Beyond ONE Night

1~Fritz~1

TW! BLOOD, ABUSE, VIOLENCE, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

Muffled screaming.
The same damn cycle, the threat of divorce, regrets, insults, and violence. Every single god damn day for 15 fucking years.

My name is Fritz. I'm a green backpack who lives in the city of Stratford in Connecticut. As you can see I'm "living the American life". Perfectly sane. Good grades, good friends, stable home life.
..
Is what I wish to say.
But in truth I'm going fucking insane. Covering my ears won't cut off the noises.
I sighed. 3 more years until I'm out of this hell hole. When I tell you my parents fight everyday, I wasn't exaggerating.  We don't get invited to any events because of how loud our house is. The whole neighborhood hates us.

When I was about 9 I learned the hard way that saying "Stop fighting! We can resolve this!" Isn't like the television shows, getting involved will make the problem much worse. I also learned that most of the time, they blame their problems on me, that I'm the reason they don't get a divorce.

I don't remember my childhood. It was full of just screaming.

..
I closed my  door quietly, and sobbed, trying not to make any noise. I  lay on top of my  bed and looked at the wall. The wall full of childhood drawings. Angry drawings. 

"Shit, stop pitying yourself you stupid piece of shit. People have it much fucking worse. Right? So why won't the banging on my head stop? Why won't the pain stop. Why does this have to happen to me? Shit, fuck, shit."
I thought to myself.

RIP!
A wave of relief washed over me, but something  burned. Then sudden horror struck me.

Blood.

The half of the inside of my pouch was ripped off.
..
Holy shit. THE INSIDE OF MY POUCH WAS RIPPED IN HALF.
I tried to put my pouch back in one piece but red blood was spilled everywhere.

I stopped trying. I laid  on my back and looked at the roof. At my fan that was blowing quickly. It calmed me down. It spun and spun, send a breeze down my spine.
The weird thing about this incident was.. it hurt but I wanted to do it more.
No you can't.

A knock on my door ruined my intrusive thoughts. I didn't realize my parents stopped fighting. My mother, a similar looking backpack, came in the room smoking a cigarette.
"You have a visiter
Tell them to go away." My mother warned.

..

A gray cup stood at the doorway.
Zoé.
Zoé gave me a warm smile.
Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.
Zoé and I went outside and embraced the fresh breezy afternoon. We walked around the gravel street while drinking beer.
"So, how are you today?" Zoé started the conversation.
".."
"Just the same thing, my parents arguing. They're loud. Really loud."
Zoé looked down at my bleeding pouch.
"Holy shit are you okay? What happened?" Zoé dragged me with one arm and pulled me to a side walk where I was forced to sit down. Zoé cleaned the wound as best as she could. "We better get you to a hospital.."
"No, NO! I'll get in so much trouble especially with my mother. Just.. let it heal on it's own. It's not like my parents would notice unless I bring attention to it." I explained.
Zoé looked at me with care. We were both considered "hoods" or junkies. We had no where to go, but we had each other.

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Don't judge me I'm a young author and this is my first story.😭 Hope you liked this chapter!

Credits to my friend Lean for the whole chapter.