█ ▌┋❝ More like it’s gonna hurt like a MOTHERFUCKER.

image

               ❝ ’m not gonna scream. 

              He sounds half dead as he makes the promise, but he intends to keep it. Jet Star takes the cloth into his mouth, however, and grips the edges of the table with bloody hands. He feels hot and cold rush through him at the same time, horrible pain and a terrifying numbness over his body and mind.

              Jet pulls the rag from his lips suddenly. He sits up, no matter how hard it hurts, and looks into the other’s eyes with his own tearful ones. His voice cracks (he’s still just a child), and he points to Party. He falls back onto the table after the cautionary words escape his lips.

              ❝ No drugs. Not one. 

image

            Party strips his jacket, revealing a black TANK top underneath it. He tosses it to the side & places the painkillers on it as he stared back at the man with a DEMANDING look. Curiosity plagued his mind as he realized that he no drugs in this endeavor would be RUTHLESS, but —– the man insisted. The man had to intent on FORCING him to take it either. ❝ No drugs —– ❞ Tearing a sheet of ( decently. ) cleaned cloth, he began to pour rubbing ALCOHOL on it. ❝ I won’t give you any, but I hope you know that this will hurt like HELL. Especially when I try to SUTURE it. ❞