Fixing Broken Hearts

1

Amazing cover by: mag3ru

Warnings:
-Mentions physical (child) abuse
-Emotional abuse

Clay's POV

The washcloth sucked up the cold water streaming down, turning into a darker shade of blue. I raised my gaze and turned my eyes to the mirror in front of me, the bruise on the skin around my eyebrow.

I lifted my hand to my face to press the cold washcloth against it. The pain turned into a sharp one that made me wince and cramp my muscles from the sudden shooting pain.

'Calm down, Thomas. He is a teenager, he doesn't know how important school actually is. I will talk to him, okay?'

My mother's voice sounded soothing, but I knew that would change as soon as her foot would enter the bathroom. I knew she was afraid of him, just like my brother, but them always picking my father's side drove me insane and made me feel awfully alone.

The stabbing pain was slowly decreasing the longer I cooled it, but unfortunately I was aware of the timelines of these bruises. Tomorrow would be awful, but the day after was the worst. Then the stiffness turned into a purplish bruise that made me jump if someone touched it.

'I wish we would have never gotten him,' my father said with a cold voice. 'I wish he was dead...'

I swallowed and turned my eyes to the floor, the tiles feeling cold below my bare feet. Drawing attention to anything, but the words my father used, was my only distraction when he kept speaking about me this way and from experience, I was aware this would be able to last for hours.

'He messes up a lot, but inside he's a good kid,' my mother defended me, but I would have rather had her stay out of it. She didn't realise that her words hurt as well, she didn't even want to see she was taking his side and neglected me because of it.

'He's a failure, June. Do you even understand how much he causes our family to suffer? He always has to mess up anything he does, even breathing seems too difficult to do in a normal way for him.'

I wanted to stay strong and never show any of my emotions, but no matter how hard I tried, the tears were slowly filling up the brim of my eyes. I felt a jittery feeling in my bottom lip and cleared my throat, the loneliness eating me alive.

Just as a tear rolled down my cheeks, the bathroom door opened. I gasped and stepped back, accidentally dropping the washcloth on the floor. I looked up at my mother, who sighed as soon as she saw the "mess" I made.

'You're not making it easy for your father to not get angry at you, Clay. This clumsy behaviour isn't acceptable and you should try a lot harder to make yourself loved. You know that, right?'

I stayed quiet and leaned forward to pick up the washcloth. 'I'll grab a towel to clean the floor,' I replied and stared at the few water drops that made me a failure again.

'You better hurry, your father might get upstairs soon and if he realises you've messed up again, I'm afraid you'll get a lot worse.'

She closed the door behind her and walked to my brother's room. 'Elliot, you did amazing on your last test. I'm really proud of you, you're an example for your brother.'

I pushed my back against the wall and slowly slid down it, squeezing my hands to fists to feel something else than the crushing pain in my chest. My mother closed Elliot's door and left the upstairs area to go back to my father, just to feed him in his hate towards me.

Eventually, I couldn't hold back the tears anymore and sniffed. The soreness of my nose was annoying me, mostly because I couldn't wipe it to make my nose feel less blocked or drippy. Hopelessly, I pressed a napkin lightly against it to stop it from dripping.

'Did you talk to the failure of our family?' my father asked as soon as my mother got back downstairs. 'June, I just can't deal with his behaviour anymore. He's driving me insane...'

I curled up, all the bruises on chest stinging by the slightest movement. I did nothing and he just got angry at me because I got a C, one I was proud of. I was awful at maths and studied a lot to make him proud, but guess what happened...

A soft sob escaped my mouth. I felt paralysed by sadness and pierced my shins with my nails. I started to feel anger because of how I was treated and in a wave of hopelessness, I slammed my fist against the stone tile wall.

'Clay!' Elliot suddenly exclaimed. He opened the door and glanced at me on the floor, locking the door behind us. 'Come here.'

He sat down on the floor and pulled me closer to him, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. Carefully, I rested my cheekbone, that wasn't bruised, on his shoulder as tears rolled down onto his shirt.

'I'm proud of the C you got for maths,' he said with a cheery voice. 'You outdid yourself, dude!'

'Are you actually?' I whispered, looking up to him. 'Or are you just saying that so I'll shut up and you won't have to deal with more screaming?'

'I mean it,' he replied, cupping my face. He gently ran his thumb over my bruised cheek and sighed deeply. 'I wish I could do something...'

'It's fine,' I lied, because deep inside, I wished every single day someone would do anything to help me and get me out of here. I was aware of him being younger than I was, but felt so hopeless that I fled in certain things I hadn't told anyone about, and was planning to never tell anyone about.

'Is it okay if I take a shower?' Elliot asked. 'Unless you have to stay here for longer, then I'll do it tonight.'

'No, go ahead,' I stumbled, but I hoped he would have realised how much I needed him right now.

I didn't say anything and unlocked the door, slipping through it to go to my room before anyone else could get to me. Luckily, my father was too busy grumbling about me at my mother, which gave me the time to barricade the door to my room so no one would be able to enter for the upcoming hours.

I sat down on my bed and cleared my throat, the pain becoming more unbearable than I could deal with. In a last attempt to find some happiness, I walked to my nightstand and pushed it aside.

I pushed my nails in a crack in the wall and pulled out the loose piece away. I had once discovered a crack after my dad threw something at the wall and spent a lot of time trying to pull it out. Once I did, I created a secret hole in my wall that no one knew about and put my most precious things in there.

I dropped the piece on the ground and looked inside. I sighed and reached out my hand, grabbing the little box. Slowly, I took off the lid and stared at the needle and bottle with a clear liquid inside.

My mother and Elliot knew about the abuse, but there was no one who had knowledge about my heroin usage and I would do anything to keep it that way...

1256 words