RAM
Send me RAM for a random memory from my Muse’s mind! (accepting)
It was an accident. He would swear again and again — without crying, he was not allowed to cry—that he had just tripped and fell on the table, knocking the bottle with brandy on the floor. Now the carpet had stained and mother’s favourite drink was gone. It was accident, but it was the worst thing he had done and they would kill him for it. Even if he managed to clean the carpet, even if he bought a new bottle, they would still be really mad. Especially his father…Edward didn’t even want to think about it. He had been this scared before but now he felt more terrified than ever before —even though every time it felt like that, because he could never be sure what his father would do to him. So he ran. Even though it would make matters so much worse when he got back, so he run. He just…he just wanted to avoided the consequences for just a little bit longer.
