Dalaric "Ricky" Mikael was known for two things; being the country's best assassin and being a silent brute.
His demons enveloped him in darkness and he saw no light at the end of any tunnel.
Until a girl, who's weird and wears nothing but a pair of...
"One ought to hold on to one's heart; for if one lets it go, one soon loses control of the head too."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Am I the only one tired of seeing an ALL- white cast in so many books? We need the same diversity as it is irl!! Please authors! - Aj'ssmall rant.
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Mama left.
She does this every month, leaves for about two weeks and comes home to act like her absence was a dream.
I don't know where she goes and that worries me. She once told me, obviously while drunk, that she would stay at a 'friend's' house. I worry and she doesn't care that I do.
She's been doing this for the past four years.
Fourteen year old me couldn't comprehend why she would leave so suddenly and why I was spending my summers and winters with my distant aunt and her pet feline instead of the woman who raised me.
I try not to let it get to me as I wrap myself in a short towel with pink strawberries on it.
We don't have much money- shocker, right- so I use most of the things from my childhood. I'm not sure about mama though. I worry that she might not be taking care of herself without any necessary supplies.
I sigh as I open up the suitcase which substitutes as my wardrobe. I have two suitcases; one for my undies and one for everyday clothes, which aren't much.
I pick out a Mayday Parade Band-tee and put it on quickly. I then change into plain black leggings. The outfit looks neat and I smile in the mirror.
My style is impeccable.
I pair the outfit with some old white sneakers and make my way into the kitchen.
I had woken up at three in the morning as a result of how loudly mama had slammed the door shut when she left her daughter alone in an unlocked apartment.
I couldn't fall back asleep as worry overcame me. So I did the one thing I love doing when I'm worried; clean.
Grabbing an apple, I sit on the counter and look at the house proudly.
I managed to make it look like there was never any incident within the borders of our small apartment.
Our one couch is cleaned thoroughly and I've discarded every single bottle of beer and white powder remains.
Other than the couch, we have a coffee table and a bookshelf which mama uses to store liquor. I store the cash we receive under my bed, which is the only piece of furniture, other than a mirror, in my room.
