═══ 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛 ═══

I

He had no time to process the impending doom he felt circulate inside, he was not ready for such a quick change of pace, even though it wasn't as drastic, it was still far too immediate for someone to simply move on in such a forward manner, especially marriage. He wanted to stick a pitchfork so far up his father's ass at this very moment and cover him in gasoline.

There were so many things he wanted to put this man through, but he was in no shape to do so. But he will. . . one day.

"Right well, what cathouse did you get this one?" Billy spat, earning a hard slap in the face, leaving a thick red hand mark, an audible ring ripping through his eardrums, causing him to wince only slightly. It hurts, but the pain becomes tolerable after a while. It became far too manageable.

"Don't ever speak to me like that again, do you hear me?" He said with a bold tone. Billy fought every fiber in his bones to not fight back, but he was too small to endure the weight of a slimy old man at this rate. He knew well that karma would bounce back tenfold. "Yes." He spoke.
"Louder," his father demanded.
"YES," Billy yelled, his lungs nearly hoarse due to the rapid change of his voice; puberty wasn't easy, especially since his father never actually educated him on such things. He simply learned and adapted to it.

"Good, now take that bag upstairs, you aren't going nowhere tonight. They will be here any moment now. So, get dressed in a more representable fit," he turned Billy around, pushing him up the stairs before he could even manage to say anything else. It was best that way, he'd probably end up outside or something.

Billy did just that, replacing his beat-up comfort shirt Richie had given him that night where he was left behind, into a fresh pair of dark blue denims, a solid white tank top that was hidden under a dark blue dress shirt, rolled up above his elbows, his curled locks draping past his ears as he sighed, looking into his mirror. "I miss you," he whispered, his lungs clenching his hands until they were white. "But I hate you." He said, eyes flat, dull.
He completely chewed that soft nature to dust, turning his attention to the side of his doorknob, eyeing the little bit of light that pulled through from the hall light. The sheer hope for familiar footsteps to come walking into his room and give him the comfort he deserved was buried by utter hatred.

He felt his entire body sink, as if his body practically died or ran out of battery; he was burnt out and lacked any interest to meet whoever it was that made his own father smile more than him. How dare this person make him smile, how dare this person take away the only thing he ever wanted to see himself. How- his thoughts became whispers, adjusting his attention to little hands that rested just at their sides, his own fathers placed comfortably against the girls shoulders. They seemed happy, but he could see the distinct discomfort in the girl's eyes. He too, felt that way, but he was clouded by rage and envy. "This is your sister Max," his father implied, pushing the girl forward.

"Max was it?" Billy leaned inward, casting a dark aroma around them, it was evident he wasn't pleased. Nor was he welcoming.
"Yes. . ." Max spoke softly, he could tell she was nervous but kept a firm bold expression that said she wasn't going to be hindered by him. That in itself set a long-term challenge. Something he was far too eager to break.

Not a moment longer a women came tumbling through with a load of suitcases, a few tumbling down with a few rich 'fucks,' coming out. Billy arched a brow, holding back a laugh before he realized it was clear now. This was the woman his father had been cheating with behind his mother's back. 'Seriously, a red head?' is all he could think. What was that saying? Gingers don't have souls, that's it. That's the saying. "Oh dear, let me get that for you!" Said his father; oh and his name is Neil. There isn't much reason to continue with the idea of this man being even remotely fatherly. So let's simplify it by his actual name and not refer him as father or dad.

Billy knew this wasn't going to last long, maybe a year or a two, maybe even after their honeymoon. Either way, his father wasn't one for commitment on any level. In fact, if he could have as many women as possible and get away with it, he would. So long as he doesn't have to take care of the kids. He was a narcissistic manipulative piece of shit and nobody until it is too late can see through it. He played, and he hated to admit it, a good game. Though there'd been a few slips in between, hence why his mother left and started to fight back.

"Ah yes please, they are quite heavy. I packed all I could before our landlord came by," he implied. Either she didn't pay the full rent and decided to run, or— well there isn't much else to say other than that. She seemed like a beautiful soul; in fact, she was probably only trying to survive, thrown into a world like this with the only value you have is through selling yourself or getting into illegal shenanigans.

"Billy come help your mother please!" Every moment he spoke was sham, a new mold he had built that was sure enough going to break. This was merely a mockery.

This was going to be a long new year. Neither of them was nearly ready to deal with what would soon to come.