10-25-2018, 06:05 PM
His nightmares have been chasing him since that day. He had tried to hide amongst the tangles of the Forest, amongst the tall grasses of the Meadow and everywhere since. Since his sister has not yet found him, he supposed he was doing an okay job of it. He lingered along the edges, careful to keep as still as he could and as hidden as possible whenever he saw the color of his sister’s coat moving along outside his spaces. He knew if she found him, likely he would laying alongside their mother’s remains not long after.
Syn did not like loose ends.
So he hide, it became his life. Even as he tried to work through the guilt at being unable to do anything to help their mom as his sister killed her. It ate at him the guilt, ate and ate, until it had burrowed and hollowed out his insides. There was nothing left to him anymore, nothing left but that guilt.
His body was thin. His ribs were pressing against the sides of his skin, pressing out until each one was visible. He was not trying to starve, sometimes he just forgot, sometimes he just decided to sleep. His body wasted away from his lack of effort, from his lack of ability to do anything damn thing other than guilt himself to death.
He would be sleeping when they found him, curled up like a foal amongst the thorns and brambles digging into his skin. The white along his body, almost as dark as the black splotches, and everything about him spoke of neglect.
Syn did not like loose ends.
So he hide, it became his life. Even as he tried to work through the guilt at being unable to do anything to help their mom as his sister killed her. It ate at him the guilt, ate and ate, until it had burrowed and hollowed out his insides. There was nothing left to him anymore, nothing left but that guilt.
His body was thin. His ribs were pressing against the sides of his skin, pressing out until each one was visible. He was not trying to starve, sometimes he just forgot, sometimes he just decided to sleep. His body wasted away from his lack of effort, from his lack of ability to do anything damn thing other than guilt himself to death.
He would be sleeping when they found him, curled up like a foal amongst the thorns and brambles digging into his skin. The white along his body, almost as dark as the black splotches, and everything about him spoke of neglect.