Escape - Wilbur angst

Chapter 5 - Help

I'M GONNA SPEND SO MUCH TIME ON THIS CAUSE I WANT IT TO BE PERFECT. I'VE BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS ONE IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Also I'm learning to use my english keyboard and not Swedish one so yk. Help I'm gonna have a stroke. I'm going insane. I can't fucking find the questionmark, I swear it wasn't where I left it last time. Nvm I'm good. I gave up lol. I'm at it again.

- Bread

TWs

Mental and physical abuse, stabbing, cutting with knife (not selfharm), near character death.

"WHY WON'T YOU JUST FUCKING TALK!?" his father yelled. Wilbur knew he'd had enough of his son. He found it disrespectful that he didn't answer, didn't react to the punishments and didn't show interest in the little food he was given. It wasn't worth it, nothing was. Ever since he spent a night at Phil's he realised how miserable he actually was. 

Wilbur longed for Phil's warm and fatherly hugs, Techno's weird - but sweet - way to communicate and the houses' welcoming and calming atmosphere. Unlike his own, cold, grey and abusive house. 

Just looking around it screamed of his life. Glass scattered, specks of blood on the floor and walls. Wilbur hated it, he wanted to burn it to the ground with his parents in it. Parents. Such a great word used for such foul people. They didn't deserve it.

He snapped back from his mind as his father took his pocketknife out. "F-father, I- I'm sorry... Don't- I- please..." Wilbur knew what was going to happen, it wasn't the first time. His father just grinned, oh how he enjoyed this. To hear the worthless rag scream out in pure agony as he glides the blade along his skin.

Slowly, but surely, writing degrading words to remind Wilbur of how much he fucked up the adults lives. His father approached him, unfolding the knife as he kneeled in front of the shaking boy. "Now, William, where should we... engrave... this time?"

Wilbur sobbed. Yes, he had gotten used to the abuse over the years, but not the cutting. He had only gotten it twice before in his 10 years. Once, when he was 7 - he accidentally got into trouble at school, and when his mother got the call, she was pissed to say the least. That time his father wrote 'mistake'.

The next time he was 10, Wilbur accidentally dropped his plate and glass when his father yelled his name. As you can guess, both of them shattered. His father doubled it and wrote two words. 'Worthless' and 'weak'.

Now was going to be his third time, the scars were going to last forever, the ones from his first time only faded completely a couple of months ago. Sour pain would shoot throughout his body every time he made a move. He had to lock himself into the bathroom to change for each PE lesson and participating was a bitch.

His father laughed at his son's fear. "Well how about... something extremely fitting. Ungrateful, disgusting and hmm... maybe..? Fat? Despite not eating you just can't seem to keep a good weight." Wilbur felt sick at his words. He knew it, he knew how much of a disgusting fat brat he was. He knew it was the right decision to not listen to Phil. He didn't deserve food; he was useless if he was fat, and his parents were right about everything.

His scream echoed through the house as the first line was drawn. Warm crimson red blood seeped through the crack, tickling his skin all over again as it opened up to the cold glistening knife. Slowly but surely 'ungrateful' was written on his waist. His father moved onto his thigh starting the next word.

Wilbur did his best to zone out, and succeeded. Eventually his father moved on to his wrist. As he had written the letter 'F' and was going to start on 'A' something in Wilbur snapped. He couldn't take it anymore.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH! STOP!" he yelled. Good news, his father had indeed stopped, bad news, pure hatred glowed from the man. He hated this boy, he just wanted to kill him. 

And that was exactly what he was planning on doing.

He grabbed the knife, raised it above his head and struck it down. His father was drunk, so Wilbur was lucky. It hit his shoulder, silver digging into soft flesh. Wilbur wasn't thinking, his brain was acting on adrenaline only. Maybe that's why he didn't feel the burn in his shoulder, maybe that's why he had the strength to push his father away before he ran out of the house.

His mind was blank. He let his legs carry him, move his spent body wherever they pleased. He was beginning to feel lightheaded from his loss of blood. His body gave up and collapsed on the stairs leading up to a familiar house.

He frantically knocked on the door until he heard fast footsteps approaching it. He backed up slightly so that he wouldn't get hit by the door. It flew open and a concerned Phil looked down at him. He went pale at the sight.

In front of him stood his boy crying with greasy hair, a bruised face, bleeding shirt and his hand on his shoulder which was pouring blood. Wilbur was also skinnier than before, the poor thing looked half dead.

"Help me, Phil you have to help me, he- he's going to fucking kill me." his voice was panicked and forced. The elder couldn't speak, he just let him inside and yelled for Techno to call an ambulance to the house.

"M- mate, what the fuck, you- you have to come with me to the bathroom, please." Phil said as he speed walked to the bathroom downstairs. When they both entered, Phil asked Wilbur to take of his shirt. And he did, causing the other to loudly gasp. Phil grabbed an unused towel and pressed it against the wound.

Techno joined them, quickly informing that help was on the way. He looked at the younger, who looked worse than before. He wanted nothing more than to hug the boy, but he knew he couldn't, it would only distress him further. 

Sirens were heard from afar, quickly coming closer. Eventually there were three hard knocks on the door which Techno went to open. "Hello sir, you must be the one who called. Where is the injured?" Techno turned around and walked towards the bathroom, the workers following.

Phil was forced away from Wilbur who they put on a stretcher and into the ambulance. Phil was allowed to ride along, but Techno had to stay at home. The driver tried to ask him what had happened, but Phil simply explained that he didn't know, only that Wilbur showed up injured begging for help.

I FINALLY GOT TO WRITE MY CHAPTER YIPPIE. Disclaimer: I have no idea how it works with the ambulance and shi. Also Word is so done with me always writing gonna instead of going to.

SO WHAT DO YOU GUYS THINK????

- Bread