tw: depictions of self destructive tendencies. emotional and verbal abuse. panic attack.
club rules
#20: it is desirable to be on good terms with clients, but don't let them take advantage
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𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄. He'd had it before.
"She is gone."
"She-what?"
"Gone. You are the only hope now."
"I don't want to be," He protested, but his mouth was glued shut. "I'm not."
"You have to. 兒子, son, our only son. We're too old to have any more. You are our only chance. Don't you want to make us happy?"
"But I'm not happy," He tried to say, but it was too late. He was melting, pressed, squeezed, kneaded like dough. Spread out on a sheet and made to fit with a cookie cutter.
"Be who we want you to be."
"Who are you?" He asked, but he was asking a mirror. He couldn't recognise himself.
"I'm you." His reflection whispered. "I'm the you that they love."
He realised. "You're who I ought to be."
"They will never love you. They love me. They've only ever loved me."
His eyes burned. Was he crying? He couldn't tell. Voices swirled and gathered, flying past and through him.
"Boys don't cry."
"Be a man."
"You fight like a girl."
"Disappointment."
"Not good enough."
"We never said that. You're making it up for attention."
"You can do better. Again."
"You are the only child left. No one is coming to help you. Do it yourself."
