Those times that never were.

 

Another day, in my room, cowering from my family. They bang on the door, trying to convince me to come out, but I never do. They act like its all OK and that everything will be fine, but I’ve caught onto their charade. It may be OK for a few days or even hours, but it all just goes back to the way it was.

There’s a laundry hamper that connect my room to my sisters, and a tube that goes down to a basket in the downstairs bathroom. They put a board up to cover the hole, and usually put food on the board. Even though I haven’t eaten in 48 hours, and my mouth waters like a river, I leave the food. Just looking at it makes me sick because it reminds me of the pity that fills our house constantly.

Whenever someone in my house does something wrong, they try to make up for it by doing something. For example, if my dad makes a huge fight, then never says sorry (he’s mentally incapable of saying sorry or please since I’ve only ever heard it once in 15 years) he buys something for us, or takes us somewhere. Most people would see that as a gesture of kindness and love, but my eldest sister and I see right through it, but my middle sister always enjoys them, and therefore sticks up for him.

Pains of hunger and exhaustion are making me drowsy, and I can barely write anymore. My dozens of historical fiction and documentary books are spread out everywhere, and papers with drawings and writings of great tales covered the floor. I’ve been writing a book for so long, and I had hoped to get it published. It was called “Darkest Magic”, and it was an action story with a hint of love in it, containing a hybrid elf that tries to save his lost homeland, only to discover that he was betrayed. He ends up killing his lover and becomes a mercenary in the Band of Seven.

Several hours ago, I decided that I would leave my mark. I took my whittling knife, and carved a message in the blood red paint that coated my walls. This message read, “Soon to be, in that dream life. I will walk among the dead and the fallen, earning my name amongst their titles. Never again, shall I fear my life, but forever shall I cherish what I made it.”