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He was so angry. He couldn't even think of a reason why, and the more he tried to reason that anger; his own logic just provoked him more. It felt like he couldn't breathe unless he was screaming in rage, his chest heaving and his eyes blind to anything but red - his hands trembled but were sure in their violence, thoughts were flying without ever settling into coherence, an entire body filled to the brim and spilling over in one second; and leaving him with a crushing guilt and regret the next.

Liam tries not to remember that day - the sneer of the officer stuck dealing with delinquents, (the muttered, 'IED my ass') the searing disappointment and concern of the few people he loves burning him like a brand.

It's his first day tomorrow, and he wants to throw up. He's not sure if he's excited, or nervous but  I can't  even go five seconds without whatever I'm touching turning to shit maybe, maybe I shouldn't be thinking about this. He grabs his headphones, the music on low in the hopes of lulling the teen to sleep. Before his unconscious can truly sink it's claws in deep, there's space enough for one last doubt to slip through, I ran like a little bitch, tail between my legs, like a coward, I can't do this.


Growing up Liam was...disturbingly energetic. A little harsh? Yes, but also the god's honest truth. There wasn't a day that would go by without the thundering of young feet, practically bouncing off the walls - shrieking laughter, and the playful growls of his stepfather echoing.

David snatched the young boy up, his giggling reaching an impressive pitch as he was tickled mercilessly -  the tiny boy wriggled to no affect.

"Mwuhahahahaha-!", the older man boomed with humour, "Do you know what happens when you still a monsters treasure....?" There was a tense moment of stillness, as he tried to keep a straight face, and Liam's eyes widened in attention, and then realisation -

"They get-"


"-raspberries on their bellies!"

The five year old squealed, "NOO, nononono, it tiickl-" his voice cut off by his own fits of laughter and snorts. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

The hero of this adventure struggled valiantly, tiny slaps bouncing off the creatures head -"No! I've been hit!" its large scaly legs stumbling around, almost dropping the kingdom's tiny saviour as the slaps devolved into lethal flicks and ear pinching - "My one weakness!" - "You'll never win, you're evil!"

Its hooves clatter on the tiny stones and rocks that littered the mountainside, ultimately causing his downfall onto the jagged (cushioned and actually really quite soft) rocks (sofa) below.

"I WIN!" Liam crowed victoriously, as his stepfather peeped out of one eye.

"I don't suppose this means I can sit down, rest my old bones, have a nap.." he teased.

"Don't be silly, you promised I could be the monster this time! The monster always has more fun!"

Disguising his amusement behind a heavy sigh, he hefted them both upright, staying at eye level, "So what are the rules then?"

Liam gave a toothy grin, and said with a tiny, and adorable little roar, "Run!"



Sometimes there's an ache, it sits in the middle of his chest and doesn't leave until it feels like it. It's an unbearable loneliness that used to reduce him to tears, the only thing that was ever really known to bring a halt to his boundless energy. As Liam got older it happened less and less, but it also got worse and would sometimes last for as long as a day.

When he could feel the very real threat of more appointments with his counsellor he learned to hide it better, but it never went away.

It felt like the most torturous kind of waiting.