The Chance of Freedom (REWRITTEN!)

I'm a deceased playing victim

Looking back at the burns and scars across his arms and legs, Zynair can't help but to feel disgusted. Every time he looks in the mirror, all he can see is a pathetic boy who couldn't even stand up to protect himself. There's no human being that would protect someone like him. It'll make them look pathetic as well.

Feeling the tears coming up and about to roll down his face, he quickly wiped it off but hissed at the pain in his cheek. He had forgotten that he got hit by his father, who was pretty drunk. Closing the door behind him, he climbed onto his bed and laid down, staring at the ceiling. He listened carefully for footsteps outside his door, for he doesn't feel safe.

It's his house, why doesn't he feel safe? Heavy footsteps began to walk towards his room and Zynair hid underneath his blanket, to make sure that he looked like he's asleep. "Oh Zynair," a low drunk voice echoed throughout his room and Zynair can't help but to shiver in fear. Please, let's not do this today.

"So we're playing hide and seek now, huh?" his father walked around his small room until he reached his bed. Zynair can feel his father's movements as he grows closer. Heavy breathing came closer as the sheet was slowly pulled back, "Aw, is little Zynair hiding from his father again?" he mockingly said and harshly pulled the sheet back, letting Zynair be welcomed by the cold air.

He sat up, pushing himself back so that he wouldn't be as close to him. "P- Please..." he begged, "Let's not d-do this right now..." His father didn't listen as he crawled closer to him. His face was much closer to the other's as Zynair could now feel his father's heavy breathing. He smells like alcohol. His father's hands are now on top of Zynair's shoulders and his face is now closer to his, "You're so pretty, Zynair." He whispered and Zynair looked away. He could feel his tears rolling down his cheeks, when did he start crying? It wasn't even happening yet.

His father wiped away his tears and could now feel his hands inside his shirt, his hands exploring his bare skin. Tears began to fall once again and Zynair couldn't escape, "You're still pretty even though you're crying, Zynair." His father whispered into his ear, "Just like your mother."

Ever since his mother died, his father decided that alcohol would help him through his grief but it only made things worse. It all started when he was 10 and he just got home from school. He entered his home as usual and found his father sitting down on the chair, drinking a funny looking bottle with a strange yet awful smell of water. At first, Zynair thought that his father wouldn't be able to notice him but the old hag did.

He looked at him, straight to his eyes, "Zynair!" He called out to the boy, "Come over here." Zynair wanted to go up to his room but he can't since he doesn't want him to get mad. He followed his orders and walked up to him. His father picked him up and placed him on his lap, facing him, "I've been thinking." His father said as he played with the boy's hair, "You really do look like your mother, didn't you know that?"

Is this what drunk people look and sound like? He remembered the time his mother argued with his father, yelling that he's drunk. He didn't listen to the conversation any further. He could feel his father's hands rubbing his thighs and Zynair can't help but to feel weird about it, "How about we use that cute face of yours?"

Zynair doesn't want to remember the rest. He blacked out soon after.

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Slowly opening his eyes, Zynair sat up and looked around. His father was beside him and didn't have his clothes on. He looked underneath the blanket and already knew what happened to him. Not letting his tears roll down his cheeks, he got out of the bed, picked up his clothes that were scattered on the floor, and walked out of his room. He entered the bathroom then looked up at the mirror and saw so many bruises forming in his neck. He frowned, "Why does he keep on doing this?" He asked himself as he washed his face.

The question is, why did you let it happen?

Hearing the disoriented voice inside his head, he knows that it's back. Opening the medicine cabinet, taking a pill out of its storage, and gulping it all down his throat. He drank the water from the sink and wiped his mouth. God he's so pathetic and miserable.

Walking out the bathroom and going downstairs, he could smell the lingering smell of alcohol and sweat coming from the kitchen. He frowned and peeked through the door frame to see his father on the table with his head down and wasn't wearing a shirt. This gave Zynair a chance to escape.

To get away from the house that kept him locked in for so long.