Lost

1

Levi's POV
*beep beep beep*

I open my heavy eyes, "fuck" I mumble to myself. I can already hear my parents fighting. I lay there while the alarm continues to beep. I have absolutely no fucking energy.

I don't want to deal with my dad's shit today. He exhausts me. I'm never enough. He complains about anything every chance he gets. My mom isn't any help either. It's not her fault though, she is constantly gaslit and manipulated by my piece of shit father.

Why doesn't she see it. He doesn't deserve a wonderful woman like her. Not to mention he fucking hits her with anything he can find. His excuse always is "if you'd listen and do what you're told I wouldn't have to hit you".

When I try to stand up for her. I just end up getting hit. I've tried to get cps involved but they're no help, they believe my dad. My mom takes his side on everything and make me look like I'm a crazy person. According to my dad I'm not his son, I'm a tendent. I'm the scum of the earth. Not worth living. I've tried to take my life on multiple occasions. He just tells me to try harder. That no body wants me here, not even my own mother.

I then snap out of my trance to a banging on the door.
"Open this door now faggot. I swear to fuck if I get a call from the school because you're late. I'm beating the living fuck out of you." He yells in a deep bellowing voice.
"John, stop it". I heard my moms meek voice say.
*SLAP*
"Shut your fat ass up woman. This faggot and waist of space does not deserve my respect, nor will he ever. Unless he's normal like the rest of us. And goddamit Levi turn off the fucking alarm before I come in there and bash your head open with it." He yells.

"Yes sir." I manage to slip out of my mouth. I get up slowly and turn it off. I fucking hate getting up for anything in general, I'm tired of living. I'm tired of living with my piece of shit father. I hate him and he hates me. He makes it a point to tell me everyday that he doesn't love me and that I ruined his life. How did I ruin his life? He chose to have me. I look at what time it is "6:34" my alarm shows. I have time to take a quick shower to wake up and maybe feel a bit better. I walk over to my closet and pick out my favorite shirt, an mcr shirt that I got from my mom. It's a bit big but I feel good in it, it hides my fat ass stomach.

I take the shirt off the hanger and throw it over my shoulder. I then walk over to my dresser, I pick out just a black pair jeans and grab a random pair of underwear. I throw both over my shoulder and walk to my bathroom. I place everything on my sink and shut my door. I look over to my scale, should I weigh my self? I'm just going to hurt my self even more. I contemplate for a bit.

"Fuck it." I say to myself. I take off everything and step on the scale, "105 lbs" it flashes. Tears start to build up, damn I'm a fucking cow. I don't deserve to eat. I deserve pain. I step off and look to the razor on my sink. I take out the blade and start cutting. "Fat" cut "faggot" cut "piece of shit" cut "worthless" cut. These words ring through my head as I cut. Blood is trickling down my arm. I place the blade of my sink and look for something to stop the blood. I look it the medicine cabinet, nothing. My drawers, nothing. Where the fuck are they. I get up and start to get dizzy. I try to walk it off but end up loosing my balance. I fall and hit my head off my toilet, and then everything goes black...
To be continued...