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Blood dripped from Wem’s forehead, looking like something horrific happened in that very same scene. His mind hurt alot currently, and all he could feel was pain mixed with ringing sounds that felt unreal.
Was this really his purpose? To be used around as a small, simple toy made for entertainment without any actual meaning when he was created? Probably.
A body he once called his stayed limp on the ground outside on the back of the school; where nobody could theoretically find him — since nobody looked there.
It was like he was in the brink of being unconscious; desperately trying to save his last sense of closure that he’s still alive. All he could notice was his glasses, broken and mixed with whatever.
Shit. Does he have to go back to a repair shop again to fix it? Almost every shop that fixes things like this on his town are getting concerned on how frequent he returns to them. They might even call the authorities to report that something seems up with a brunette boy with blonde accents and pink glasses.
Just like Flame said: “If he told anyone else about this, he’ll have far greater consequences sooner or later in his miserable and pathetic life.”
Flame and his gang had left a long time ago. Probably threatening some vulnerable small kid for their lunch money or trying to find different victims to torment while he’s recovering.
In all honesty, he doesn’t wanna go home like this again; bleeding and being another burden for his parents — but he can never do anything but scream.
Something tasted metallic in his mouth. It looked strangely red and oddly concerning, yet he didn’t have enough power in his body to actually investigate what happened.
This was an oddly normal Tuesday for him. Getting beaten up like a stupid marionette again like what he really is — but nothing truly entertaining for him happened today, maybe that’s why he got beaten up. He truly jinxed it like what he does all the time and ruin the fun for everyone.
Flame probably saw through all his sadboy depressed bullshit like always, maybe calling him some wannabe attention seeker again. Even if Wemm does open up — everyone would just say that silly Flame is right and he should stop thinking that things would ever change for him.
Quite sad to hear, lmao.
He’s far too used to this, and maybe that’s why he isn’t reacting to the fact that his frontal lobe cutely got smashed like how his life flashed before his eyes.
Was this passive suicidality? Getting into random fights and things without the thought that ‘maybe’ it would possibly scar him permanently?
Well, he should better get going.
Unbelievably slowly, he stood up from his limp position; trying to catch his breath in slow, even breaths just to keep himself from screaming from the pain.
It hurt so, so much. But why couldn’t he feel it? Why? There wasn’t any scientifical or logical way to solve it. And he won’t go spiritually because he doesn’t have a religion whatsoever.
Shit. Walking home like this would hurt so bad.
Thankfully, they didn’t steal his bag, and that had some gauze and medical items so he can patch himself up. . . . Like always all the time anywhere everywhere.
The blood looked pretty on his skin — and people had called him very sick and extremely weird for that shit.
To him, it was something worth to look at.