My Greatest Desire (ON HOLD)

Chapter Two: Once Is Not Enough

Trevor's POV
        No one deserves all the hardships they have to go through. No one can pick the family they're born into. No one should have to live in fear,  but I do. Fear is the one word that is a constant in my head. Fear I forgot something. Fear I'm not good enough. Fear of being hurt. I fear him, my Dad. 

        Ever since Mom walked out when I was five, he became a raging alchoholic. Beer, whiskey, vodka, moonshine, anything he could get his hands on satisfied him. The thing with him is anything can set him off. If the door is closed too loud, the faucet ran for too long, his drink isn't fixed in under a minuet, everything is doomed for Hell. He begins to rant and blames the stupidest things on me. The first time he hurt me was a week and a half after Mom left.        

         At five years old he requested I make him a sandwich. Doing the best I could I made one and I thought it was just fine, but he didn't. I brought it to him while he was watching TV. Without a word of thanks, he started to eat it. Then he began to cough and clutch for water. Running to the kitchen to retrieve water, I made it back before he turned purple. Many hacks and breaths latter, he yelled, "The fuck are you trying to do? KILL ME!?"

        Not a clue to what he was talking about, he slapped me across the face. I yelped and tears sprung to my eyes. I went to bed that night shaking in fear. Why did he hit me? Would he ever do it again? Knowing what he did was wrong, I wanted to tell, but what would happen to me?

Sam's POV
        No one should be hated. No one should be made fun of. No one should be looked down upon, but I am. Who in their right mind would purposefully hurt themselves? Obviously someone who hurts themselves, isn't in their right mind. They are struggling and afraid with no one there to help. Cutting is for attention, right? WRONG! Cutting is an escape from reality.

        Cutting is my release and a safe haven. In order to stay alive and be able to function properly, I crave the physical pain that dulls the abuse I receive from others. I had always been an awkward kid who was weird, a loner, and never fit in. Personally I hate what most people stand for, which will one day crumble under their feet, and when that day comes, I'll be the one on top looking down at their sorry existence.

     I've been bullied for my whole life so far, but the sad this is you get used to it. Granted it still stings every time, but it becomes a sort of routine. With no one there to help, I rely on my own hand and the blade. One slice of skin and red dots come to the surface, but one cut is never enough.

Alex's POV
     No one should have to live alone. No one should feel unloved. No one should be deserted, but I am. As Dad had told me, once I old enough to realize I had no one to hug and call "Mommy," that she died while I was being born. I could never understand, and still can't understand, why my being born would cause her to die. Shouldn't I have been the one to go, and not her? What purpose do I serve that is greater than the purpose of a Mother?

     My Dad was a good and just man so he took on the responsibility to raise me on his own. Thirteen years later, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. One night, after his longest shift of work, he happened to drive by the park and saw two people fighting. Due to his good nature, he tried to pull the two men apart and stop their fighting, but one of them pulled a gun, and shot Dad right in the chest.

     It was getting to be really late, Dad was supposed to be home an hour and a half before. Becoming anxious, I took my bike and rode his route to work from our house. As the park came into view, I saw his gold Honda in the lot. It wasn't like him to not tell me what he was doing, so a fear set deep into my bones.

     Going over to the car, no one was in the drivers seat. Just as I was about to get out my phone and call for help, I heard a low voice that seemed as if they were in pain. Running to the voice, I saw my Dad lying in a pool of blood by the swing set.

     All I could do was break down and cry. As soon as I gathered myself together, I called 911 for an ambulance. Before they arrived, it was too late. Dad was far away from just being gone. He'd gone solid cold like February air, and wasn't coming back.

     As for me, I was lost and could now say I was an orphan. That night I went home to an empty place. There was no more love or laughter that could be found drifting in the air. One good thing going for me was that Dad had money, a whole lot of it, but not enough. He also had a brother named Brad, who I called the next day. Brad arranged everything for me to come live with him and his boyfriend, Tom.

     I've been out in Cali with my two amazing uncles for three years now, but I'm so alone. Sure I'm normal enough and I'm going to school, but my world is quite dark. I just wish I could find one person who would help take away some of my pain.