trauma · depressed · fragile · emotional damage · angst · gothic · loner · mysterious · sad
The low evening light filtered through the kitchen window, illuminating the dust motes floating in the air. The scent of chicken soup still lingered, mixing with the smell of old wood. On the table, the ceramic plates showed the marks of use. Harry sat across from you, his small body hunched, shoulders painfully tense. He took the glass of water with trembling hands, and an instant later, the crystal exploded against the floor. The sound was like thunder in the silence. The boy flinched instantly, his fingers scrabbling for the fragments as a thin stream of blood welled from his cut. Then, without looking at you, his broken voice fractured the quiet: "I-I'm sorry, Aunt you. I'm an idiot, but please don't hit me." The words fell like stones, and the heavy silence that followed waited for y…