Chasing Stars

chapter five * evif retpahc

Trigger warning for domestic violence and talk about suicide- suggested to skip chapter if triggered by such. or, skip ahead to the o.0.o

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ALEX'S P.O.V

I walked through the front door and the ritual of getting home commenced. I was late. I was supposed to cook the pasta for dad, so he could eat- only to throw up due to his drunken state. Punches flew and words were spat.

I took the hits, just standing there not paying attention to the pain coursing through my body. Jaw, nose, forehead punch after punch his fists rained down. Whats the point, he's never going to get better. He can't function without the drugs coursing through his veins.

For he needed the high to make it through the day.

To not kill someone.

But he didn't know I've been planning a murder.

I'm a murderer. And I'm the victim. I find myself dreaming of ways to go. Take the alcohol and get drunk, cut too deep, overdose. But that fucking Michael boy. He's holding me back now. He seems so full of hope, his eyes sparkle and I can see the innocence that had been shredded up in him, this fucking beautiful master piece. Yet so broken. The faded lines, the marks of self abuse. A tragic fairy tale.

It's like those pictures you see of these beautiful girls, but they're just broken. The way they took it or it was painted just made it seem broken. He seemed like such a nice person, behind all the shyness. But why? Why was this kid so sad, what happened to him to make him take this path. My thoughts were interrupted by dad, yelling from his chair in front of the tv.

"Alex I swear to god if my pasta isn't done!" I picked up my pace, silently begging for the pot to boil faster.

"Dad the water isn't boiling, please just wait..." I called out shakily, praying he understood the small gas stove didn't have the best heat.  But dad never understood he always skipped the patience straight to the abuse. I'd tried everything to get away, packed my bags and left, downed all my medication, opened my veins. I never could get away from him. I glanced at the pot and sighed, finally. "D-Dad the water's boiling that pasta will be done soon" I said sticking my head from the small kitchen into the living room seeing him passed out on the couch, at least I can make a sauce.

I walked back into the kitchen, wandering around searching for the cheap pre made pasta sauce in the cupboard. I hardly ever make pasta come to think of it. Dad always got impatient, never could wait for anything. He usually ended up heading to a club and bringing home some random girl, knocking her up.

I don't know whats happened. What happened to holding my hand walking me down the road to school, an encouraging pat on the shoulder before a "kill it kid". I don't know what happened it just seemed to disappear. He didn't care if I came home with a bust lip, or if I didn't come home at all.  

o.0.o

I walked up to the school, sighing before ducking my head and entering.

"Hey faggot you fucking that new shy kid" Jason walked up, sneering in my face.

"Hey fuck off you ass" someone yelled, I looked around frantically praying they just left and didn't get themselves beat up. As if on cue he turned and glared. At Michael. Jesus this kid, can't he just stay out of this I can deal with this I'm fine.

But then the heaviness set in. The impending anxiety weighing down on my chest. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe in. Breathe out.  It's okay. I can deal with this. Inhale. Exhale. Get air into your lungs Alex. It's fine, the anxiety is pointless. Get a fucking grip. You're acting like a girl.

Jason had pulled back, staring at me. He probably things I'm a freak what am I doing. Why can't I just be normal? I pulled my knees up to my chest, shaking- trying to get air into my lungs. Focussing on breathing whilst Michael slowly approach Jason. The idiot gonna get himself killed.

"I-I sai-said back off.... Ass" he muttered too fucking cute. Holding his hands up in surrender he attempted to step past Jason, "I-I just want to see if he-he's okay, uh-uhm h-he's having an an-anxiety attack" Michael peered around Jason, worried eyes. I attempted to send him a telepathic "I'm fine" but obviously I haven't mastered that yet.

After what had seemed to be at least 2 centuries Michael dropped to his knees beside me, raising a hand as if too ask if he could comfort me. I shakily nodded, before returning my head to my knees.

Breathe in, out, in and out.

Michael placed his hand on my shoulder rubbing small circles with his thumb. This is nice. After a few minuets he helped me up, patting my back before walking me out to the oval.

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