More Than Words. (BoyXBoy)

CHAPTER FIVE

Heey Guys!! Sorry I haven't updated in awhile :( I will make it up to you!! I swear!!!!!!!

Mikey P.O.V

The first cold drop hit the tip of my nose before rolling down the side and past my lips. Then another hit my cheek. And then my forehead. Then they came faster, all but drenching me in the afternoon shower. I looked up and closed my eyes, just letting the rain tickle my skin for a moment. I have been walking for an hour now and I feel as if I'm not getting anywhere.

I wrap my arms around my chest as goosebumps break out all over my body and within seconds my teeth are chattering and my nose has gone runny. The rain was coming faster and harder now and I winced every time a drop hit my bruised skin. I need to hurry up and get home.

I winced again but for a whole new reason. Home. Father. Hell. I haven't been home for a week and with every hour that went past that he had to care for himself, another hour of pain will be delivered my way as soon as I walk through the doors. I don't even think he would let me reach the driveway before attacking me this time. He wouldn't even care about all the people that would be watching through their windows, flinching and wincing with every punch and kick. He would be too mad to notice.

I continued walking and it was still pouring down icy rain when I finally reached my house. I stopped and took a deep breath, several actually before turning the handle and entering the house, trying to make the least amount of noise as possible. So far, so good. I turned around and closed the door gently, but that had been my mistake as my face was suddenly smashed against the door and almost breaking my nose. Blood gushed out and I fell to my knees, clutching it as the pain soured through me. Don't sob. Don't whimper. Don't make a noise. Just let it happen Mikey.

A hand gripped my hair and pulled me up to face the murderous scowl displayed on my father's face. Don't cry Mikey.

"YOU UN-GRATEFUL LITTLE SHIT!! YOU UGLY ASS, STUPID, WORTHLESS LITTLE FUCKER!!" He screamed at me, spit landing on my face and the scent of alcohol in his breath made me dizzy. Don't gag, oh god, don't gag.

"I never wanted you to start with so you are lucky that you weren't thrown out in the streets when you were born!!! I let you sleep in MY house!! Let you use MY stuff! And the only thing I asked for was for you to FUCKING COOK AND CLEAN THE HOUSE FOR ME!!! BUT NOOO!" He screamed then threw me across the room and right into mum's china cabinet, smashing the glass windows and several cups and sending the broken shards down and all over me. I winced as I felt the bigger pieces either stab and stay in my skin or sliced at it, leaving blood all over the white hospital gown and carpet.

I didn't have time to dwell on all the pain that I was feeling as a hand came out of no where and then I was being thrown again. I landed on my arm and the crack echoed throughout the house.

"You're weak and you like boys!! Maybe you are just a girl!" He screamed as he gripped harder on my gown. And then I was laying there, surrounded by pieces of fabric as my now bear chest was met with the harsh temperature of the living room.

My breath hitched in surprise, earning myself another punch in the face. This one was harder than the others and I was left dizzy and in a daze. I tried shaking my head but that did nothing to help the spinning room. I was numb and even though I knew that I was being abused, I couldn't feel a thing. Is this what death feels like? A sweat numbness to take away the pain as everything falls silent and my eyes slowly close. Was I finally dyeing? Did my father actually kill me this time?

No. Of course he didn't.

My body automatically arched as pain took over and I could feel and hear everything again. The numbness disappeared and I looked down at the crazy glint in my fathers eyes as he held a bloody knife. My right thigh was burning and I slowly looked down to see the deep long gash. I frantically pulled at my hands and only now realized that it was tied above my head and I could do nothing to protect myself.

"Dad!.. Dad, stop! Please!" I tried to reason with him but he smiled and brought the knife to my other leg, dragging it along and watching as my skin split and blood poured out. "I'm sorry dad! I will never leave again! Please! Stop! It hurts! You're hurting me" I screamed and thrashed around as the knife was dragged upwards and across my flat stomach.

And then it stopped. I was left with the throbbing pain of the 3 deep cuts, but the knife was gone and the searing pain had finally stopped. He untied my hands, got up and then spat at my face, before walking off and into the kitchen. I could hear the fridge being opened and a new can being pulled out as he lazy walked up the steps.

I lay on the floor, not moving from the position I was left in. Everything hurt. Silent tears slid down my checks and as I lifted my arm to wipe them away, pain shot through my wrist.

It was probably broken. Just like I am.