This is just a short story I wrote down... I was just thinking last night, and I had to write this. To be honest this started out as a text message to myself... I wrote this in the middle of the night... I'm sorry that its this bad, but I had to write this.
Ivan sat on the floor of his room. He leaned against the wall. He was glaring at his hand openly in disgust. He slowly allowed himself to cover his face for a moment, he was grateful no one else was there to see him in such a pitiful position. He took in a deep breath and sighed, trying not to let the frustrating tears that wanted to fall from his cheeks fall.
I understand… Ivan thought each word carefully, allowing himself to see each word in his mind, but each word left a bitter taste in his mouth as if he had spoken them. He knew he would never say them aloud though. Ivan laughed humorlessly; he knew how idiotic he was acting. Almost as if someone could read actually his thoughts, but he knew it was impossible. He was just being careful now. He always had to be careful.
His violet eyes shone brightly in the dark room with tears that were still kept hidden.
Ivan took in another breath. He clenched his fist together in anger, and he realized he was shaking, but he knew it was not because he was cold. He had stopped feeling cold a long time ago, but the feeling hurt so much he discovered he did not want to know why he was shaking. Maybe it was simply because he understood what it meant to hate yourself for what you've done. Or it was some other reason that he was far too scared to think of. He couldn't think about it. That thought alone would most likely cause him to scream.
He shut his eyes again. Sometimes the pain in his chest, the hollow, empty feeling and all the hurt he felt would build up to be too much for him to handle.
Way too much.
And he would snap.
Ivan doesn't snap often, and he certainly does not enjoy snapping, but he does. He's learned to accept it but with acceptance he's learned that it does not always come with forgiveness. Ivan glances down at his hands again with hatred… and a new feeling that made his already childlike face look so much more innocent that it hurt. Fear.
Sometimes Ivan even scares himself though he'd never admit it aloud. He doesn't even voice his own thoughts out loud in his mind. Just scraps and snippets that happen to float by, like if he never thought the full truth, it may not be the truth after all. He felt as if he could cover his eyes and close his mind off to the world, and that alone could shield him from the awful truth.
And during the nights when he could no longer control the pain, he would try to turn a blind eye to his own tortured screams that would and could echo his room for hours, his own pitiful pleads with himself to stop and all of the anger he felt… And that alone would always haunt his memory. No matter how much he tried not to think of it.
Ivan knew he cannot control it at all. All the anger and pain and... simply everything.
Sometimes he just snaps.
Like a rubber band.
Ivan just has to hope he's strong enough to bounce back into place and not break in two…
Well... Hope you liked it! And I'll try to update the other story as soon as possible, but I couldn't get this out of my mind! I'm sorry!