Justin Mark Campbell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likefatherlikeson) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2014-09-14 10:51 pm
likefatherlikeson) wrote in muserevival2014-09-14 10:51 pm
Entry tags:
075.3. Drabble
Inner Strength
Inner strength wasn’t something Justin ever had much of. When he was weak, he was weak in the mind, body and soul. Every fibre of him struggled to function. What he really wanted to do was track his biological mother down where she was staying in the City and just hurt her, to somehow match all the ways she hurt him over the years. The hardest part about his illness would always be the self-destruction. He held an empty glass in his hands, rolling it back and forth between his palms. He had really tried to wrap his head around the fact his mom had shown up to take him back to Chicago, but it just sent all his thoughts and emotions derailing into another proverbial trainwreck in his head.
His iPod was playing softly on its dock in the background, but he was unhearing to it. After another moment, he abruptly smashed the glass against the surface of his nightstand and all but one of the shattered shards slipped through his fingers, leaving some bleeding cuts over his hand. He flopped onto his back on his bead and held his arm up, the shard of glass poised to the pale skin of his inner forearm. He caught himself before he sliced over the skin with it, only to have his hand grip like a vice around the broken bit of glass and it cut into his palm. Blood trickled down over the tattooed lyrics on his inner wrist. Lose your blues...
“Mom, Dad, I need your help!” he cried out through a sob which turned quickly into an hysterical added desperate scream of, “PLEASE HELP ME!” If nothing else, it was a cry for help he had never managed to get to in the past. Maybe it was progress, or maybe it was just something else entirely.
Justin Campbell
Original Character
Inner strength wasn’t something Justin ever had much of. When he was weak, he was weak in the mind, body and soul. Every fibre of him struggled to function. What he really wanted to do was track his biological mother down where she was staying in the City and just hurt her, to somehow match all the ways she hurt him over the years. The hardest part about his illness would always be the self-destruction. He held an empty glass in his hands, rolling it back and forth between his palms. He had really tried to wrap his head around the fact his mom had shown up to take him back to Chicago, but it just sent all his thoughts and emotions derailing into another proverbial trainwreck in his head.
His iPod was playing softly on its dock in the background, but he was unhearing to it. After another moment, he abruptly smashed the glass against the surface of his nightstand and all but one of the shattered shards slipped through his fingers, leaving some bleeding cuts over his hand. He flopped onto his back on his bead and held his arm up, the shard of glass poised to the pale skin of his inner forearm. He caught himself before he sliced over the skin with it, only to have his hand grip like a vice around the broken bit of glass and it cut into his palm. Blood trickled down over the tattooed lyrics on his inner wrist. Lose your blues...
“Mom, Dad, I need your help!” he cried out through a sob which turned quickly into an hysterical added desperate scream of, “PLEASE HELP ME!” If nothing else, it was a cry for help he had never managed to get to in the past. Maybe it was progress, or maybe it was just something else entirely.
Original Character