《|| Touch || Peterpan FF ||》✨ Prologue ✨
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Madison, a girl that suffered alot since her mother's death. Her father only mentioned that she died of sickness,
But what sickness?
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She looked perfectly fine before the day of her death...
Madison despised her father, being the person that's way beyond on what she had known when she was a child.
They were once happy. But..., unfortunately that light of a happy family died when sudden problems came crashing through their life.
Her father slowly turned into another person that she and her mother didn't know anymore. He became easily stressed out, his pride went up even at smallest things, he even had the strength to slap her mother once, just right in front of her.
She didn't see him done it again but knew that everytime she was away from them, they would argue, her father's voice always boomed throughout the house.
Her mother always told her it was nothing to worry about, but Madison knew it was something for her to worry, seeing her mother gain some bruises she didn't know of back then.
Her mother always walked into her room, suddenly hugging her while she was playing with her toys. Whenever her mother hugged her, she felt like her mother's hug showed as if she was the only one that makes the pain go away.
Madison was just a 5 year-old girl back then. Her mother promised that she would never leave her, no matter what.
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But whether we like it or not, some promises are just meant to be broken by time.
Her mother passed away so sudden, making Madison feel that the whole world fell on top of her for the first time.
Her world...
Everything had gotten even rough after a year without her mother, Madison always got yelled at even for no specific reason. She received slaps and short beatings from her father whenever he got mad, mostly when he gets home from who knows where.
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She just couldn't take it anymore, she didn't even done anything wrong. At the age of 7, she find the idea to atleast make her feel numb through all the pain she had encountered, by hurting herself more.
Why not? It isn't that bad...
After all...,
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She suffered a lot of physical pain because of her father...
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Then got mentally scarred because of her mother...
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It's fair that she aswell, can hurt herself too...
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...?
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She began slitting her wrist everytime after a beatup...
Every moment she felt pain in her body, it never stops there. As if the pain she had spreads quickly through her entire self like a virus that can't be stopped.
No matter how hard she tried to get rid of the pain...
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One night, she was sitting at the side of her bed, feeling her body ache due to another beating. Her father went home late again, drunk as ever. She tried helping him and telling him to stop drinking every single day and start to have a care about himself and his health. But in return for her concern?
A slap came across her face that echoed in the living room, and that began her father's little beat-up.
She let out a deep sigh, taking a blade out from her drawers next to her bed and pulled one of her sleeves up, revealing healed past cuts that she had slit from before.
She stared at them blankly...
Is it weird for her to feel a slight feeling of satisfaction from seeing her arm?
The way the lines drew out in an imperfect yet nostalgic way?
Nostalgia from remembering the times she have done it as well as the emotions ran through her that time while doing so.
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She felt her eyes began to water as she suddenly felt the urge to brush her free hand against the upper part of her cheek, wiping away the tear that's about to roll down through her cheek and towards her chin.
She took a deep breath and finally lifted the blade up abit and was about to slit a line on her skin until,
She instantly stopped, the blade just an inch away from her right wrist as she looked at her window.
She was sure that the sound came from there instead of her own door.
Her window was covered by a light blue curtain, making it hard for her to see or did the knocking sound. She squinted her eyes and finally saw something through it.
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It was a figure of a boy...
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It seemed like it was standing on something flat, just outside her window.
Then she remembered,
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There was no balcony to even stand on.
So how can someone just appear like that, as if it was REALLY standing from outside?
She frantically shakes her head left and right, thinking that she might be imagining things since she was too tired. She put the blade back to her drawer and push the drawer back, making it close.
She then rubbed her eyelids gently as she then raised her feet from the ground and finally rested them on the soft cushions of her bed. She slowly leaned back until she felt the soft feeling of her pillow behind her head and closed her eyes.
As she did so, she heard the soft knocking sounds again.
Deciding not to give any much attention to it, she fell asleep as she convinced herself that she's just imagining things that can possibly scare her.
Every night since that day, she heard soft knocks from the window. It usually meets the time where the beatings are already done or when she feels like slitting her wrists again. She kinda felt slightly annoyed by this because her fear always won against her need to feel numb at her everyday pain.
Because of that happening every single night, she finally decided to just sleep early or right after a beating and ignore everything around her and on what she's hearing.
Since she knew that she'll be afraid the longer she's awake and the more she paid attention to it.
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