Once upon a time, there lived a boy who went by the name of ????? ???????. This world, in which he lived, was a marvelous fantasy. This entire fantasy was actually a book called, "Soul Companions." in the real world. This book portrays t...
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Aakster groaned out in utter frustration, as well as burning agony. He couldn't even sleep a wink because of his bitchy arm. As the seconds, minutes, even hours speed by, his wish to cut it the hell off increases. He wished that he'd just skeedaddle his ass out of there the moment that theboywhosenameshaltnotbesaid grabbed his wrist.
Tears streamed down his face like the never-ending Niagara Falls as blood seeped through the cloth in which his arm was poorly wrapped with. He was making a shit ton of noise, but his care for the time being one o' clock in the morning wasn't present at all.
He ripped the cloth off of his hand and threw it across his room, gritting his teeth. Just as he was about to pick up his scissors to cut a piece of cotton to dab up the blood, his door swung open with much force to blow out John Cena himself.
A gasp escaped the forty-five year old man's reeking mouth upon seeing the state of his son. His dull blue eyes reverted to the boy's hand and you'd swear that he had just witness a crime in broad daylight by the look on his face.
Horror and disgust.
"Hey- It's not what you think, father-"
Smack.
Rowan never got to defend himself, as his father landed a hand on his face.
"Not what I think, huh? Not what I fucking think when you have a scissors in your useless hand getting ready to cut your skin off!" He yelled with a raging fire in his eyes, kicking Rowan to the ground. The boy tumbled to the floor, slamming his back against the frame of his bed. He yelled out in pain, the blood on his arm still flowing down rapidly. He swore he saw stars.
