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dontdodrugs-domemes · 1 month ago

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What is being a writer if not projecting your own traumas onto your silly little guys?

I wrote this after finding out my grandpa was in the hospital (he's fine now, just got me thinking about my own mortality) so what better way to cope than to make my characters feel bad?

Hope yall enjoy the trauma-fest that is my silly little stories using my characters from my book.

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In the sweltering New York summer heat, in a small church with minimal A/C, a young Maxine Wilson walks down the rows of pews. Her relatives, all dressed in black, wearing similar faces to her own, fill the pews. Most of the people here she doesn’t know. Yet she somehow understands, their her family.

Maybe it’s the fact they have the same eyes as her grandmother, or the same nose as her grandfather. Maybe it’s because they all look at her with the same sorrow everyone has since last Sunday, when the nice police officers came to talk with her mother.

One of the officers enthusiastically watched her show off her stuffed animal collection while her mom sobbed in the other room. She doesn’t quite understand why her mama is crying, or why her father doesn’t come home that night to tuck her into bed.

She does know that in this tiny church, with the pretty windows and all the people dressed in black, that today is the last day she’ll see her daddy.

He’s laid down, in his Sunday best, at the end of the isle. Her little legs carry her to the casket.

She gets taller with every step. Her hair grows longer with each bounce of her curls. Her fingers grow more deft as she wrings her hands together nervously. When she reaches the casket, instead of a look to her crying mother to lift her up, she’s looking down.

The fuzzy vision of her father’s face blurs even further, blending and twisting into something uncomfortably familiar. Her own face, pale and lifeless.

Her own body is laying in the casket in front of her. Her black curls, perfectly tamed and tailored, falling down her shoulders in a way that feels too staged.

She looks up, expecting to find her mother next to her, but she’s nowhere to be found. She turns around to find her in the pews. Only for them to be eerily empty.

Cobwebs cling to the wood rafters on the ceiling, a thick coating of dust lays over the chipped wooden pews, bits of it litter the air and twinkle under the red, blue, and green light seeping through the stained glass windows.

No one is here. No one has been here. Max Wilson, older than she was when she walked through those doors, is all alone.

Max startles awake. She’s had this dream before and every time, instead of being eased out of sleep, she’s ripped from it, dropped from it.

She doesn’t bolt upright, she doesn’t gasp and cling at her chest, searching her surroundings. She simply opens her eyes, face and pillow wet with tears.

“Hey babydoll, you with me?” Xeadeth’s deep, rumbling, sleep-laced voice pulls Max back down to earth.

This is the first time in five years, that she hasn’t woken up alone after that dream.

Her whole body tenses as she registers his hand running up and down her back. She’s so used to dealing with this alone. The realization of another presence sends sickening electricity through her nervous system.

Max sits up. Her heart races and nerves prick at her palms. She tries to climb out of the bed, but Xeadeth puts a hand on her shoulder. She flinches away, as if his touch burns, and gets out of bed.

“What’s going on with you?” He asks gently. He looks down at his hand. Guilty like a kicked dog who doesn’t understand where he went wrong.

“Nothing. Please just… don’t touch me right now.” The words scrape past her lips like shards of glass as she clambers around her room and starts digging in her dresser.

She’s not entirely sure what she’s looking for, only that she wants to lock herself away. Away from everyone in her life because, in the end, everyone leaves, dies or hurts her.

If she’s going to be alone in the end, it’s going to be on her own terms. She’ll be the first to leave, distancing herself from everyone until she becomes a hazy memory of someone they thought they knew.

I won’t be hard for Xeadeth. Maybe for the first one hundred years after, he’ll wait for her. He’ll come back to the mortal world just to look for her, beg her to come out and see him. But then he’ll give up, and go on to live another millennia, doing his duties as the leader of Hell’s armies. She’ll become just another blip on his radar. A once beloved toy, left outside to be bleached by the sun and to be frayed by the elements.

Fat, wet tears fall from her eyes and roll down her cheeks at the thought. She doesn’t want to be alone. She never wanted to be alone. She doesn’t want Xeadeth, or any of her friends and family, to forget her. She wants to be known, to be loved, to be cherished in a way she’s never experienced until recently.

Guilt claws its way up from her chest into her throat, slipping through her lips as a sob. It knocks the wind from her lungs, leaving her heaving for a breath. Her knees wobble beneath her. She finds herself settled on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, crying into her folded arms.

She barely registers then sound of footsteps exiting the room, or the door softly clicking shut. But nonetheless, Max knows she’s alone now.

A hollow, ice cold, lead ball settles in the pit of her stomach. Expanding into her chest with each ragged breath. She realizes, she got what she wanted. To push everyone away before they could leave her.

Her ears ring loudly from the adrenaline coursing through her veins, too loud for her to hear the door opening again.

Suddenly, she feels two presences sitting on either side of her.

“Max babes, what’s going on?” Avi’s voice rings bright in her ears, cutting through the blaring roar of blood.

She looks up, tears blurring her vision, but she makes out both Xeadeth and Avi, sitting next to her, concern etching their expressions.

“don’t...don’t wanna be alone,” Max chokes out between sobs.

Avi and Xeadeth share a look, confused yet understanding. Avi sharpens her gaze at him. Xeadeth shrugs.

Avi reaches to put a hand on Max’s arm, but Xeadeth shakes his head, eyes wide with warning. Avi glares at him and does it anyway. Max doesn’t react as strongly as she did when Xeadeth tried to do the same thing. He’s slightly hurt but knows this isn’t about him.

“You aren’t alone. Xeadeth and I are here, I know you and Kyle aren’t that close but he’s here. Danny’s supposed to come hang out with us later. You’ve got Dale and Mikey too.”

As if on cue, Perry saunters into the room, going right up to Max and rubbing against her legs, plopping down on her feet.

“And we can’t forget about Perry. Not that he would let us,” Avi jokes.

Max looks over at Xeadeth, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He hates seeing her upset but he can’t stop the way his heart flutters. Something about the hues of red that splotch her cheeks, the way the tears make her eyes an even more stunning shade of green, and the little wobble of her bottom lip, he finds breathtakingly beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” she starts.

“Hey, none of that. You don’t need to be sorry.” Xeadeth scolds softly. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear before draping his arm over her shoulder. He presses a kiss to the side of her head.

“Can you tell us what happened? What brought this on?” Avi asked, using her nurse voice.

Usually Max would find it annoying, being talked to like a patient, but right now it feels like an odd comfort.

“I had that dream again. The one with my dad and the church.” She says, her voice strained and eyes trained on the floor in front of her.

Xeadeth furrows his brow, looking over to Avi, who’s face is pinched in painful understanding. He’s missing some key parts of this conversation, confusion fueled by lack of context.

“Max, maybe you should talk to someone about that. You’ve been having that dream since we were freshman.” Avi suggests.

“I have, Dr. Miller says its common for people who’ve been through what I have. She said that because I’ve had to grieve for so long it makes sense that it’d manifest in dreams. Or nightmares, or whatever.” Max waves her hand dismissively.

“I haven’t had that dream in almost a year. And when I have, I’ve always been alone. Unless I was with Ricky. Which was pretty much the same as being alone. This time, when I woke up and I wasn’t alone, everything felt…wrong. Like I had been ripped from one reality and dropped into another. I didn’t know what to do. All I could think about was how I needed to push everyone away and leave before anyone could leave me.” Her breath catches in her throat as she rambles. The familiar tingling in her hands returns.

“Why do you think I’d leave you?” The look of hurt etched into Xeadeth’s features, and the sound of it weaving through his voice sends a wave of guilt crashing over Max. Soaking her in it, down to the core of her bones.

She never expected anyone love her as much as Xeadeth does. It terrifies her how much she loves him back. Like two halves of a whole, two souls forged into one. The thought of him leaving feels like the idea of losing her hands; an integral part of who she is, to how she moves through the world.

“Almost everyone I’ve loved has died, left, or tried to kill me,” Max sobs through renewed tears.

Xeadeth’s hardened heart cracks and oozes at the cut off sniffles coming from Max. He shuffles around her, settling behind her. His chest pressing against Max’s back, his legs on either side of her hips, his strong arms wrapping around her waist. Avi shoots him a wary look but he ignores her. His only focus is Max. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head before resting his chin on her shoulder, speaking low and soft into her ear.

“My love, my sunshine, my beautiful doll, I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

“You can’t promise that,” Max interjects.

“I can, and I do. If you need a ring to believe it then I’ll get you any and every ring you could ever want. If you wanted Saturn’s rings on your fingers I would find a way to make it happen.” Xeadeth spoke with so much conviction, Max’s head spun.

“You are the one good thing I’ve ever had in my life. I would be an idiot to give that up.”

“Damn straight,” Avi added.

“I promise I will never hurt you the way you have been before. I will never touch you where you don’t want me to. If you never wanted me to touch you again, I’d sit with you, watch you paint or read until the heat death of the universe.”

Xeadeth released his hold on Max with one arm, facing a clawed hand palm up. A silent invitation to ground her with him. She takes it willingly, lacing their fingers together.

“And the cool thing about having a demon as your boyfriend; I’m immortal, I can’t die. So you truly, will not be getting rid of me anytime soon, or at all.” He emphasizes his point with a wet kiss to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, biting down softly. Not enough to cause damage, but just enough to bring Max back into her body.

Max lets out a surprised gasp and attempts to swat at his head gently. She momentarily forgot about the horns until she felt her fingers graze the side of one.

Xeadeth just barely contained the desperate noise that was about to escape his throat. Avi’s still here and she would roast the ever-loving hell out of him had he let it slip. Xeadeth buries his face in Max’s neck to hide the heat rushing to his cheeks.

He listened to Max’s breathing while pressed against her. It’s evened out a lot since this all started.

“I would say get a room but we’re already in your room so...” Avi started as she stood up from her spot on the floor.

“Max, I love you, you’re my best friend and that’s never going to change. However, I don’t wish to stick around and watch you and Xeadeth make goo goo eyes at each other, so I’m going to go make goo goo eyes at my own man. You two have fun. Holler if you need anything.”

“Thanks Avi, love you too.” Max said as Avi left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Max and Xeadeth sit in comfortable silence, soaking in each other’s company. They sit on the floor until creaky joints and stiff muscles scream out for movement. Only then does Xeadeth help Max to her feet, wrapping his arms around her in a tight bear hug. He litters her face in kisses; on her forehead, over her eyelids, across her cheeks, finally landing on her lips.

The kiss is soft, gentle and smooth, like two puzzle pieces sliding into place, finding each other. It’s a promise. One that Max thinks she can believe.

When they part pink-cheeked and giggly, Max asks the question that’s been rattling around her brain since Xeadeth mentioned it.

“You’d really get me a ring?”

Xeadeth looked gobsmacked. As if Max doubting his devotion and commitment to her was the most preposterous idea he’d ever been presented with. He cups her face with both hands, holding her in his gaze like a rare artifact.

“Vita Mea, I meant what I said, I’ll get you anything you want.” Xeadeth was playing dirty and he knew it. He knew Max would melt into a doe-eyed, love-struck puddle any time he spoke Latin.

“Do you want a ring?” He asked, making sure this isn’t a hypothetical want.

“Is it bad that I do?” She looked up at him cautiously.

Max was never one for jewelry, she had a few pieces here and there, but nothing she wore regularly. But if Xeadeth actually got her a ring -or any jewelry for that matter- she’d never take it off.

“Of course not. Why don’t we go get some breakfast and you can tell me all about what kind of ring you would like?” He encouraged.

As if on cue, Max’s stomach growled.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” She agreed.

As the two ate breakfast and talked about ring styles and designs, Max felt the earlier stress of the morning melting away. Her muscles were looser, the rolling boil of her fears reduced to a stand-still. For the first time in her life, she believed it when someone said they were there for her and that they weren’t leaving. Of course she’d still have to talk to Dr. Miller about all of this but, for the time being she let herself enjoy the presence of her boyfriend and the new development of matching rings.

#writing #book writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #monster romance #traumadump #side story #project hellfire #begging for validation on the internet #my characters #writeblr

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