Oct 23, 2023
the thunderstorm sounds like gunfire. he flinches, jerks his shoulder back like he's been shot, and peers sleep-addled, worn to the bone, at his reflection. there's a rock in his throat, an anchor hooked to the back, peeling him open - wrenching his ribs apart - leaving his heart to bear. the mirror speaks. "you're not normal," it whispers, pursed lips appearing cracked and copper bitten, "and you've never been."
selective & multi-ship oc. as penned by jk. 21+ ( explorations of : trauma responses, who is the monster and who is the man, survivor's guilt, found family, a dog eat dog world, and always, love. )