Where ☹ Muke

V ; you pollute the room with a filthy tongue.

« clifford »

Slowly I trudged out of the room alongside Luke, not even a week here and I was already screwed -- and terrified.

Sure my parents had "changed" but the thing is I'm not for sure, but fights were one thing my mom couldn't handle. If I came home after a fight she would add to my bruises or cracked limbs and I'm scared, because she might just do it again.

"Hey man I'm sorry for calling you a faggot, I thought you were somebody else." Luke mumbled stopping to look at me with a sincere look and I almost forgave him.

"Who would that be, I mean you must hate them a hell of a lot if you call them something like that."

"Michael Clifford, this bastard that I used to know. The dude had a freaking crush on me, I mean that's so gross."

Bastard, he called me a bastard, just like my mom.

She came running towards me with her hands tightly grasping her greasy hair, she looked so mad as the tears trailed down her cheeks in a quick, rhythmic pattern. "It's your fault, I fucking hate you." She screamed stopping right in front of my seven year old body.

I stood still though on the inside I was shaking, I didn't understand why my mommy was so mad at me all I did was come home from school and show her my spelling test. "Why the hell were you born, if you weren't here we could be happy."

She inched closer so her hot breath was washing over me, it reeked of alcohol which confused me. My mommy never drank, only when she was sad. Why was mommy so sad?

"Mommy why are you sad?" I asked reaching forward to pull her into a hug.

She pushed me off of her making me stumble back and hit my hip on the counter, I cried out in pain grasping my side tightly. "Don't touch me you-you faggot!"

My eyes began to tingle and I knew I was bound to start crying, I just want my mommy to hold me in her arms and tell me everything would be okay but she was too busy making me cry to help me.

"I'm sorry mommy." I sobbed holding my hands out in front of me, she was really scaring me and I didn't want her to hurt me. She lunged towards me and I squeaked backing up into the refrigerator with my eyes clenched shut.

"Bastard, you fucking bastard!" She screamed and raised a hand.

She slapped me, she continued to slap me as she sobbed the same word over and over, "bastard." She cried as my cheek began to darken and swell with pain -- that was only the beginning.

I never liked him, I mean he was and is attractive but I've never had feelings towards him. It's always been platonic, hell he always helped me with my mothers spells, he saved me so many times before but now he's crossing the line -- he knows my mom called me names. Now he's becoming her, and that's not something I want to happen.

"Guess what, that bastard has a dad and doesn't like conceited assholes like you." I sneered starting to walk again. I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and flinched -- there wasn't anything there but I've always had a problem with physical contact, you could see why.

"-ft without a trace for six damn years? Where the hell did you go!" He threw so many questions at me that I felt my breathing quicken.

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"I uh was in New York." I didn't look at him, I was too embarrassed.

"To see your dad?"

I looked up to see his head cocked to the side with a confused expression laced on his features, he actually looked concerned and it made me feel I could trust him.

"N-no, I was in a," I dropped my gaze and lowered my voice, "um mental facility."

He was quiet as I studied my shoes awaiting his response, my breathing was shallow when he began to laugh -- like a menacing laugh, like my mom used to do before she'd drag me into the bedr--

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"I-I need A-Ash." I felt myself gasping for air as the boy laughed though it sounded hollow, distant. I began to stumbled back towards the classroom Ashton and I were headed to when my legs gave out and I crashed to the floor.

I curled my knees to my chest and sobbed, my vision was blurry and my body was shaking but I couldn't seem to get ahold of myself. I always hated when this happened because my mom would be too busy fucking some boytoy so Luke would help me.

I don't have him to help me now.

I guess history does repeat itself, just like a reoccurring nightmare.

« pov. change :: hemmings »

My laughter ceased as I watched his frail body rattle against the lockers.

He's having an attack again.

Wow I'm an asshole.

Okay all I've got to do is stroke his hair and whisper in his ear like old times, it's not that hard I used to do it all the time. But this time he's having a panic attack because of me, so how am I supposed to soothe him with the "it's okay I'm here now," or "Mikey calm down, I'm here for you, I've got you now."

I raced down the hallway to the literature classroom and racked my eyes over the room not caring that everybody in the room was watching me frantically look around the room while panting like a dog.

As soon as I spotted Ashton I ran to him and grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the classroom ignoring the teacher yelling at me to get my detention.

"Dude what the fuck?" He screeched pulling his arm from my right grasp.

"Mikey -- hate -- help -- panic -- attack."

Yeah that made a lot of sense.

He furrowed his eyebrows but nodded before following me down the hallway where Michael still lay shaking in a ball, he looked so broken. "What the hell did you do!" He screeched smacking me on the back of the head before running to Michael and pulling him into his arms which instantly began to calm him down.

I sighed looking at how Michael looked at Ashton with such admiration thinking, that used to be me.