ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜɴᴛ|ʜ.ꜱ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄ

26*

SUICIDE HOTLINE:
800-273-8255

DRUG&ALCOHOL HOTLINE:
1-800-662-4357

SEXUAL ASSAULT HOTLINE:
1-800-656-4673

                      Trigger Warnings:
  Suicide, Drug abuse

(a/n: the song 23 by miley cyrus will be mentioned, you can play it at anytime before or after the chapter. it's not important to listen to.)

Harry

flashback 13 years ago

"mummy, what are you doing? where's daddy?" i ask innocently, never understanding the complex things adults do. i'm only 10.

"mummy is bu-busy—harry, go to yo-our room," her words were slurred. she points at me, shaking her head but her eyes stuttered to follow her head.

"did daddy do something again?"

she bursts out in laughter, shaking her head, "your father-er is a disgusting asshole who deserves to-tooo rot in hell."

tears weld in my eyes, here my mum speak about my father like that breaks my heart. just wish we could just hold each other.

"no he's not, he takes care of me—"

"i take care of you! not that fucking scum bag! ever grow-ow up to be like him and-an you'll be getting kicked onto the streets just like him."

"but i'm your son, mummy."

she nods with a look of disgust, "a son who looks just like the man who ruined my life."

i wanted to cry, i wanted to shout and tell her that i hated her. i hated her for throwing out my dad, for blaming me for her horrible life and for many unspeakable things. i hated her.

"now," she piles and lines up the fine white powder, "go to your room. mummy has plans and you cannot get in the way, do you hear me harry? do not. get. in. the way," she plugs one nostril and with one swift swoop, one line gone.

after hours of sitting in my room, sketching and writing little stories in my journal, i heard the front door slam shut and screams instantly arose.

i press my ear against the wooden door, trying to get a clear listen of whatever was happening downstairs.

"for fucks sake julia! if you're going to fuck a man that you picked off the streets, could you not do it where we eat?!"

"jesus oscar! i told you to get your shit and leave!" my mouth screeches. the sound of things tumbling over and breaking followed along with her stomping around.

"i told you i'm not leaving! i pay for this house with my job and if anyone were to get kicked out, it's you and the men you bring around!"

"oh as if you don't fuck every woman in that drug business of yours! it's not job if it's illegal," their voices were booming through the house, louder and louder and louder.

"it's a job that puts clothes on your back, food in your stomach, a roof over your head and feeds your raging addiction!"