(( MEMORY PROMPTS MEME •• @duelcafe said: [ [ blue ] for a sad memory @ rouga ] ]
[ blue ] — for a sad memory
His little hands grasped at the thin blanket across his body. Rouga tried his best not to cry as he heard his parents fighting in the next room — this wasn’t a usual thing — and he merely shoved his face into his scrappy little pillow, the fact that it had no pillowcase made his cheek break out in itchiness.
There was a crash; his Father was throwing things, again. When he would do it in the day time, his mother would pick him up against her hip and they’d go to the market, or just take a walk — and wait for his Father to get out his anger — but nothing helped as the times grew more frequent.
Silently he cried, muffling his mouth with the pillow, just hoping he’d not have the same itchiness in his mouth. He was allergic to whatever the pillow was made from — later he learned that it was a type of cotton, made in his hometown, by children his own age back then — and his tears dampened the material, stinging his eyes.
Pretty soon the crashing and yelling stopped. and the rickety door to Rouga’s room opened. He was deathly silent, hoping they hadn’t heard him sobbing. Heavy steps lumbered toward the bed — a makeshift pile of sheets and patchwork — and Rouga smelled it: Alcohol.
He held his breath as a hand was placed on the side of his head. “Brat, so glad you’re sleepin’ but I hate to do this to ya...” Ruffling his hair. Rouga felt the hand leave in the darkness; he wanted to grab it at the last moment, but stopped himself.
His Father’s steps went from the room as his parents suddenly made up like they always did, though his Mother was crying. “How can we—” And she sobbed into her husband’s chest.
“It’s for the best, we can’t stay here. Ya know I don’ wanna hurt ‘im.” Rouga’s Father said as he looked back at the door to where his son was cradled and sleeping he thought.
Rouga heard his parents leave and close the door behind them — though they locked it because they still loved him — and he cried again, beating fists against the blankets, not knowing the reason.
