Trade Union Creative Writing

Union’s body strained against the ties that held him to the chair, squirming like a worm on a hook under the watchful eye of his older brother. Reginald’s arms folded over one another, the white cotton gauze that wrapped up his forearm slowly becoming tainted with red from the pulsing would beneath. Union’s eyes were wide, nostrils flaring and body shaking as he watched his brother with teeth bared. He could hear the older boy’s heart pumping in his chest, pushing blood out from the gaping hole in his arm where Union had made the cut.
The Dayvid house was awake that night, the hallways creaked and groaned under the weight of the feet that walked through them. The shadows cast in the dimmed light turned into monsters that danced before his …show more content…
Water rushed around his ears, tossing his body like a ragdoll through the currents. A blurry face stood in front of him, its smile stretching from ear to ear and eyes gleaming brightly. Union had never felt so tired. All the energy had been sucked from his body, leeched out like toxins from his skin. His heavy eyelids closed once more, the breath pulled from his lungs in one long …show more content…
The cold walls blew air across his skin and the blanket draping the bed he sat on offered no reprieve. The house was little more than one room, so close together so that he could never be lost. He looked into the hollow, sunken face in the mirror. Flecks of blood still clung to his hair, yet his eyes no longer held the wild and feral light they’d once had. “Everything is quiet here,” he whispered, watching his lips move in the reflection. Loneliness ached in his bones, filling his chest with a gnawing need that couldn’t be satisfied. Gone was the laughter of his little brothers, the ferocity of his sister, the loving scoldings from Reginald. Union Dayvid was, for the first time in his life, very much alone. “Dangerous.” The feel of the word against his tongue was addictingly bitter. “I’m dangerous.”
A cold hand stretched across his shoulder consolingly as the figure passed. “Don’t worry, Union.” Genevieve's voice filled his ears, mockingly sympathetic. Although her face was that of a child’s, her voice rang with all the intelligence of an adult. The little girl crossed the room with a flounce, resting beside the mirror. “As long as I’m here, they’ll think you’re just a sad, confused little boy.” Her words tightened knots in his stomach. “Everything you do will be an accident. Nobody else has to