Battered&Bruised

Chapter One : Deep Dive

Haii. Thank you for reading this book! Ill try to update asap. There is a TW on this chapter for Violence and Homophobia but I don't think its that heavy of a chapter. I have also added a list of Trigger Warnings to the story description. It does end on a cliff-hanger so hehe sorry not sorry!

Callum's POV:

I'm really not a fan of people. Or I should say that people aren't really a fan of me. I guess I can't really blame them as I know I am a bit of a special child. My parents always referred to me as a miscellaneous boy. I never knew what I wanted until it was in my lap or handed to me. Since I was little I never really liked people. I wasn't a social butterfly and never really had any friends. Not any that actually wanted to be my friend in the first place. But I'll get into that later because that's a long story.

My childhood was definitely out of the ordinary considering the events I had to go through at such a young age. I was super close with my mom and my dad but my mom was by far my favourite parent. Dont tell my dad I said that though. I loved my grandparents to the moon and back. I only ever met my dad's side and I was never sure why. They would always come over for a BBQ on Saturday evenings after my dad finished work. They would take me home with them once everything was finished and I would stay there for the rest of the weekend before school. I would always have a caramel DairyMilk chocolate bar waiting for me in the fridge. I always ate it while watching an episode of spongebob. Don't judge me, I was only eight.

These are memories I hold very close. I don't really tell anyone about my life or what has happened to me. What I've been through. I don't remember much about my life when I was younger. At the age of eight was where I remember and even those memories are scattered. I remember one Saturday my grandparents didn't come over. They called my mom to tell her they wouldn't be making it because my grandpa was sick. I asked if I could go and see him but was very swiftly declined. It was at that moment I knew something was wrong. An hour or so passed when my mom got a second phone call informing her that my grandpa had passed away. I couldn't hear the conversation very well but I knew that it wasn't good news. It wasn't until my mother came down to my eye level and held my shoulders that I knew something bad happened. Her eyes were so dull and sad. She pulled me into one of her 'bear hugs' as I fell to my knees and I started tearing up.

It wasn't long after that my dad walked through the door, looking exhausted from a long day at work. His face instantly dropped as he saw my mom's tear stained face and my puffy eyes. I hid my head tucked under my mom's arm as her hand was on my head, playing with my hair. He looked at her and their eyes connected. His eyes filled with tears like mine hours earlier. Even though this set of grandparents isn't my mothers parents she cared for them deeply. My dad didnt see eye to eye with them all the time but he loved them like they did him. I remember details of my grandpa's funeral but again it was a big blur. I remember that the funeral took place in June but apart from that the details are very fuzzy.

The months following were very hard from what I can remember. We lost my grandma in early February the following year so it was a very short time between both deaths. I was only nine by the time I lost both of them. They gave me so much before their time was up. I felt extremely upset that I wasn't able to repay their kindness before they passed which in turn made me feel extremely guilty at the time.

The loss of his parents made my father turn to alcohol for reassurance. After my eleventh birthday he used to drink daily. The memories started coming back together after that. Me and my mom would just leave him to it and watch a movie in her room if he was downstairs drinking. He would sometimes go out with his 'drinking buddies' as my mom would call them. Normally if he went out he wouldn't come home that night. I always thought it was because he would stay on one of his friends' couches. But looking back now it was either that he forgot his way home because of the amount he had drunk, or he was cheating on my mom with some dodgy side piece. Which made me very mad. Once I found out that he cheated, I started calling him father instead of dad. It just felt right to me that way.