Bar Red's Redemption (Edited)

7: A Glass Monster

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." ―Friedrich Nietzsche

Hey guys! This is a good one for new, but sad, content. It's just under 3k, I hope you all enjoy and don't forget to comment. Stay safe!

Chapter 7:
A Glass Monster

Most of the time, Bar felt like he was a monster made out of glass.

Stained glass with fogged splotches and harsh edges, a monster with cracks where its heart should be. People see the red over his surface and they assume—they assume but don't know, can't know the truth—that it's his fault he has become nothing short of savage.

They don't look past the surface, they don't even try to see where and when and how he has become a monster.

They don't guess that it is not something he wants, that it is not something he chooses, but something he was taught, something that was passed down to him from his father's veins.

He is a monster, yes, but he is a monster made out of glass.

And he is terrified—so terrified sometimes that it feels like his bones are shaking—of someone looking right through him, of someone seeing what he's really made out of.

He's made out of fear.

It is all he knows, it is all he is taught.

Growing up in an abusive household has made him learn many things.

First and foremost, safety does not mean safety; safety means safe for the moment, safety means temporary freedom and nothing else. There is always danger around the corner, always.

Second, kindness comes at a cost.

Compliments are warning—always a warning, always anything but sincere—but are rare regardless. They are used as a weapon, as a way to manipulate him, used as an excuse, used as a reason to tell himself It's not too bad if my father can still be kind.

He was taught how to punch someone and where it hurts most to be hit from experience. He was taught that when someone gets punched in the nose, their eyes will always water regardless of how much it hurts. He was taught how to be cruel.

He was taught how to take that pain and turn it into anger.

Then he was taught how to sharpen that anger against his knuckles, against his tongue. He hurt people to escape his own pain and hated himself more because of it.

His father taught how to be a monster, then he insulted him for becoming one.

It wasn't fair.

Nothing about it was fair.

But it was familiar, it was his childhood.

At seven, he no longer tried to protect himself. He no longer tried to act like he was unbreakable and started to act like the big brother he became. He learned early that some kids learn how to survive before they learn how to spell and that he was one of them. That he refused to allow his new little sister to be, too.

At ten, he stopped caring about school and good grades. He learned that life is cruel to those who have nothing to give back to it.

At thirteen, he learned what it felt like to no longer want to live for the first time. It was the start of three attempts and the aftermath was always more heart wrenching than the act itself.