, highly-intellectual Spiderman; his jaw would drop everytime his hero swung high over the city. “Shh! This is the best part!” The Green Goblin had just attacked the city, and they watched the intense battle curled in each other’s arms. She covered her eyes in horror as MaryJane fell to her impending death - but she split her fingers because she needed to see if Spiderman would save her in time. “See, sissy? Everything’s going to be okay.” They watched the rest of the movie in near-silence, only oohing and aw’ing during the heroic scenes, and during the quiet moments Robbie would turn the volume higher to drown the sounds from the adjoining bedroom. “Robbie... why are you always protecting me?” “Because I’m supposed to. It’s my job.” “Does it hurt?” She pointed to the stained gauze on his forearm, a tear running down her cheek. "No." Robbie smiled, wiping her eyes. “Thwip!” He mimicked the sound of the web shooter and pulled her in close, her infectious giggle growing louder as he tickled her ribcage. “I’m Spiderman!” |
"You said you would protect me." TO BE CONTINUED |