𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 - 𝐨𝐛𝐱 ✔

sweatshirt

one-shots 

age: 9

"You worthless piece of shit," he sneered, "I never wanted a fucking girl."

His calloused hands gripped my neck, slowly squeezing until I couldn't breathe. I could only pray that JJ would save me like he always did.

"I just wanna fucking kill you."

My legs kicked out, hitting him square in the chest, forcing him to drop me on the floor. I gasped, feeling my heart beat out of my body.

"You bitch," he slurred, taking another sip from his beer, smashing it on the floor. He raised his hand in the air and struck my cheek. I felt it tingle and throb, watching my father fall onto the couch.

I quietly stumbled away, opening the door to my tiny room, shutting it. I crawled into the small closet, feeling the only bit of safety I had since JJ left this morning. I felt my eyes slowly shut, feeling darkness consume me.

Until I felt a pair of hands wrap around me, and lay me on something soft. I definitely wasn't in my room anymore, the familiar scent of weed was embedded in the sheets. I didn't care, because I knew who was there right next to me.

I cracked my eyes open, seeing the face of my brother.

"Do you just watch me like that?" I giggled.

"What? I thought I was supposed to watch over you," he replied.

"Well not like that," I rolled my eyes.

"Stop rolling your eyes. They're going to fall into your head."

"I may be 7 years younger but I'm not dumb like you."

He gasped, placing a hand on his chest, "Izabelle, that was not very nice."

His smile suddenly faded when he looked closer at me. "Is that new?"

I looked down, sheepishly, "Maybe."

"Z, tell the truth."

"Yeah."

"What else did he do?" JJ pushed, a stern tone etched in his usually-soft voice.

"Nothing, J, I'm tired a-" I was cut off.

"Izabelle," He warned, turning the lamp on. "What else did he do?"

"Nothing," I lied, only wanting to sleep.

"Then take off the sweatshirt."

"I'm cold, J."

"It's so fucking hot in here."

"N-no it's not. It's so cold," I replied.

"Take it off. Technically it's mine too, so.."

I looked at the floor, I should've just worn my own sweatshirt. I avoided eye contact, tugging at the sleeves, lifting it off my frail body.

I hated my arms and neck exposed, I felt disgusting. I felt tears sting my eyes as I saw him staring at the handprints on my neck.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you. It's my fault."

"No it's not, J."

I saw the guilt written out on his face, watching him pull the sweatshirt over my head and laying me down.

"G'night Z."

"Night J."

"You know that I love you?"

"Yes J. I love you too."