"Talking"
'Thoughts' or anything that is written in cursive form.
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"Mio Dio! How many times do I have to tell you to stop leaving your goddamn phone in the house, Snow?! I was calling you for hours! Where in the bloody hell have you been?!" I winced when I heard my Dad cursed darkly at me. He was standing at the front of our house, glaring daggers at me. Ah crap, here we go again. I let out a weary sigh and meet his piercing glare. He slowly swept his dark blue eyes on my disheveled and bloodied appearance, frowning in disdain.
"E cos'è questo? Did you get yourself in a fight? Again? Sul serio, Snow? Which gang is it this time?" He asked, his tongue slipping back to his native tongue, his accent was thick and smooth. He always does, whenever he feels something extreme. Be it a joy for having the deal for his books or stress because of worrying about me. But most of the time it happens because of the latter.
I only scowled at the side darkly, muttering childishly, "it's not my fault," under my breath. I saw him sighed and pinched his nose in annoyance from the corner of my eyes.
"Come on, let's get you patch up first."
* * * * *
"Seriously, every fucking time..." My dad muttered darkly as he grabs a clean wet cloth and gently wiping it over my eyes, accidentally brushing one of my wounds. I hissed a bit in pain before I could even stop myself, cursing myself inwardly. I felt him stilled and heard him clicked his tongue.
"D-dad...?" I called out to him but got no response.
Oh shit, he's not answering me. I really have done it this time.
"Um...D-dad?" I called out once again but still no response.
Crap, this is bad. I can't even hear his thoughts. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap.
"H-hey, Dad?" Please answer already!
"What?" came his calm voice as he finally resumes wiping my face.
Thank god.
I didn't even notice I was holding my breath as I sighed in relief. I heard him getting something from the first-aid kit as he told me to close my eyes and applied some cream and put some plasters over it. My right eye was bruised badly and it was painted red because of the irritation while my lips have cuts.
This has been our typical routine, especially on a night like this. Whenever I'm caught in a fight, be it by a group of thugs or by the bullies. My dad is always the one who patches me up. He's also the one who forced me to learn how to defend myself since I always get myself in trouble, one way or another.
"Open your mouth," He muttered as he proceeded to prod his fingers in my mouth and applied some ointment on it. I can vaguely taste the medicine on the tip of my tongue. He did this to the side of my head and my lips. He then ordered me to take off my clothes as he proceeded to get more clean clothes in the kit. As I took off my shirt, I didn't notice him staring at me, only when I finally took it off did I see his murderous expression.
Ah, merda.
I forgot about my stomach. Fuck.
Well, it was nice living for these past 17 years. Goodbye, world.
"Che cazzo di vero, Snow? What the hell happened to you? You--what is this?! Your body is a fucking mess! Who did this to you?! WHO'S THE COGLIONE THAT DID THIS TO YOUR BODY?! ANSWER ME, SNOW!" He screamed darkly as he glares daggers at my body. His breathing was labored as I saw absolute murder and pain flashed through his dark blue eyes.
Ah. I can see it.
'I am going to kill them! How dare they do this to my precious son!' I heard him thought loudly as thousands of dark images flashed through my eyes. I felt my heart stilled for a moment.
'KILL THEM.'
'MUST PROTECT MY SON.'
'THEY'VE HURT HIM.'
'KILL THEM!'
This...I made him think this. This is all my fault.
"I'm sorry..." I muttered under my breath.
I felt him stilled for a moment and let out a sigh as he kneels before me, his hand reaching towards me. I saw his hand slowly inching towards me as hundreds of distorted voices screamed into my head.
'Kill him.'
'This is your fault.'
'You killed her!'
'Somebody help me!'
'Mommy, where are you?'
'KILL HIM.'
'Help me! He's going to kill me!'
'Mommy!'
'KILL HIM.'
Thousands of dark hands latched onto my body, pulling me as thousands of images flashed through my eyes. From her death to someone's demise. A kid crying, a man murdering his family, a young girl being raped by her relative—
'HELP ME!'
No...don't come near me...n-no. Please, I don't want to hear it anymore! Please, somebody, make it stop...MAKE IT STOP!
'HELP ME!'
"Shut up...shut up! N-no, I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to d-do it! I promise I--" I gasped as I curled myself into a ball. The voices keep on shouting as the images keep on flowing on my head.
Fuck! Shut up!
"Hey, hey!...sshh...sshh, calm down, bambino. I am here, no one's gonna hurt you...sshh, I'm here..." I can vaguely feel my dad's arms wrapping around me tightly as he rocks us back and forth. Warmth spread all over my body as the sinister voices slowly faded away. I felt him kissing me on the forehead as he gently wipes my tears. I didn't even notice that I was crying. I look up and saw my dad staring at me full of sadness and pain as he hugged me even tighter and kissed me gently on the face. It made my heart ache to see him like this.
Fuck. I made him feel like that! This is all because of these weird voices I keep on hearing. I don't know why or how but I can always see and hear things that others normally don't. But it doesn't stop there too. For some unknown reason, every time someone, no matter who thinks about something, I can read their inner thoughts. I can see it clearly in their eyes. I can hear it loudly from their hearts. All of the protected and darkest thoughts that any person can have, I can hear all of them. It varies by the range and radius too, and if I touch the person, I can even see images that run through their minds.
It's like they've spoken it out loud.
And it's been like this since I was a child. I've been living in agony because of this annoying, cursed ability. I remember one time when I finally had the courage to tell my dad about my ability. He only smiled at me in acceptance and yet I can see the tinge of melancholy in it. He accepted me wholeheartedly but I know the truth.
Even he thinks that I'm weird. That I'm not normal, a mistake.
And I hated myself even more.
"Have you calm down now, piccolo mia?" I heard my dad asked tenderly, making me snapped out of my musings. He gently holds my head and tilted it up, he looked at me in the eyes, as if he was searching for something. He then nodded and smiled brightly at me as he gave me one last hug.
"You're not a mistake, Cara mia," He whispered in my ears as if he can read my thoughts earlier. This made me flinched but he only hugged me even tighter before letting me go.
"Well, ain't this such a touching scene?"
* * * * * *
Here's the translation provided by google translate lmao:
Mio Dio: My god
E cos'è questo: And what's this
Sul serio: Seriously