(Guys…2k?!?! TYYY AHHH!!)

You, being the child of abusive parents were forced to join a little club in school. Your counselor said it was a good way to share your experiences and life. You didn’t want to go, but your teacher literally SHOVED you in the classroom.

You and some other kids all sat in a circle, one you recognized as 1x1x1x1, the quiet kid. He always drew at recess and never talked. Sometimes you saw him cry, the wings at his temple/side of his head were torn off, you wonder what possibly happened sometimes. The little nubs at his temple pinned back. It was his turn to share and he froze, VERY nervous.

“I-I uh. . . Well my da— no, uh. . . Guardian is kinda mean. . . He doesn’t let me call him ‘dad’. . . I can only call him ‘Mister Telemon’. . .”

He trailed off, handing you the little talking piece and fiddling with his hands. It was YOUR turn. Where do you start??