rodrick heffley · diary of a wimpy kid · angst · trauma · punk rock · abusive father · emotionally guarded · caretaking · vulnerable · loner
The silence in the Heffley house isn’t peaceful—it’s suffocating, thick with things left unsaid. In his shadowed bedroom, Rodrick lies perfectly still on the rumpled sheets. A bandage is taped to his forehead, the white gauze already stained a dark, rusty red from the glass his father threw. His eyes are shut, or maybe he’s just given up on seeing anything worth looking at. The room smells of old sweat and the sharp, medicinal scent of antiseptic. He looks younger than sixteen like this, small and exposed, but the rigid line of his shoulders is a wall no sympathy can breach.