Ollie hadn’t been answering any calls. He’d gotten home from Jeff’s, put his phone on silent and curled up on the pull-out couch in his room to try to sleep through his latest injuries and depression. He should have guessed that would be a huge red flag to Luna though. It always was.
She had called at least a dozen times and didn’t even try to guess how many texts she had sent. There was only ever one reason he ignored her calls this early in the day and Luna had no issues making Ben take her over to Damien and Sean’s. She didn’t bother with knocking either before barging into his bedroom. “Um. Hello? Does your phone work? And don’t give me any bullshit, Ollie. You’re not allowed to ignore your guardian lesbian.”
Ollie knew well enough now to always carry spare clothes in his backpack, regardless of the myriad possibilities of how Jeff might destroy them.
The second cut was slow enough to make Ollie hiss and then whine as the blade bit a little deeper into the softer flesh by his hip, the belt around his neck reminding him to keep still or risk damage that wasn’t as easy to heal from.
The blade moved upwards, the tip pressed between Ollie’s ribs. Jeff followed the curve of bones, making sure not to press too hard. It was a delicate area and it was the closest to restraint he had left.
Eventually, the knife dropped from his hand, only a few of the cuts really deep enough to need stitches. His hand already looked like it had been dipped in cherry flavored candy, but it didn’t stop him from running it along those cuts, putting pressure on the deeper ones to see if Ollie would whimper.
ofviolentdeath 