WARNING: this entire story contains MURDER, DEATH, SUICIDE, SUICIDAL FEELING/THOUGHTS, SUICIDE ATTEMPTS, DEPRESSION, SELF HARM, CHILD ABUSE, RAPE MENTION, SLURS,BLOOD,HOMOPHOBIA, ALCOHOL/DRUG ABUSE, CURSING, TRAUMA, LACK OF SELF WORTH, NEGLECT, DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERED EASILY!!!
pov. James Madison
I woke up this morning with blood and bruises covering my arms. Memories, still fresh in my mind. It was late Last night, mom hadn't gotten home from work yet and dad was getting more and more drunk, he had been an abusive alcoholic since I was only 12 years old.I tried to walk back upstairs from making dinner hoping that dad would just eat and then walk away. I was being too optimistic.When I got the bottom of the staircase about to go up to the safety of my room he grabbed my arm, nails digging in to my skin, drops of crimson began to drip down onto the floor.
"where do you think your going fag," he hissed into my ear, his breath reeking with alcohol.he always hated the fact that I was gay. he thought it was disgusting that a boy could find other boys attractive.his grip tightened around my wrist as he slammed my head into a wall shattering a picture frame. I felt blood beginning to spill out of the cut the broken glass left behind.
"Do you want to know what it would be like to have a boyfriend" he whispered into my ear. before I could respond he punched me hard in the chest.
"DO YOU!" he screamed bashing my head into the wall again making even more blood pour out of the cut.
"I'LL SHOW YOU HOW IT WOULD FEEL TO HAVE A BOYFRIEND" he yelled again punching at my arms and legs leaving ugly purple bruises till I was shaking from the pain. then he reached for the buckle of my pants and he-he... I came back to reality pushing those memories far back into my head.The pain I felt. The smile on is face as he did it. his laughs as I cried and begged him to stop.I felt sick to my stomach like I might puke. I got up and my legs trembled as I stepped I looked in my bedroom mirror horrified at the thing that stared back at me.
My arms were covered in dried blood and bruises worse than I Thought. my face had a small cut and a large black eye. The hair on one side was matted and tangled covered with dried blood and throbbed in pain. I was too afraid to take off my clothing , knowing it wouldn't be a pretty sight. I put on a large black hoodie to hide my arms. before walking over to the bathroom and taking a wet rag, I began to scrub the blood out of my hair as best as I could before combing it back to normal. I looked my head closer only to find a large gash. I let out a small shutter and reached into the bottom cabinet taking out my mother's concealer and applying it to my face as best as I could.I grabbed my backpack and walked down stairs. my breath caught in my throat when I saw what awaited me. My father was sleeping on the couch with a half broken bottle in his hand, blood, glass and vomit covering the floor. My mother was nowhere in sight and I began to worry for her safety. I crept past the couch trying to be as quiet as possible.
I let out a small squeak of fear as my dad rose up off the couch bottle still in hand. he turned around stumbling a little.I tried to run but he grabbed my arms.
"where's breakfast fag" he said his grip tightening.
He led me over to the kitchen pulling me towards the stove. He turned on the burner and pulled me toward it pulling my sleeve up.No,No,No! my thoughts became panicked and crowded as my arm got closer to the flames. I screamed in pain as they made contact with hot flames burning at my flesh. My father let out a laugh before punching me hard in the chest sending me falling backwards.I got up off the ground as he fired insults at me grabbing at me again. I moved lightning fast. sprinting towards the door and running down the streets toward the school not stopping till I got there.
I looked at my cracked, slightly broken, watch. 7:45 a.m it read. I still had fifteen minutes till the doors opened. I sat there for another ten minutes before a magenta car pulled up.Out stepped my best friend Thomas Jefferson. we had been friends since kindergarten. we both got along perfectly despite our very different interests... and yet I still never told him about what my father did to me, The pain I suffered through, The now nightly beatings I received.
