Post by Junkrat on Feb 26, 2017 13:21:10 GMT
The last couple of weeks had been more than a little rough on the other half of the Amari twins, his encounter with his sister had left the boy shaken and unsure of anything and everything. After that encounter, he'd done exactly as he said he would do, he'd began cutting away all the little aspect of his life that made him who he was. Reflecting on everything he'd ever been picked on or bullied for, he'd made himself into what could only be described as a bland, grey shell. Putting away everything that made him an artist, every clothing item then seemed even a little bit out there, he hadn't confronted Fareeha to ask her if it was enough yet, but a part of him was scared too.
He'd even attempted to slip into the military life that everyone wanted for him so badly, though thus far that had gone poorly. Mido had never been cut out for hard, heavy training, and the end of this week saw him completely exhausted and more than a little bruised and beaten. He was miserable, even more so because it felt like people were finally acknowledging him, if only to bark at him for not being good enough at this. He didn't know how much more of this he could take, and he feared what would happen to him with nothing, not even this, left to be.
This evening found him hiding from everyone, tucked away into his own corner, as not even his bedroom was really safe from intrusion. He had his back pressed firmly to the wall and his legs held close by his arms, head ducked into his knees as he fought tears for what felt like the hundredth time these last few weeks. He was at the end of his rope, tired of living in the shadows, tired of being expected to throw away his dreams, he was just tired of being, and he found himself half wishing that the knife that had been held to his back had just finished the job. The world wasn't meant for him anyway.
He'd even attempted to slip into the military life that everyone wanted for him so badly, though thus far that had gone poorly. Mido had never been cut out for hard, heavy training, and the end of this week saw him completely exhausted and more than a little bruised and beaten. He was miserable, even more so because it felt like people were finally acknowledging him, if only to bark at him for not being good enough at this. He didn't know how much more of this he could take, and he feared what would happen to him with nothing, not even this, left to be.
This evening found him hiding from everyone, tucked away into his own corner, as not even his bedroom was really safe from intrusion. He had his back pressed firmly to the wall and his legs held close by his arms, head ducked into his knees as he fought tears for what felt like the hundredth time these last few weeks. He was at the end of his rope, tired of living in the shadows, tired of being expected to throw away his dreams, he was just tired of being, and he found himself half wishing that the knife that had been held to his back had just finished the job. The world wasn't meant for him anyway.
