MamaCockroach

A figure opens the door, and drags his feet across the dirtied white tile floor. He kicks the door closed before heading off to his bedroom. The figure flicks on the light of his room, and looks at himself in the mirror hanging on the pale wall. His normally vibrant blue eyes were dull, and tired. Various bruises covered his neck, while one covered his cheek. He sighed and walked over  his bed, removing his shirt in the process. On his chest more bruises and scars cover his small chest and arms. He got into another fight with him, over something so stupid. The young man chuckled dryly to himself. Their fights always seem to start like that, o