"you'll will never amount to nothing, you-"

Suddenly, "It", was woken. Fear, perhaps? That couldnt be explained any
better. But it went on with the day, as if nothing has happened. February
12th, or 13th? That couldnt be any less useful than the fact that cobweb
are building up in the pile of foul laundry, or the seemingly well-used
toothbrush. To school it was.

The day started off as usual, many time felt overwhelming, many time
suffocating. Escapement is inevitable, it thought, but oh so long is the
hours hand turning, and it doesnt help that time, isnt in the essence for its
mind. Friends gathered, cheers were cried out, and happy moments came
fleeting by. But nothing stayed. Nothing, but the monstrous, imminent
wait of departure that kept hold of the movable prison of flesh that held
the mind together. School ended, thank god for another day without
feeling insecure, at the very least. The road now feel so light and warm,
any thoughts of laying down onto the hard, bare asphalt after a crash
seemed almost tempting, as the brain tries to playfully tune out into a
song while make haste down in the same, monotonous walk back home.

Tomorrow was the day that "It" get to go back home, it supposes. Lying on
the crappy bed, filled with odor and the crappy sensation of unkempt leg
hairs and long strands of hair on the cover, it fell asleep despite the futile
struggle to stay awake for another hour, hoping to sleep the day away.
15th, or 14th? Doesnt matter. At least it smelled decent, a human being
now, at the very least. Back to home, back to shared bloodline.

"... The road used to be so quiet at night here."

Muttered under the minty breath, its slighty yellow teeth clattered on the
way home. The same feeling? Cannot be said for where its origin was all
about. Nothing could ever get the attention of it more than how much
everything else flourished, or malnourished in term of investment from
the district, or soul inside the very beautiful home that held many of its
earliest bonds. Stepped inside, and greeted was nothing but... A silence.
Even a reluctant sound, signify its departure from the holed up life inside
of school has finally happened, no one bat an eye. Mother, as it recall,
came down to see for herself the changes in it. Frail, tired from being
woken from her slumber, tried to show a weak smile, a futile attempt of
welcoming the youngest, and last creation of her own. Father was
nowhere to be found, but expected. The divorce was so long ago, now that
they have truly no ties whatsoever to the family name, nor money.
Grandma was the second to notice, but she can never seemed to break up
a smile like she used to. Simple, sweet but unresponsive to change and
understanding boundaries, she coughed up the sweet lies of reunion and
fondness, but by no mean is happy for it, but rather for herself. Selfishness
might have only been the thing she passed down to this abomination of a
grandchild, which was understood at a young age.

"... Is he walking, still?"

Once again, muttered by the last born of the mother. As frail and sick as
it's older brother is, no one can really expect the miracle anymore. Not
that it tries to hide away the indifference to such tragedy, how it ruined
the future of mother, the older blood brother, and even it, just by the
sheer cost of money and mental health to keep everyone alive in the
house. Escapement was imminent for it, but not for the rest of the
Ưufamily. From the far side, as if echoed out in the dark corner of the
staircase to the upper floor ahead, was the sound of the suffering blood
brother. Lashed out, curse, blamed, frustrated, even humiliation to the one
who beared, endured it for months on end from the moment it born to
today, the older brother never once stopped the putrid hatred for what
everyone is, according to his mind, foolish beings. This make everything
feels suffocating, overwhelming, and just like that, once again, it felt like
home.

"...s-o...r...i..e-"

Once again, it woke up. The bed felt... Normal, as it recalls. But oh, wasnt
it the youngest that came home today? Sure felt just like home, for once.

Breakfast was served, no question asked, no concerns showed. It was

Upon entering the room, a scent of pure disinfectant filled its nostril. Lie
on the bed is the frail body of its older brother, the former-self of a beacon
whom it admired. Medicine were consumed, and words... Were no where
to be found in the hospital-like room. A nod of approval of food almost
seemed like a thank you, although it paid no mind to the drastic contrast
to what he are, in the moment. Grandma can be seen catering to the
plants outside, by the rusty gate that has kept all of this inside well for the
last few years. The scent was earthy, and somehow, reminded it of the
simpler time, when consciousness was present in the mind of the old,
weak and insufferable grandmother. Not a word exchanged, but at the
same time, everything felt just like home, much to it may please to find.

..."Mother".

It calls out infront of the wooden door, the only thing separating the both
of them to face each other. Nothing else can be heard, but the sound of a
tedious typing, scribbling workaholic woman was present. It tried again,
but to no avail. Granted, she had suffered enough from the torment of
being the anchor of the selfishness, the humiliation, the weighted down
responsibility as both a child, and a mother of two. Choices were made
horribly, but there could be nothing else much better, because for her,
there simply was no one to pave the road. It understood well how much
everything is, and why it isnt what home is to anyone else outside. But,
feign indifference, it simply slipped a singular piece of paper in the creek
of the wooden door.

Nothing is to be expected, and nothing is to be gained. But it felt that