Alright so I'm really self conscious about my writing, probably more so than my art so just bear with me

Also kind of trigger warning Clauss is a very broken child so if I do post this book in it's whole just so you know it'll get pretty dark

          If you keep everything bottled up, everyone is safe. But the glass starts breaking. The ground swallows you whole. Those who you love are washed away in the tide when the penny drops.

One
Identity Crisis

          He takes a step off the train platform, officially marking the escape of his past, but not yet prepared for his future.
          He could be considered unusual, wearing pyjama pants and a tshirt with a pun about aliens layered over black long sleeves. His hair is a shocking red, and though he is obviously of Irish descent, his face is free of freckles and seemingly sunburned, ears pierced with silver studs. His strange attire earns him looks from those passing by, but he doesn't seem to notice.
          "Alright, self. You can survive this. Just keep to yourself and you'll be fine." He thinks, bracing himself against a strong gust of wind as he scans his surroundings.
          He sighs, slipping a hand in his pocket and feels the cool, worn leather of a journal. He pulls it out and flips through a few pages until he finds what he is searching for. He scans over what is written, and once satisfied he leaves the station.
           Ring.
           He continues to walk, ignoring the ringing. It couldn't have been his, having turned his phone on silent to avoid a bad situation.
          Ring.
          Could it?
          Ring.
          He takes his phone from his pocket and checks just to be safe.
           "Shit."
          Already so soon into his new life a ghost appears from the past. And of anyone that could call it has to be him.
          He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head to drive off the bittersweet memories swimming in his head and threatening tears. He keeps his phone in his hand and continues to walk as if nothing's wrong.
          Ring.
          "Shut up."
          As if everything's fine.
          Ring.
          "I had to move on."
          As if the tears aren't real.
          Ring.
          "Why can't you?"
          As if the pain is a lie.
          Ring.
          "No..."
          But every step is hell.
          Ring.
          "Please just go away..."
          The tears flow free and real
          Ring.
          "Find someone new."
          And every minute without him is a fresh wound.
          Silence.
          He finds that through the ringing he broke down and is now crouched on the ground, arms over head.
          Remembering he is in a public space, he slowly pulls his arms away and lifts his head like a bird leaving it's nest.
          He sees and feels their stares. Their judgement. He feels alienated from their community as soon as he steps foot in it.
          His nose runs and tears run in tracks first made long ago. He wipes his nose as he stands, collects his dropped phone, and runs.
          His vision is blurred and he can't think or see straight. His breathing is labored as his hands clench and unclench. He unconsciously scratches at old scars, needing to hurt something, to feel something.
          He collapses to the ground, everything scattered. His nails dig into his hands, breaking skin. Blood trickles down. Everything is mixing and his heart is twisting.
          There is a clatter as something hits cement and warm hands take his. They pry his fingers away with surprising strength.
          He can't see, fear being the mighty controller, cancelling vision, cancelling everything.
          "Breathe. Block everything out. Just concentrate on my voice and breathe."
          He cries, knowing it's ugly but he doesn't care. His nails dig into the hands holding his and he knows he's hurting them but can't stop himself. He makes an attempt to breathe in between sobs but can't. He's gasping for something he doesn't deserve, something he can't reach.
          He can hear a voice but can't understand the words. Panic swells his heart and he pulls myself away, digging his hands into each other. The breaths he manages to take have nearly no air. One of the hands rubs his back comfortingly.
          After some time, he is finally able to breathe consistently, however labored it is. His vision clears up at last and he manages to see the one helping him is a girl close to his age. Once his breathing has slowed, she gives him a bottle of water. He takes it and drinks too quickly, choking and breathing hard once more.
          "Be careful. Small sips."
She helps him to a bench and he fights tears once more. He manages to control his breathing and wipe his tears away. He is still scratching at his hands until she takes them.
          "You've sure done a number on your hands. I'm guessing this isn't the first time, huh?"
          She rolls up hid sleeves before he can object to look at his arms and sees the scars and bruises. He winces and her face is full of worry.
          "Hold on a second..." She turns away to search through her bag for something and he lets out a small laugh, which turns into yet more crying. The girl turns back with a worried look and a first aid kit in her hands.
          "Shit, I'm sorry if I messed up already... Gosh, I don't even know you and I'm already babying you."
          She looks down at her hands and sees the dents. She rubs her hands together to try to rid herself of them.
           He drinks more of the water and looks around, remembering a (whatever it's called i can't remember rn) to deal with anxiety. "I see a sidewalk, some trees, a path, a water fountain, and a girl. I feel her hands hoding mine, my heart beating too fast, the blood on my hands, and the tears on my face. I hear birds, my breathing, and rushing water. I smell pine and flowers. I taste blood. Okay so I must be in a park or something like that."
          His breath hitches in his throat as his hands sting. He winces and tries to pull away but the girl holds his hands firm.
          "Shit what the hell what is that shit it fucking stings shit."
          "Stop being such a baby it'll help."
          He sighs and lets the girl finish her work on his hands. "It feels like she's reading my palms." He thinks. "I never liked circuses and I always thought fortune tellers were scams with hand fetishes so it's kind of uncomfortable."
          "So am I going to get a fortune with all this palm reading?" He says, attempting to distract himself from the cause of his breakdown.
          The girl chuckles and plays along. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as she runs her fingers over his freshly bandaged hands.
          "Hmm... I see..."
          "What is it?"
          "You have traveled a long distance... From something perhaps? I see that you have taken a fall... Maybe you lost something?"
          She opens her eyes and looks at him, a smile playing across her lips. "Or maybe you are what is lost..."
          He stares at her, shocked at all she knows.
          "Okay, what the hell. How did you know all that? And aren't you supposed to have a crystal ball or something?"
          She laughs again. It's a sweet sound, similar to the tinkling of wind chimes. "No, I'm not that smart or anything, so don't think highly of me yet. I saw you at the train station. You kinda stood out considering you didn't bring anything and that whole just-got-out-of-bed look you're trying to pull off. And then you flipped and ran off and so I went to see if you were okay and then you weren't so..."
          He sighs heavily. "Yeah, sorry about that I just..."
          The girl shook her head, offering another charming smile. "Don't worry about it. Helping people's kind of in the job description."
          "Job description..?"
          He takes a look at her and it finally hits him. She pulls out a wallet containing her badge and sticks out a hand for a handshake.
          "Arin Leigh, RPD. Lovely to meet you."
          He stares at her in awe, not shaking her hand. For someone with such a short stature it shocks him a bit, but she clearly has the strength and spirit to make a good cop.
          She puts the wallet away and he recalls something hitting the pavement. He looks back at the path and sees a pistol resting on the sidewalk.
          "A... A-a gun?" He asks weakly. Arin rubs the back of her neck and offers an awkward and slightly uncomfortable laugh.
          "Y-yeah... I was put on train duty today and I saw you leave the train without any baggage and, well, I thought it was kind of suspicious... And and then you were suspicious with the whole phone call thing so I followed you and then you had a... A panic attack or something and I knew in my heart you weren't dangerous and now we're here."

Welp yep

I haven't even finished the first chapter and I'm already at over 1500 words

Anyways yeah the current name is Ninth Life but I want to change it because that name was for a past story I had that I changed into Clauss' story

Blah anyways yeah I'm back, hah.

If you guys are interested in that I'm thinking about posting it here but I wouldn't be sticking to a schedule because if I did the writing would probably be even worse than it is

Anyways yeah tell me if you guys are interested and I'll try to get back to posting here but probably not as much because it's not as easy as posting on Tumblr or instagram

But yeah let me know what you think