tinyybookclub

[tinyybookclub]

The Three Heathens : Clean Up (pt 8)

The aftermath of that night felt like waking up from a nightmare, only to find that the terror was real and still clinging to us. The weight of our fathers lifeless body on the apartment floor was a grim reminder that the nightmare wasn’t over yet—it had only just begun.

Si didn’t speak as she wiped the blood from her hands, her movements mechanical, almost detached. The boys were frozen, still reeling from the violence they had witnessed. Jared’s face was pale, his eyes wide and unblinking, while Ryland’s hands shook, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. I could see the fear in their eyes, the uncertainty of what was to come, but I didn’t have the words to comfort them. I didn’t know how to tell them that everything would be okay when I wasn’t sure it would be.

“We need to get rid of him,” Si said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. It was as if the act of killing had drained her of any feeling, leaving only a hollow shell behind. She glanced at me, her eyes dark and unreadable. “Help me.”

I nodded, unable to refuse her, even as a sickening dread settled in my stomach. The reality of what we were about to do—what we had already done—was too much to comprehend. But there was no time to think, no time to process. We had to act.

Si moved with a quiet efficiency, wrapping the body in a tarp we found in the storage closet. The boys watched, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief. Jared’s eyes flicked between Si and the body, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came out. Ryland was trembling, his hands clutching his head as if he could block out the sight in front of him.

“Stay with your brothers Kev ,” Si instructed me, her voice softening just a fraction. “I’ll take care of this.”

I wanted to argue, to tell her that she didn’t have to do this alone, but the look in her eyes stopped me. There was a determination there, a resolve that wouldn’t be shaken. This was something she needed to do, and I couldn’t take that from her.

She disappeared out the door, dragging the body behind her, and I was left alone with the boys. The silence in the apartment was suffocating, the air thick with the stench of fear and something else—something darker. I tried to speak, to offer some comfort, but the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I pulled Jared and Ryland into a hug, holding them close as they shook in my arms.

It felt like hours before Si returned, her clothes stained with dirt and sweat, but her expression unchanged. I didn’t ask where she had taken the body. I didn’t want to know. All I knew was that it was gone, and with it, a part of Si had gone too.

For days, the apartment was shrouded in a heavy silence. The boys were withdrawn, their once vibrant personalities dulled by the weight of what they had witnessed. Jared stopped eating, his small frame growing thinner with each passing day, while Ryland’s anxiety spiraled out of control, his hands trembling uncontrollably whenever he was alone. The laughter and light that had once filled our home were gone, replaced by a darkness that threatened to consume us all.

Si tried to hold us together, but I could see the strain in her eyes, the cracks that were starting to form. She threw herself into taking care of the boys, cooking meals they didn’t eat, cleaning rooms that no longer felt like home. But it was all a façade—a desperate attempt to keep herself from falling apart.

I started to notice the signs—small at first, almost imperceptible. The way Si would disappear into the bathroom for longer and longer periods, the redness in her eyes when she came out, the long sleeves she wore even in the sweltering heat. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t bear the thought that she was breaking, that the woman who had saved us all was slipping away.

It wasn’t until I found the bloodstained razor hidden in the bathroom cabinet that I could no longer ignore the truth. Si was hurting, in ways that none of us could see, and she was doing it alone.

I confronted her one night, after the boys had gone to bed. She was sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. When I asked her about the razor, she didn’t deny it. She just looked at me with those haunted eyes, and I knew that she was drowning in her own pain, unable to find a way out.

“I don’t know how to stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “It’s the only thing that makes me feel…anything.”

I wanted to reach out, to pull her into my arms and tell her that it was okay, that we would get through this together. But the words felt hollow, meaningless in the face of what she was going through. Instead, I just sat with her, holding her hand as tears streamed down her face. We didn’t speak, because there was nothing left to say.

The memorial for Tina was a small, quiet affair. Just the boys, Si, and me. We didn’t invite anyone else. It felt wrong, somehow, to let anyone else in on the pain that we were still trying to process. We scattered her ashes in the garden she used to love, the one place where she had always found peace. Si stood apart from us, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes distant. I knew she was thinking of Tina, of the life they could have had if things had been different.

As we left the garden, I saw Si glance back one last time, her expression unreadable. I didn’t know what the future held for us, or if we would ever truly heal from the scars that had been left behind. But as I walked beside her, I felt a flicker of hope—small, but real.

We had survived this far. We would find a way to survive whatever came next. Together.

[tinyybookclub]

In the quiet dawn, where light meets shade,

Our love is whispered, tenderly made.

A tapestry woven in colors so bright,

You are my day, my endless night.

In every glance, a universe we share,

Your smile, my compass, guiding me where

The world feels vast, yet so small in your arms,

Safe from the storm, from life’s alarms.

We walk hand in hand through time’s endless stream,

Each moment with you, a cherished dream.

In your laughter, I find my song,

In your strength, where I belong.

Through trials faced and battles fought,

In you, I’ve found the love I sought.

Together we rise, together we fall,

In your love, I’ve found it all.

So here’s to us, to the life we’ve built,

With hearts unburdened by fear or guilt.

You are my wife, my heart’s true flame,

In every heartbeat, I whisper your name.

For in your arms, I’ve found my home,

With you, my love, I’m never alone.

In this journey, wherever it may lead,

You are my love, my every need.

[tinyybookclub]

The 3 Heathens : Our Savior Si (pt7)

The days after Tina’s passing were a blur of grief and quiet moments. My brothers were lost in their own worlds of pain, and Si, though still strong, seemed haunted by the memories of their past and the weight of everything she’d endured. It was like the life had been drained from all of us, leaving only the shell of who we used to be. The apartment, once filled with laughter and love, now echoed with silence.

But there was something more—something sinister lurking just beneath the surface.

One evening, as the sun dipped low and the shadows lengthened across the walls, there was a knock at the door. It was a sound that sent a chill down my spine, a harbinger of something I couldn’t quite place. Si, who had been staring at an old photograph of her and Tina, tensed at the sound. Her eyes met mine, and in that brief moment, I saw a flicker of something dark—a memory, perhaps, of the man who had once shattered Tina’s life and left scars that never fully healed.

I moved to open the door, but Si was quicker. “Wait,” she said, her voice low and firm. “Let me.”

She reached for the handle, her hand trembling slightly as she turned it. The door swung open to reveal a figure I’d only heard about in whispered stories—Tina’s father, the man who had left their family in ruins so many years ago. He was older now, his face weathered and cruel, but there was no mistaking the malice in his eyes. He’d found us.

“Hello, Si,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “Long time no see.”

Si’s body went rigid, her face a mask of calm, but I could see the storm brewing behind her eyes. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice steely.

The man sneered, stepping into the apartment as if he owned the place. “I heard Tina’s gone,” he said, his tone mocking. “Thought I’d come to collect what’s mine.”

The boys appeared in the hallway, drawn by the tension in the air. Jared’s eyes went wide with fear, and Ryland, still fragile from his recent relapse, looked ready to break all over again. The sight of their mother’s tormentor standing in their home was enough to bring the past rushing back in a flood of painful memories.

But Si wasn’t about to let that happen.

“You have no right,” she hissed, stepping in front of him. “You destroyed her life once. You’re not going to do it again.”

The man’s grin widened, and he took another step forward. “And what are you going to do about it, little girl? You think you can stop me?”

Si’s hand clenched into a fist, and for a moment, I thought she might back down. But then I saw it—the resolve in her eyes, the determination that had kept us all together when everything else was falling apart. She wasn’t going to let this man hurt us, not again.

Without warning, she lunged at him, her fist connecting with his jaw with a sickening crack. The man stumbled backward, more out of surprise than pain, but Si didn’t stop. Years of anger, guilt, and sorrow poured out of her as she struck him again and again, each blow fueled by the memories of the life he’d ruined, the love he’d stolen.

The boys watched in stunned silence, too shocked to move. They had never seen Si like this—so fierce, so relentless. She was fighting not just for us, but for Tina, for the woman she had loved and lost, the woman whose life had been shattered by the man now lying at her feet.

Finally, the man managed to scramble to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth. He looked at Si with something like fear in his eyes, and for a brief moment, I thought he might flee. But then his hand moved to his jacket, and I saw the glint of metal as he pulled out a knife.

“Enough!” he spat, lunging at Si with the blade.

But Si was faster. She dodged his attack with a grace born of desperation and fury, grabbing his arm and twisting it until the knife clattered to the floor. And then, with a final, brutal motion, she slammed his head against the wall, the impact reverberating through the apartment like a gunshot.

He crumpled to the ground, unconscious and bleeding, but Si wasn’t finished. She knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she reached for the knife. I saw the conflict in her eyes, the battle between the person she had been and the one she had become—the one who would do anything to protect those she loved.

“Si, don’t,” I whispered, stepping forward. “He’s not worth it.”

But Si’s eyes were hard, her resolve unshaken. “He hurt her,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath. “He hurt all of us.”

And then, with a swift, decisive motion, she plunged the knife into his chest, ending the threat that had loomed over us for so long. The man’s body jerked once, then went still, the life draining out of him in a matter of seconds.

The room was silent, save for the sound of our breathing. The boys stared at Si in shock, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and admiration. They had never seen her like this, had never known the depth of her love for their mother, the lengths she would go to protect them.

Si stood slowly, her hands covered in blood, her expression unreadable. She looked at us, then at the lifeless body at her feet, and I saw the weight of what she had done settle over her like a heavy blanket. But there was no regret in her eyes, no remorse—only a fierce, unyielding love that had driven her to do the unthinkable.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly, stepping closer.

She nodded, but I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. “I had to,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I couldn’t let him hurt you. I couldn’t let him hurt anyone ever again.”

We stood in silence, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. The man who had haunted our lives, who had left Tina broken and scarred, was gone. And Si, the woman who had come into our lives like a whirlwind, had saved us all.

But the cost was high. The weight of what she had done would stay with her forever, a reminder of the lengths she had gone to for the people she loved. As we cleaned up the scene, the boys still in shock, Si held herself together, but I could see the cracks forming. She had fought for us, for Tina, but in doing so, she had lost a piece of herself.

And yet, despite everything, there was a strange sense of peace in the air—a feeling that we were finally free from the shadows of the past, that we could start to heal, to rebuild our lives without the fear of what might come next.

As we sat together in the quiet of the night, the boys huddled close, I took Si’s hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “We’ll get through this,” I said, my voice steady. “We’ll get through it together.”

Si nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Together,” she echoed, her voice filled with a quiet determination.

And in that moment, I knew that no matter what came next, we would face it as a family—stronger, united, and unbreakable.

[tinyybookclub]

The 3 Heathens: Hardships .. (pts 6)

The days that followed were a mix of hope and fear, the kind of emotional cocktail that left us feeling unsteady but alive. Si’s presence was a blessing, a light in the darkest corners of our existence. But there was a tension in the air, a current of unspoken words that only grew stronger as Tina and Si spent more time together. The boys didn’t notice it, but I could see the way Si’s eyes would cloud over when she thought no one was watching, the way Tina would reach for her hand as if she feared she might disappear.

One evening, when the boys were asleep and the apartment was bathed in the soft glow of the television, I found Si sitting alone on the balcony. The rain had stopped, but the air was still thick with the scent of wet pavement and something else—something heavy, like the weight of unspoken truths.

"Si?" I called softly, not wanting to startle her. She turned to me, her eyes reflecting the city lights, but there was something different about her. A sadness, a vulnerability that I hadn’t seen before.

"Can I join you?" I asked.

She nodded, and I took a seat beside her, pulling my sweater tighter around me as the night air cooled my skin.

"You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

Si smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Sometimes, it feels that way."

I waited, knowing that whatever was on her mind, she would tell me when she was ready. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke.

"I never should have left her," Si said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Back then, when we were just kids, I thought I was doing the right thing. My family moved away, and I was so scared of losing myself that I left Tina behind without even saying goodbye."

I didn’t know what to say. The woman sitting next to me seemed so strong, so sure of herself, but in that moment, she was just as lost as the rest of us.

"We were together, you know?" Si continued, her voice trembling slightly. "We were in love. But I was too young to understand what that meant. When my family moved, I convinced myself that it was better this way, that Tina would be better off without me. But I was wrong. So wrong."

She paused, running a hand through her hair as she stared out into the night. "When I came back to this city, I found out what had happened to her—how her life had spiraled out of control. I felt so guilty, so responsible. I should have been there for her, should have stayed. But instead, I ran away."

I reached out, placing my hand on hers. "You’re here now," I said softly. "And that’s what matters."

Si shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "But I wasn’t there when she needed me most. I’ve spent every day since I returned trying to make up for that, trying to be the person she deserves. But sometimes I wonder if it’s too late. If the damage has already been done."

"It’s never too late," I said firmly. "Tina’s been through hell, but she’s still here. And so are you. That has to mean something."

Si nodded, but I could see the doubt still lingering in her eyes. "I’m trying," she whispered. "I’m trying so hard."

For a moment, we sat in silence, the weight of her confession hanging in the air between us. I could see now why she had been so determined to stay, to help us all heal. This wasn’t just about us; it was about her, too. She was trying to heal her own wounds, to make amends for the mistakes of the past.

As the days went on, the bond between Si and Tina grew stronger, but so did the challenges. Tina’s health continued to decline, and there were days when she could barely muster the strength to get out of bed. Si was always there, though, holding her hand, whispering words of love and encouragement.

The boys, oblivious to the depth of Si and Tina’s past, saw only the surface—the meals cooked with love, the gentle care Si provided. They didn’t see the nights when Si would cry softly, thinking no one could hear her, or the way Tina would hold her close, as if she was trying to soak up every bit of strength Si had to offer.

But there was something else too—something that gave us all hope. Tina was fighting. Every day, despite the pain, despite the exhaustion, she was fighting to stay with us. And I knew that a big part of that was because of Si.

One afternoon, as the sun dipped low in the sky, painting the apartment in shades of gold, I found Tina and Si sitting together on the couch. They were holding hands, their fingers intertwined, and there was a look of pure, unfiltered love between them.

"I love you, Si," Tina whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’ve always loved you."

Si leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Tina’s forehead. "I love you too," she replied, her voice thick with emotion. "And I’m not going anywhere."

For a moment, it was as if the rest of the world disappeared, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the love they had rekindled after so many years. It was a love that had been tested, torn apart by time and circumstance, but one that had ultimately survived. And in that moment, I realized that despite all the hardship, all the pain, there was still so much beauty in their story.

But life wasn’t done testing us yet.

A few days later, Tina’s condition took a turn for the worse. She was rushed to the hospital, and the doctors told us that it was only a matter of time. The boys were devastated, unable to understand why this was happening, why the woman who had always been their rock was slipping away from them.

Si was a mess, torn between staying strong for Tina and falling apart herself. She hadn’t slept in days, and I could see the toll it was taking on her. But she refused to leave Tina’s side, even for a moment.

The hospital room was quiet, save for the beeping of machines and the soft hum of the ventilator. Tina was unconscious, her body weak and frail, but Si was still there, holding her hand, whispering words of love and comfort.

"I’m so sorry," Si whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I’m so sorry for leaving you. I should have been there. I should have stayed."

Tina’s eyes fluttered open, just barely, and she looked up at Si, a weak smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"You’re here now," Tina whispered, her voice raspy and weak. "That’s all that matters."

And in that moment, I knew that despite everything, despite all the pain and heartbreak, they had found something beautiful—something worth holding onto.

Tina passed away a few days later, surrounded by the people she loved most. It was the hardest thing we had ever gone through, but somehow, we found the strength to keep going. Si stayed with us, her presence a constant reminder of the love and strength that Tina had left behind.

The boys struggled to cope with the loss, each in their own way. Ryland, who had come so far in his recovery, stumbled, relapsing in his grief. Jared retreated into his art, painting murals that were darker and more haunting than anything he had created before. But through it all, Si was there, holding us together, helping us find our way through the darkness.

It wasn’t easy, and there were days when it felt like the weight of our loss would crush us. But we had each other, and we had the love that Tina and Si had shown us. And in that love, we found the strength to keep going, to keep fighting for a future that, despite everything, was still full of hope.

Because that’s what Tina would have wanted—for us to keep living, to keep loving, and to keep believing that no matter how dark the night, there was always a dawn waiting on the horizon.

[tinyybookclub]

The 3 Heathens : A New Beginning (pt5)

The days had become a blur, each one blending into the next as we struggled to keep our heads above water. Ryland's addiction, Tina's failing health, Jared's ongoing battle with bullies—everything seemed to be spiraling out of control. We were barely holding on, and the weight of our struggles was crushing us.

Then, one day, she walked into our lives.

It was a rainy afternoon, and the apartment was eerily quiet, save for the occasional sound of Jared's pencil scratching against paper as he worked on his latest mural. Ryland was in his room, sleeping off the remnants of another rough night. Tina was resting on the couch, her breath shallow and labored.

There was a knock at the door, soft but insistent. I opened it to find a woman standing there, her presence both commanding and comforting. She was dressed simply, in jeans and a leather jacket, but there was something about her that immediately put me at ease.

"Hi," she said, her voice warm and melodic. "I'm Sienna, but you can call me Si. I’m an old friend of Tina's."

I was taken aback. Tina had never mentioned Si before, but there was a familiarity in the way she said Tina’s name, like someone who had known her deeply and intimately.

"Can I come in?" Si asked, her eyes softening as she looked at me. "I’ve heard a lot about you."

I stepped aside, still unsure of who she was or why she was here, but there was something about her that made me trust her instantly. She walked in, taking in the state of the apartment with a quiet, understanding gaze. When she saw Tina on the couch, her face softened even more.

"Tina," she breathed, rushing over to her. Tina opened her eyes, and for the first time in months, I saw a spark of life in them.

"Si," Tina whispered, her voice weak but filled with emotion. "You came."

"I’m here now," Si replied, taking Tina's hand in hers. "And I’m not going anywhere."

Si was like a whirlwind of light that cut through the darkness that had been suffocating us for so long. She didn’t just come into our lives; she became a part of it, wrapping us all in her warmth and care.

It started with small things—helping around the house, cooking meals that actually tasted like love, and spending time with each of us, getting to know us in ways that no one had bothered to before. But it quickly became clear that Si was more than just a friend. She was a healer, a balm to our battered souls.

Ryland, who had been on the brink of self-destruction, was the first to feel her impact. Si didn’t try to fix him; she simply sat with him in his pain, letting him know that he wasn’t alone. She found him in the midst of a bender one night and instead of chastising him, she held him, whispered words of comfort, and helped him see that there was still a future worth fighting for.

Slowly, Ryland began to pull himself out of the abyss. It wasn’t easy—there were setbacks, relapses, and moments of despair—but with Si by his side, he started to believe that he could be the father his daughter deserved. Si even went as far as helping him reconnect with his ex-girlfriend, who, though cautious, could see the change in him. It wasn’t a perfect reunion, but it was a start.

Jared, too, found a confidante in Si. She saw his art not just as a hobby, but as a lifeline, a way for him to process the pain that words couldn’t touch. She encouraged him, helped him get his work displayed at a local gallery, and even introduced him to other artists who had faced similar struggles. For the first time, Jared saw a future where his art could be more than just an escape—it could be a way to heal.

And then there was Tina. Si’s love for her was palpable, a force that brought Tina back to life even as her body continued to weaken. Si didn’t pretend that everything was okay. She knew that Tina’s health was fragile, but instead of focusing on the fear, she filled Tina’s days with joy. They spent hours together, talking, laughing, and reminiscing about the old days, before life had taken its toll. Si became Tina’s strength when she had none left, her courage when the fear was overwhelming.

But it wasn’t just Tina who benefited from Si’s presence. She extended her love to all of us in a way that was transformative. She became the rubber band that held us together, stretching to accommodate our individual needs but always pulling us back to the center, where we could lean on each other.

For me, Si was a revelation. I had spent so long trying to be strong for everyone else that I had forgotten how to be vulnerable. Si saw through the facade and gave me permission to break down, to grieve, to feel the weight of everything we had been through. And in doing so, she helped me find my own strength again.

The impact Si had on our lives was immeasurable. She didn’t just patch up the cracks; she filled them with love, turning our broken pieces into something whole again. She was the hope we had lost, the light we had been searching for in the darkness. And as we moved forward, facing the challenges that still lay ahead, we did so knowing that we weren’t alone.

We had Si, and with her, we had a future worth fighting for. The story of our lives was still being written, but now, for the first time in a long time, we believed that the next chapter would be one of healing, of love, and of hope.

And as we gathered around the table, Tina and Si’s hands intertwined, the weight of the past year didn’t feel so heavy anymore. We raised our glasses once more, not just to survival, but to the strength that Si had helped us find within ourselves.

"To new beginnings," Si said, her voice steady and full of promise.

"To love," I added, and this time, as our glasses clinked together, it didn’t feel like an end, but a beautiful, hopeful beginning.

(Pt 6&7 posted 💗)

[tinyybookclub]

The 3 Heathens: The Havoc Continues.. ( part 4

The silence after Tina's toast hung heavy in the room, thick with unspoken fears and the weight of the past year. We had survived, but survival didn't mean the struggle was over.

Ryland was slipping further. The demands of being a young father, coupled with the loss of his scholarship, left him spiraling. His job at the warehouse barely paid enough to keep the lights on. Desperation led him down a dark path, and I watched helplessly as he turned to hard drugs to cope. The Ryland who had once been the pride of the football field was now a stranger, his eyes hollow, his spirit broken.

One night, I found him slumped on the couch, a needle still in his arm. "Ryland, you gotta snap out of this," I pleaded, shaking him awake. He opened his eyes, but there was no recognition, no spark. Just a void. His girlfriend had left him, taking their daughter. The family we had tried so hard to build was crumbling before my eyes.

Our father’s torment didn't help. He had become more aggressive, showing up drunk and angry, spewing his venom at us. One night, he broke into our apartment, trashing the place and leaving us with nothing but fear. Ryland and I snapped. We couldn't take it anymore. Instead of backing down, we fought back. We dragged him out, fists flying, until he stumbled away, bloodied and cursing.

Jared faced his own hell. The bullying had intensified despite his progress in his program. One afternoon, he came home with his face battered, eyes downcast. The sight of his bruises broke something inside me. The bully was eventually caught and expelled, but the scars on Jared's soul were deep. No amount of justice could erase the pain he had endured.

Tina's health was deteriorating. The years of stress and sacrifice caught up to her, manifesting in a severe heart disease diagnosis. She tried to stay strong, but I saw the fatigue, the pain etched in her face. We were terrified. The memory of losing Grandma and being left to fend for ourselves haunted us. The fear of losing Tina was almost paralyzing.

Despite our best efforts, the counseling sessions couldn't heal the deep-rooted wounds. Every session felt like peeling back layers of a never-ending scar. We tried to confront our past, but the present kept dragging us back into the abyss.

Ryland's addiction took a heavy toll. Arguments became daily occurrences. The stress strained our already fragile family bonds. I could see the guilt in Tina's eyes, the helplessness as she watched her son self-destruct. We were all drowning, and no one had the strength to pull us out.

One night, after another round of shouting and broken promises, I found myself on the balcony, looking out at the city lights. The noise of the streets below was a stark contrast to the silence that filled our home. We were trapped in a cycle of pain, unable to see a way out.

Tina's condition worsened, and the hospital visits became frequent. The medical bills piled up, adding another layer of stress. I could see the fear in Ryland's eyes, the same fear I felt. What would happen to us if we lost her? The thought was too much to bear.

In the midst of all this, Jared found solace in his art. His latest project, a mural of our family’s journey, was a small beacon of hope. It was his way of coping, of expressing the pain and the resilience that defined us. But even his art couldn't hide the bruises, the constant reminders of the battles he faced daily.

A year later, we gathered in our small, battered apartment. The remnants of our dreams lay scattered around us, but so did the flickers of hope. Ryland held his baby daughter, a fragile symbol of the future. Jared, despite his bruises, showed us his art with pride. Tina, weak but determined, raised her glass once more.

"To my boys," she said, her voice steady despite everything. "We faced the darkness and found our way through. We are stronger because of it, and we will continue to rise."

As we clinked our glasses, I felt a fleeting moment of relief, but the journey ahead was still uncertain. The story of our lives was still being written, each chapter filled with turmoil and hardship. We were determined to break the cycle, but the weight of the past and the challenges of the present loomed large. The next chapter was just beginning, and we would face it together, come what may.

[tinyybookclub]

The 3 Heathens: Confronting The Shadows (part 3)

College was supposed to be our fresh start, a chance to leave behind the struggles of our past. For a while, it seemed like everything was falling into place. Ryland thrived on the football field, quickly becoming a standout player. I immersed myself in my studies, joining clubs and working on community projects. Jared, now in a specialized program, was making strides we had only dreamed of. Tina's pride was palpable; we were her success story, proof that her sacrifices had not been in vain.

But the past has a way of catching up, and the cycles we thought we'd escaped began to reappear. It started with Ryland. Despite his outward success, he was struggling to balance the pressures of academics and sports. One night, he called me, his voice shaking. "I messed up, man," he said. "I messed up bad."

He had been seeing a girl, and now she was pregnant. The news spread quickly, and before long, Ryland was called into the dean's office. The school's strict policies meant he was suspended, and his scholarship was revoked. Tina was devastated, and I could see the fear in her eyes—fear that we were falling back into the life she had fought so hard to pull us out of.

I tried to support Ryland, but the stress was taking its toll on me as well. Our father's sporadic appearances became more frequent, as if he could sense our vulnerability. He had always resented our drive to succeed, seeing it as a rejection of his own failures. Now, he seemed determined to drag us back down.

He showed up drunk at one of my campus events, causing a scene and getting me in trouble with the administration. He spread rumors about us in our old neighborhood, painting us as ungrateful sons who had turned our backs on our roots. The weight of his actions pressed down on us, threatening to undo all the progress we had made.

One evening, after another confrontation with our father, Ryland and I sat in the apartment, the silence between us heavy. "We can't keep going like this," I said finally. "We need to face this head-on."

Ryland nodded, but his eyes were distant. "How? We've been fighting our whole lives. I'm tired, man. I don't know how much more I can take."

"We start by breaking the cycle," I said. "We get help. We talk to someone who can guide us through this."

It wasn't easy, but we found a counselor who specialized in trauma and family dynamics. Tina joined us for some sessions, and for the first time, we talked openly about our past. We confronted the pain, the mistakes, and the lingering fears. We learned to recognize the patterns that were holding us back and developed strategies to break free from them.

But as we dug deeper into our trauma, more cracks began to show. Ryland's struggles with becoming a young father and losing his scholarship weighed heavily on him. He took a job, but it barely paid enough to cover his expenses, let alone support a child. His relationship with his girlfriend became strained, leading to constant arguments and stress.

Meanwhile, our father became more aggressive. He broke into our apartment one night, smashing the few belongings we had along with our mothers face and leaving us with nothing but fear and anger. We filed for a restraining order, but the process was slow, and we knew he wouldn't be deterred easily.

Jared, too, faced his own battles. Despite his progress, he was still bullied at school. One day, he came home with bruises on his face, too scared to tell us what had happened. The sight of him beaten and broken tore at our hearts, a stark reminder that our fight was far from over.

Our counselor urged us to stay strong, but the constant pressure was taking its toll. Tina fell ill, the stress of years of struggle manifesting in her body. She tried to hide it, but we could see the pain in her eyes, the fatigue that seemed to weigh her down.

One year later, we gathered once again in our small apartment, now filled with the remnants of broken dreams and unspoken fears. Ryland cradled his baby daughter, a symbol of hope and the future, but his eyes were shadowed with worry. Jared, thriving in his program, showed us his latest art project, his face glowing with pride, yet the bruises were still fresh in our minds. Tina, her eyes filled with tears, raised her glass once more.

"To my boys," she said, her voice steady and strong despite everything. "We faced the darkness and found our way through. We are stronger because of it, and we will continue to rise."

As we clinked our glasses, I felt the weight of the past lift slightly, but I knew the journey was far from over. The future was uncertain, filled with challenges we couldn't yet see. But we were determined to face them together, to break the cycle once and for all.

As we sat there, the silence between us heavy with unspoken fears and hopes, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead. The story of our lives was still being written, and the next chapter was just beginning.

(Part 4 posted ✨)

[tinyybookclub]

The 3 Heathens : Echos Of Resilience (part two)

Life took a harsh turn after Grandma Treena passed. Her absence left a void that no amount of hustle or street smarts could fill. Tina's strength waned as she juggled jobs, the responsibilities of three children, and the ever-looming threat of their father's sporadic return. It was during these dark times that we truly understood the meaning of resilience, even if we didn't have a word for it back then.

Jared, Ryland, and I adapted in our own ways. Jared's autism progressed, but we never let him fall through the cracks. Ryland and I took turns making sure he got to school, helping with his homework, and standing up to the bullies who saw him as an easy target. We became each other's protectors, forming a bond forged in the fires of our shared struggle.

Tina did her best to keep our spirits up. Despite her exhaustion, she still found ways to bring light into our lives.

One winter, when I was about thirteen, Tina sat us down in our cramped living room. She had a look in her eyes that I hadn't seen before—determination mixed with desperation. "We need to get out of here," she said, her voice steady but filled with an urgency that made my heart race. "This city, this life... it's not going to change unless we do something about it."

She had found a program that offered vocational training and job placement assistance for single mothers. It required her to commit to night classes and weekend workshops, which meant we would be on our own more than ever. But she was adamant. "This is our ticket out," she said, gripping our hands tightly. "I need you boys to step up. We have to do this together."

It wasn't easy. There were nights when Tina came home after midnight, too tired to speak. Ryland and I took on more responsibilities, not just for Jared but for the household. We cooked, cleaned, and even learned to manage the bills. We grew up fast, but it was a necessary sacrifice.

Slowly, things started to change. Tina graduated from the program and landed a job as a medical assistant. The pay wasn't great, but it was steady and came with benefits. For the first time in years, we had a semblance of stability. We moved out of the shelter into a tiny apartment, but to us, it felt like a mansion.

As Tina's career grew, so did our dreams. Ryland and I focused on our studies, determined to make her proud. Jared, with the support of special education programs, began to thrive in his own way. We still faced challenges—our father's sporadic and unwelcome visits, the lingering shadows of our past—but we faced them together.

High school brought new opportunities. Ryland excelled in sports, earning a scholarship to a state college. I immersed myself in academics and community service, vowing to pave a path for kids like us. We both knew our success was not just for us, but for Tina, who had sacrificed everything to give us a fighting chance.

One night, just before Ryland and I were set to leave for college, we sat around our worn kitchen table, reminiscing. Tina, looking tired but radiant, raised a toast with her glass of cheap wine. "To my boys," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You made it. We made it."

As we clinked our glasses, I felt a surge of pride and gratitude. We had come a long way from the days of hiding in the park, of dollar store Christmases and sleepless nights. Tina had shown us that no matter how deep the darkness, there was always a way out. She had given us the greatest gift—a vision of a better life and the strength to pursue it.

Our story wasn't just one of survival; it was one of triumph. We were the product of our environment, yes, but more importantly, we were the product of a mother's unwavering love and relentless determination. And as we stepped into our futures, we carried her spirit with us, knowing that no matter where life took us, we would never forget where we came from or the woman who made it all possible.

[tinyybookclub]

The Hollow Eyes (short story)

The Mitchells were a typical suburban family, living in a quiet neighborhood where everyone knew each other. Their two children, Emily and Timmy, were the heart of their lives, filling their home with laughter and joy. But that all changed one rainy night in late October.

It started with a strange noise coming from the basement. At first, Jack Mitchell thought it was just the old furnace acting up again. He grabbed his flashlight and headed down the creaky stairs, muttering to himself about needing to get it replaced. The basement was damp and cold, the air thick with a musty smell. As Jack shone the flashlight around, the beam fell on something that made his blood run cold.

Emily and Timmy stood side by side, their backs to him, staring at the wall. Jack called out to them, but they didn't respond. A chill ran down his spine. He stepped closer, his flashlight shaking slightly. "Kids? What are you doing down here?"

Slowly, they turned around. Their eyes were black voids, empty and soulless. Jack stumbled back, dropping the flashlight. It rolled across the floor, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The children moved in unison, their movements jerky and unnatural.

"Daddy," Emily's voice was a hollow echo, "come play with us."

Jack's heart pounded in his chest. He scrambled to his feet and ran up the stairs, slamming the basement door behind him. He leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. His mind raced. What was happening? He needed to find his wife, Laura.

"Laura!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear. He found her in the living room, staring blankly at the television. "Laura, the kids... something's wrong with the kids."

She turned to look at him, her eyes just as empty as the children's. "They just want to play, Jack."

His blood turned to ice. This wasn't his family. This was something else, something evil. He backed away, heading for the front door, but it slammed shut on its own. The lights flickered and went out, plunging the house into darkness.

Jack fumbled for his phone, but it was dead. He could hear footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate. In the faint light from the street, he saw his wife and children standing together, their hollow eyes fixed on him.

"Join us, Jack," Laura whispered. "Be with us forever."

Desperate, Jack bolted for the kitchen, grabbing the largest knife he could find. He knew he had to defend himself, but against what? His mind was a whirlwind of terror and confusion.

The footsteps grew louder. He could see their silhouettes in the doorway. "Stay back!" he shouted, brandishing the knife.

They advanced, undeterred. Jack swung the knife wildly, but his strikes were ineffective, as if they weren't truly there. Emily reached out and touched his arm, her fingers like ice. A jolt of pain shot through him, and he dropped the knife, clutching his chest.

"Don't fight it, Daddy," Timmy said in a voice that was not his own.

Jack fell to his knees, the room spinning around him. He could feel his strength draining away, his will slipping from his grasp. As darkness closed in, he saw their eyes—the hollow, soulless eyes of his possessed family—watching him with an unholy hunger.

In his last moments, Jack understood the terrible truth. The house had been waiting for them, feeding on their love and turning it into something monstrous. And now, it had claimed them all.

When the neighbors found the house eerily silent the next day, they assumed the Mitchells had gone on an impromptu trip. It wasn't until weeks later, when the new owners moved in, that the truth began to emerge. The laughter of children could be heard at night, and shadows moved where no one should be. The new family never stood a chance.

And so, the house waited, always hungry, always watching, for its next victims to join the hollow-eyed Mitchells in eternal play.

[tinyybookclub]

Georgia & Le’Ann : short story

Georgia and Leeann had met online, their bond growing stronger with each video call and text message. Georgia lived in a bustling city on the East Coast, while Leeann enjoyed the tranquility of her small Midwestern town. Despite the miles between them, they were determined to close the gap and build a life together.

After months of planning, Georgia found a job in Leeann's town, and they were ecstatic about the prospect of living together. They rented a cozy house with a garden, picturing a future filled with shared breakfasts and long walks.

The day of Georgia's move arrived, and Leeann was waiting at the airport with a handmade sign that read, "Welcome Home, Georgia!" Their reunion was a blur of tears and laughter as they embraced, finally together.

Weeks passed, and their life together was even better than they had imagined. They spent their weekends exploring nearby trails, cooking new recipes, and planning their future. They talked about adopting a dog and planting a vegetable garden in the spring.

One crisp autumn evening, Georgia suggested they drive to a nearby town for a romantic dinner. They sang along to their favorite songs as the car navigated winding roads. But in an instant, everything changed. A truck, swerving to avoid a deer, crashed into them. The world spun into chaos.

In the aftermath, Leeann woke up in the hospital, her body bruised and broken. Georgia was gone. The shock and grief were unbearable. The vibrant life they had dreamed of together shattered in a heartbeat.

In the weeks that followed, Leeann struggled to find meaning in her pain. The house they had shared was a constant reminder of the love they had lost. But in her darkest moments, she felt Georgia’s presence, a whisper in the wind or a flicker of light.

Determined to honor Georgia's memory, Leeann decided to live the life they had planned together. She planted the vegetable garden, each seed a tribute to their dreams. She adopted a dog from the local shelter, naming her Hope.

Leeann found strength in their memories, cherishing the love that had brought them together. Though Georgia was gone, their love endured, a testament to their unbreakable bond. And as the seasons changed, the garden flourished, a living reminder that love, even in the face of tragedy, could still grow.

[tinyybookclub]

Embracing the Journey of Mental Health 🌟

Mental health is a topic that often gets overlooked, but it’s vital to our well-being and overall happiness...

For a long time, I struggled with acknowledging my own mental health needs. I was caught up in the hustle and bustle of life, pushing myself to meet expectations and ignoring the signs that I needed to slow down. Anxiety and stress became constant companions, whispering doubts and fears into my mind.

I eventually reached a breaking point. It felt like the weight of the world was crushing me, and I knew I had to make a change. That’s when I turned to writing.

Through writing, I discovered the most powerful tool for managing my mental health. It helped me process my feelings, understand my triggers, and find clarity amidst chaos. Journaling became a daily ritual, a safe space where I could be honest with myself.

Writing also allowed me to connect with others. Sharing my experiences online opened up conversations about mental health, and I realized I wasn’t alone. There’s an incredible community out there, full of people who understand and support each other.

So, if you’re struggling with your mental health, I encourage you to find your outlet. It doesn’t have to be writing—it could be painting, music, exercise, or anything that helps you express yourself. Remember, it’s okay to take a step back and focus on your well-being. Prioritizing mental health is not a sign of weakness, but a step towards strength and resilience.

Stay kind to yourselves, and never underestimate the power of opening up and seeking help. We’re all on this journey together, and there’s always hope 💗

With love and light,

tinyybookclub 🌻

[tinyybookclub]

The Whispering Man.. ( a suspenseful short story)

In the quiet town of Willow Creek, nestled between a dense forest and a murky lake, a peculiar legend thrived. It was said that every full moon, a shadowy figure known as the "Whispering Man" roamed the streets, whispering secrets to those who dared to listen. These secrets were rumored to reveal the listener's deepest fears, often driving them to madness.

One night, Emily, a curious teenager with a penchant for the supernatural, decided to uncover the truth behind the legend. Armed with a flashlight and a notebook, she ventured out into the moonlit streets, the cold wind sending shivers down her spine.

As she walked, the once familiar town felt alien. The houses seemed to loom over her, their windows like dark, unblinking eyes. The silence was deafening, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Emily's heart pounded in her chest, but she pressed on, determined to find the Whispering Man.

She reached the old town square, where a dilapidated fountain stood as a relic of better days. Emily sat on the edge, her breath visible in the frigid air, and waited. Minutes felt like hours as she scanned the shadows, her anxiety growing with each passing moment.

Suddenly, she heard it—a soft, eerie whisper carried by the wind. Her blood ran cold as she turned to see a figure emerging from the darkness. The Whispering Man was tall and thin, his face obscured by a hood. He moved silently, his presence overwhelming and sinister.

Emily's instincts screamed at her to run, but her curiosity anchored her in place. The Whispering Man approached, stopping just a few feet away. His voice was a raspy murmur, barely audible but profoundly chilling.

"Do you wish to know your deepest fear?" he asked, his words slicing through the air.

Emily nodded, her throat too dry to speak. The Whispering Man leaned closer, and his breath felt like ice against her ear.

"In the darkest corner of your mind," he whispered, "there lies a fear so consuming that it will haunt you forever."

Before she could react, the Whispering Man vanished, leaving Emily alone with her thoughts. The fear he spoke of began to take root in her mind, growing with each passing day. She found herself unable to sleep, the shadows in her room morphing into grotesque shapes, whispering her name.

As weeks turned into months, Emily's sanity frayed. She became a recluse, her once bright eyes now hollow and haunted. The legend of the Whispering Man had claimed another victim, his terrifying secret forever etched in her soul.

And so, the town of Willow Creek remained under the shadow of the Whispering Man, his whispers a reminder that some secrets are better left undiscovered.

[tinyybookclub]

the 3 heathens P.T. 1 visuals

[tinyybookclub]

The 3 Heathens: just the beginning ... (Part 1)

Alot of people hear childhood trauma and think “ wow you were abused as a kid ?” in reality we’re the product of teen pregnancy. We were conditioned by our environment to think that what we witnessed and experienced as children was normal , but thankfully we had a mom who pushed us to want more for ourselves. She put the vision in our head that we could be so much bigger than our struggles and what NYC poverty gave us. Sometimes our parents accidentally traumatize us because they dont have money.. Or they made bad decisions as a teenager.. Which definitely was the case with my mom. Her name is Christina but she ONLY goes by Tina.  ( I don't even think anyone knows my moms government name for real.) She's about 5’7 and 130 pounds , yellow as the sun , with the hottest pixie on the block. I remember dudes making Halle Berry references trying to spit game and getting brutally ignored by my mom as a kid. She always attracted a lot of attention, from both genders.. People always were inspired or influenced by my mom no matter what we went through. She grew up on the East side of Harlem raised in a middle class household as an only child.  She tells us stories about how she was a troubled teen who made her life hard all on her own by rebelling; she never once blamed her mother. My mom had my oldest brother Jared when she was 15, he’s a product of rape and my mothers good morals. He was diagnosed with autism at the age of 7. Our mom was super strict about education despite what other obstacles we went through, so Jareds regression was a dead giveaway in second grade when all of a sudden all the social skills our mother drilled in our head slowly dissipated. My twin brother Ryland and I made a pact to always protect Jared, and that we did. It got so bad in grade school they separated our schools and my mom started calling us “ The 3 Heathens”. We’re from NYC, a place where most don’t make it out. We’ve all seen a lot of crazy shit growing up and the majority of it was inside of our own home at the hands of our own father. We didn't have a mom who would necessarily neglect us and now that I’m older I understand that she had us young and was learning as she was parenting. Eventually she realized trying to keep idolizing this unrealistic idea of family with a man who was toxic to the environment and everything around him wasn't ever going to work. So no matter what trauma we’ve faced I always remind everyone she did the best she could with us, although there's times I wish she was stronger because by time she realized the ways she was  failing us .. it was too late. Too late as in , there's already trauma, broken trust and constant let downs.

As kids though, I feel like we always tried  to make the best of everything. My mom was the type of person who could decorate a whole house with dollar tree shit. It didn't matter what holiday or what her money was looking like she made sure to try and create traditions with us. My brothers and I had the craziest imaginations that would turn the NYC jungle to a magical playground and all she did was encourage us to stay innocent.  We always spent time outside in parks, riding trains, traveling tristate on the metro north,  sitting in front of buildings or simply running errands and making 1000 trips to welfare. I didn't realize until I got older that my mom only kept us out because we were living in a shelter and she wanted us to experience more than blatant poverty. That was one of the funniest things about my mom Tina . She was the bougiest welfare queen, hiding her food stamp card in stores as if she was embarrassed. That's how I knew she wanted better for us. She always said “ We will never LOOK like what we’re going through.” So we didn't. If she had to work until the sun came up she would if it meant providing. My grandma always said she had the work ethic of a man. She knew what life she wanted and she was willing to go to the ends of the earth to give it to us. Even if it meant us spending weekends with my grandma while she worked.  My grandma was there for us a lot, but by the time we were born my grandma was older. My grandma is an older lady named Treena who couldn't have children and adopted my mom when she was 40, so hopefully that gives you perspective. She helped us the best she could and my mom helped her the best she could until our grandma Treena passed away when we were 9. After that life really sucked. It broke my mom and life went downhill.

(Part 2/3 posted ✨💗)