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Nothing was meant to be like this.
Nothing was ever meant to be this bad.
Or was it,, did he deserve it? Did he deserve everything of what happened to him.?
That's what Lancaster was contemplating, did he really deserve all of this?
He looked at himself in the mirror of his tiny dorm on site. Messy hair, prominent eye bags, tears streaming down them as he gripped onto the baggy T-shirt he was wearing to bed. Why am I like this?, he thought as he felt like everything was warping around him,, spiralling into a nothing void. He hated the feeling, he hated the way that when his mind got to him his body grew numb, cold. He hated the was he'd try to catch his breath, try to put sense into his thoughts. He hated the way his skin would crawl, ache for warmth as he layed still, alone in the dark of his dorm room as he stared at what hoped to be the ceiling though it never felt like it. It felt uncanny how dark it was, how cold it was at night in this godforsaken hell hole.
Lancaster knew the cold, he's knew it well.
The frost biting cold that consumed him for weeks, aching his bruises and scars,, even causing some. He hated his younger years, how dumb he was to trust his father,, to see something in that monster. But, he hated himself too, he hated he was a sinner of the god he once believed in. He wished his father never found out,, maybe he would end up different, maybe he would of been okay— okay enough to live. Okay enough to not have a daily reminder that he's just another burn out, another fag, another blind slave to society, another dirty hypocrite. Lancaster hated his hands, how they've grown tough over the years. He remembered when his hands were soft, he remembered when he held another hand in his, he remembered the piercing sting of the cold on his flesh, he remembered how his skin toughened.
He remembered when he changed.
He remembered the way he hid his sinful self away from the people, store his thoughts in little jars in the back of his mind,, locked away forever. He remembered the way he tried to change, try to be his fathers son.
But did my father have a son? Or just a mistake?, Lancaster thought with a soft whine, scratching at his arms to try to ground himself.
He let out a choaked out sob,, tightly shutting his eyes as he breathed in and out to the best of his abilities. Get it together, Orion. You're fine, it's fine.
But it wasn't fine,, it never was, and it never will. He'll rot in this hellhole, he'll die here, and no one will remember him,, no one will remember anyone here.
Lancaster hoped he'd die with purpose, that he'd help this world before dying out like a candle. But would he ever truly accomplish that? Or would he die in a gust of wind? He hoped that the god his father forced apon him would take pity on him,, give him another chance. Lancaster was scared to die,, and he was especially scared to die like this.
Orion, block it out,, block it out. You're okay! It's fine! This is just a bad night!!- , Lancaster thought as he continued to dig into his arms with his nails trying to ground himself,, begging to feel anything besides the twisting, sickening feeling in his stomach.
His arms began to hurt a little too much,, so he stopped. Looking down at his arms to see the irritated, now pink tinted flesh.- His breath hitched, all the comfort he tried to give himself was lost as he felt disgusted with his own being.
Imagine how Harley felt,, you monster.
That thought stung, stung,, must of stung Harley when you did that to him, didn't it? You fucking monster Orion. You're so stupid,, why would you do that?!? It's all your fault— you deserve this, all of this. No wonder why Harley doesn't love you look how pathetic you are.
He let out a chocked out sob,, what would your father think of you now? What would he do?- beat you. Like you deserve.
Look at yourself crying,, imagine what would Harley think. You think he'd comfort you? After all you've done to him? He's gonna have fucking trauma from that you monster. You don't deserve your title as a psychologist.,, Not anymore. Why? How could you be so dumb?
A quiet whince escaped him,, as he stared wide eyes at his arms still. They burned,, you know what else burns? When you get something carved into your fucking skin. Bet that really burns.
Maybe you deserve to feel what he felt?
No, no. That's not right,, no he couldn't-, he's been clean for months! You can't just throw that away Lancaster. Or can you? Maybe you deserve to.
Lancaster digged into his arms with his nails,, tears clouding his vision as he mumbled quiet curses to himself. He wanted everything to stop, everything. All he could think about was how much he fucked up everything.
He fucked up his parents marriage, fucked up his relationship with his father, fucked up his friends, fucked up with Harley. Everything thing he loved he ruined.
Monster, you're a monster. That's all you'll ever be is a monster,, you're a rotting corpse in heaven, staining angels wings.
No dog is a bad dog, it's the owner's fault.