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𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘱.
𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘱.
𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘱.
The red coppery liquid slowly dripped down both off of his 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴 pooling down on the tiles of the bathroom floor
It hurt. So much. He's a monster and he knows it. He just hates that he is one and the fact he is one.
𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘱.
What did he do to deserve this? What kind of terrible sin must he have commiten for him to deserve this such terrible fate?
If this was his so called 'destiny' he doesn't want it.
𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘱.
People often ask him—Why does he never come out anymore. When will he start battling again? How come neither Kris or his Mom aren't seen atound anymore?
How is he supposed to explain it that it's his fault theyre not around anymore because if him? How does he explain that their beloved golden johto boy is a monster? They would think he's delusional at fitst.
𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘱.
Each day is getting harder and harder to manage. He can feel them under his skin, under his flesh, waiting to be born, not knowing their own flesh-made hive resents them even.
He wishes this was all just a dream, terrifying dream sure, but better a scary dream than this reality.
𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘱.
Oh Silver. How much he misses that boy. He would do anything now just to touch that long red hair. Silver always smeelt like smoke but now that Gold thinks about it.
He doesn't mind. Never did. Infact he misses it now.
𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘱.