𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 ； ℋℯ𝓃𝓅𝒶𝓉

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 5

⚠️ Tw: abuse, attempted su!c!d3 ⚠️

Henry Bowers pov:

I pretty much stomped home. I was tired of trying to pick sides to please people. If I pick Patrick, I betray my father. If I pick my father, I betray Patrick.

Patrick is always trying to get me to think about what I want. It's not that easy. His parents wouldn't care if he was gay. My dad would care if I was. I just can't win and I'm sick of it.

I walked through the door. I could clearly hear my dad shouting at me but I chose to ignore it. I walked straight to my room and slammed the door shut.

My dad however didn't like it when I ignored him. It always resulted in more anger and occasionally a belt. He opened the door to my room.

"If I'm talking to you what do you do?" He shouted.

"Listen."

"What do you say?"

"Sorry sir."

"You don't sound sorry."

"Oh my gosh, it's almost like I didn't mean it." I immediately regretted my words.

"DONT BE SMART WITH ME." He pulled off his belt and slapped me. I shielded my head with my arms.

"Take your shirt off." He demanded.

"What?"

"TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF."

I immediately done what he said. "Turn around." I turned around.

"Who gave you these hickeys?" He asked me. Shit, I forgot about those.

"Uh.."

"It was Hockstetter, wasn't it?" I shook my head.

"You faggot. I hope this'll teach you a lesson that I do not accepts that kind in my house."

"It wasn't-"

He hit the belt on my back. Every time it slapped, more screams would escape my mouth.

"I'm gonna do this until you stop crying, flinching, or screaming."

My back already hurt. Sometimes I would feel something running down my back, probably blood. He pushed me on to the floor so that I was kneeled on the floor with the top half of my body on my bed. He continued to slap my back and I continued to cry.

This went on for a while. It was impossible to stop screaming or crying because with every hit, the pain got worse.

Eventually he left me on the floor, blood smeared around my back. I cried. I'd grab something and throw it across my room in anger. My dad would laugh at me. He loved when I was mad because I struggled to find a way for him to not be mad at me.

I grabbed a switchblade from off my desk and held it under my jaw. I didn't want to live but I didn't want to die. I had nothing. No real friends, no loving family and no good grades.

I pressed the knife to my jaw until it was bleeding enough for me to feel something but not enough for it to be life threatening.

I could've gone to Patrick's house but I doubt he wanted to see me. I didn't really care what he thought. I wanted him with me even if it meant I had to apologise for what I said. I'd tell him how I felt. About how I felt trapped.

I didn't touch my back, instead I put a shirt on and hoped the blood wouldn't go through. I left my room.

"Where you going?"

"Patrick's house."

"No you are not."

"Yes I am."

"Get back inside."

I ran out of the house.

"You're gonna regret this tomorrow!"

I fell on the grass at the front of my house. I smacked my head on the ground and immediately began to feel dizzy. I got up and walked to Patrick's house.

I knocked on the door until he opened it. I fell on to him and hugged him tightly.

"Henry, you okay?" He put his arms around me.

I yelled when his arms touched my back. He let go and put his finger on my chin, lifting it up.

"Your dad?" He asked me, his thumb caressing my cheek.

I looked away from him. "Mhm."

He closed the door and took me to his room. I stood by the door as he gathered whatever medical stuff he could find.

Patrick sat on the bed with his legs out and I sat in between them.

"Can you lift up your shirt or take it off?"

I lifted up my shirt. His finger traced my wounds. I winced. "Can you not? This hurts."

"You want me to help you right?"

"Fuck you."

I bit my bottom lip. "I'm nearly done, you going back after?"

"Nah I'm staying."

"Okay."

After a few more antagonising minutes, Patrick finished.

We led on the bed together. He wasn't close to me. He was far on the other side of the bed.

"I'm sorry about earlier Patrick. I just- it's hard when you gotta pick between people. You know how much I hate my dad but he is my dad. I wanna kill him, but I can't. If I'm with you, I'm betraying my father. If I listen to my father, I'm betraying you."

"You've got a broken home, but it doesn't excuse your actions, Henry."

I looked at him. He was right. There was no excuse for my actions. Everything I do, I do upon myself.

"I've told you that if I'm with you I won't tell anyone, or make it obvious in school. Everything that happens will happens here or a place where nobody will see us. Quit making excuses for being a homophobe." He turned around so that his back was facing me.

"You aren't all innocent Patrick. Let's talk about you killing your brother, or lighting the losers locker on fire, hey what about your freezer?"

"Don't you fucking turn this on me. This is your problem, not mine. I'll tell everyone about your little secret. Who's gonna be the big king of the town then?"

That was it. I punched him. "I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!" I sat up and continued to hit him.

"Shh." He sat up and hugged me.

"Fuck you." I weakly punched him.

He put one hand at the back of my head and played with my hair. His other hand was around my waist. I hugged him back and cried into his shoulder.

"You're okay."

We stayed like that for a few minutes before he led me down in front of him and he led down behind me. He wrapped his arms around me and put his head against mine.