Warning: Contains talk of emotional abuse
“TORA!! COME ON!” It was Ascon, his mender, crying and screaming at Tora’s doorstep. He wailed and pounded on the pod where Tora now lived, but it refused to bloom open and let him in. When Tora had moved, he’d chosen the plant that was his home for that very reason: it opened for no one but him. Ascon wasn’t getting in, and Tora, desperately pretending to be asleep in his small pile of leaves for a bed, was doing his best not to let him.
It was painful, listening to the screaming go from rage to sorrow and back again. He felt such a strong urge to just open the door, throw his arms around his father and apologize for… for everything, just everything. To tell him to stop crying, that he’d be good again, he’d be better for him, he’d…
Then all of the ugly words Ascon had ever said to him would flood back into his ears and strangle the urge into silence. Tora lied there, waiting for Ascon to give up while he fought the mess of anger and heartache swirling in the pit of his stomach.
He waited… and waited…. and-
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