Saturday, April 19, 2014

WEWRIWA Submission - 4/20/14

“Young man, it is every reason my business; it is my job to ensure your safety and well-being in this house. And if you think for one second I will let you endanger my job because of your irresponsible behavior…"

"You want to know what I think?" Garrett snapped, a spiteful scowl twisting across his lips. "I think you are not my father. My father doesn’t give a rat’s ass whether or not I live or die, so I think that pretty much gives me the right to do whatever the fuck I…"

A vicious crack erupted in the air, dissolving into a deathly quiet. A mechanized vice wrenched itself onto Baran’s heart. His arm outstretched at his side, the back of his hand on fire with the sting of a thousand daggers. His eyes scanned over the redness developing over his knuckles, matching the color of the youth’s stunned jaw. He looked down at the floor, unable to meet Garrett’s horrified gaze.

Shit. How did I lose control?  Baran thought. Why did I let that bother me so much? He has no way of knowing why that hurt…Why did it hurt?


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Slightly longer than eight sentences, but I think it was worth it. 

This is a scene from an origin story I plan on fleshing out wayyyyyyy into the future. It is set back in the early days in the Galavantier residence, an origin story for Baran and Garrett.

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