DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 7
𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵.
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )
"Daddy, I'm sorry," Chip
whimpers, his eyes wide with fear.
He's never felt so lost, so
small. Plankton's breaths come in
quick, sharp bursts, his body a
tangle of frustration and pain.
Plankton's antennae thrash in the
air, his eye wild and unpredictable.
"You don't know what you're
talking about!" he yells, his voice
bouncing off the walls of the room.
He turns away from his son, his
body language screaming 'don't touch'.
Chip's eyes are pools of pain,
his hand hovering awkwardly. "But
Daddy," he says, his voice barely
above a whisper. "Just t---"
"Don't you dare!"
Plankton's antennae whip around
wildly, his eye flashing with a
mixture of anger and fear.
Chip yanked his hand away
but doing so, he accidentally
brushes against Plankton's
arm in the process.
The explosion of emotion is
instant. Plankton recoils, his
body jerking away as if burned.
He sweeps his arm across the
nightstand, sending books flying.
Karen knew she needs to intervene.
"Chip, go to your room," she
says firmly, her voice cutting
through the storm of emotions.
Chip's eyes are wide with shock,
his body trembling as he
backs away from the bed, tears
streaming down his face. "But
Mom," he protests, his voice
choked with emotion. "I didn't me—"
"I know, Chip," Karen says,
her tone brooking no argument.
Plankton's antennae are a blur of
movement, his breathing
erratic. "Your dad needs space."
Chip nods and makes his way to his
room, his legs wobbly. As he
closes the door, Karen
sighs, her eyes sad as she
turns back to Plankton. Karen knew
to tread carefully.
Plankton is panting, his antennae
twitching rapidly. He's
upset, more than she's seen in
a long time.
"Plankton," she says softly,
approaching the bed. "Hey,
I'm here." His antennae
quiver, and she knows she's
treading on thin ice when he
kicks the blanket off his bed
with a snarl. Karen's heart breaks
seeing the pain in his eye.
He sweeps his arm across the
dresser, sending a cascade
of items crashing to the floor.
The room echoes with his rage,
each crash a declaration of his
frustration. Karen
swallows the lump in her throat,
knowing she has to be the calm
in this storm.
Plankton's breaths come in
quick, sharp bursts, his antennae
still quivering. He turns away
from her, his back to the wall,
his body tight with tension.
Karen approaches slowly, her eyes
on his, watching for
any sign of his mood shifting.
"Let it out," she whispers, her
hands outstretched but not
touching. "You're safe here."
Plankton's body convulses
with anger, and he throws
another object across the room.
It hits the wall with a thud,
leaving a small crack. His antennae
quiver with each ragged breath
he takes. Karen knows they're
on the edge.
With trembling hands, she
picks up his pillow from the floor,
carefully moving closer.
"You don't have to keep it in,"
she says softly, extending the
pillow towards him. "You can
hit this." Her voice is a
soothing balm to the chaos.
Plankton's antennae stop
their frantic dance for a
moment, his eye flickering
with something akin to hope.
He takes the pillow, his
fists tightening around it.
With a roar, he brings
the pillow down onto the bed,
his strength surprising even
Karen. The sound is muffled,
but the fury in the gesture
is clear. He hits it again,
and again, each blow a silent
scream of pain and anger.
Karen watches, her heart
breaking with each hit, her eyes
never leaving his. She knows
this is his fear and frustration
manifesting in the only way
his overwhelmed mind knows how.
"Let it out, Plankton," she whispers,
moving closer, her voice steady.
"You're safe here."
Plankton's body shakes as he
slams the pillow into the mattress,
his antennae quivering with each
impact. Karen remains still. She knows
this storm of emotion isn't directed
at her, but at the invisible barriers
that have caged him in for so long.
He throws the pillow again,
his face contorted with rage. The
cotton explodes into a cloud of feathers,
but it's not enough. He needs more.
He turns, his antennae a
blur of emotion, and sees the
closet door. With a snarl, he
charges towards it, throwing it
open. The sound of hangers
clattering fills the air as he
starts to rip clothes from their
hangers, tossing them around the
room like confetti in a tornado.
Karen watches, her eyes
filled with a mix of sadness
and fear. This is the what
his condition turns him into
when the pressure gets too much.
Her heart aches for him,
trapped in his own mind.
She knows she has
to be careful; any wrong move
could set him off.
Plankton's eye darts around
the room, searching for something
else to unleash his fury upon.
His antennae quiver,
his body still shaky. Karen moves closer,
slowly, her hand reaching out.
He turns to her, the anger
in his gaze unmistakable.
But as he sees her hand,
his expression falters.
Karen takes a deep breath,
her voice steady. "It's okay," she says.