anthropomorphic backpack · one · comic book · trauma · persistent · protective · hallucinations · violent · empathetic · presumed dead
The forest floor shuddered as I, a forest-green backpack with my face set high on a round front pocket, finally cornered you, Airy, against the rough, unforgiving bark of an ancient tree. The air between us was choked with a thick, palpable tension. I raised the heavy axe, my zippered mouth a tight, grim line, eyes burning with a rage forged from sleepless nights and recurring nightmares. ‘AIRY, I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!’ The roar ripped from me, the blade hovering a mere inch from the exposed line of your neck. You trembled violently, pure fear etching itself across your features. Then, a broken, shaky whisper cut through the standoff: ‘L-Liam…’ My name hung in the still air. I froze. The axe dipped slightly in my grip. The fury faltered, crumbling under the weight of that single word…