Angsty paragraphs

False Hope

     "Father please! I'm sorry!" A bloody child knelt on the bloody marble floor as he clung onto the pants of the father before him. The man glared at the child mercilessly before kicking him away.

"Get out of my sight."

      It was the dead of night. Amidst the sleeping city, a child lay quietly lay awake in his bed. He stared up at the high ceiling blankly before deciding that he should try to sleep. The boy tossed and turned in his warm cozy bed, trying to fall asleep. No matter how much he tried to focus, the occasional footsteps belonging to the servants outside sounded abnormally loud. The contusions and wounds on his body was exceptionally excruciatingly painful to a numbing extent. Unconsciously, Henry brushed his fingers against his arm, feeling the uneven gashes imprinted in his skin.

It hurt. Yet, Henry doesn't feel much pain.
It was a familiar sensation to him, one that he had experienced many times in his short life.
His head hurts. Henry clutched his throbbing forehead, trying to make it stop. His throat was dry.
   The slight sting cause by his injuries was extremely uncomfortable.It was so hot. His head hurt. His wounds stung. It was suffocating.Henry wanted it to stop.A single teardrop trickled down the side of his face. The injuries on the boy would permanently serve as a reminder, a reminder that no one cared about him. The cuts and bruises on his arms were exposed for everyone to see, yet not a single person bothered to patch him up. Henry's hazy, unfocused eyes stared at himself in disdain.

     "Hurts..." Henry mumbled, curling himself up into a fetal position as he hugged himself tightly. His wounds were still bleeding and some of his bones were broken.Henry felt weak and vulnerable, he felt small and powerless. He felt helpless, he felt hopeless.The boy let out a soft whimper, trying his best to stop the tears from flowing.

Finding the stinging hard to ignore, Henry decided to stare at the polished marble floor to distract himself. Although the boy was staring at the floor blankly, millions of thoughts were racing through Henry's mind. He thought about why no one helped him. He thought about how no one loved him. He thought about the people that would rather have him dead. Henry thought about his father, about how his father would always yell at him and hit him.

     Why? Henry wanted to ask. Why do you treat me like this? What did he do wrong? Why was he blamed for his mother's death? Why does no one believe me? Even his family, the people he loved, hated him. They positively despised him.They blamed him for everything.
Henry felt his heart wrench at the thought of his family.
Why are you doing this? Henry wanted to cry out. I don't deserve this! I didn't do anything wrong.
They said they were his family. They said that they would stand beside him no matter what. They said they loved him. Yet, Henry had been wrong. They didn't love him. Never once did they love him.
Henry was so confused. So many questions ran through his head. He just didn't understand. Despite knowing that his family treated him with disdain, Henry still clung on to that small sliver of hope. Maybe one day, they would change their minds. Maybe one day, they would love him again. Henry wanted his family to be happy. He wanted to be a good boy. Henry wanted to do his best to make them proud. Henry clung onto this hope. He hoped every day, he prayed that his efforts would be recognised.
But it wasn't.
No one cared. Not a single person in the world cared.
Henry felt lost and alone. He felt betrayed and hurt. Henry felt scared. He was scared of his family. They never stood by his side.They never supported him. They never understood him. They would never help him.
The people he thought loved him, were actually people who hated him.
They never loved him. They would never love him.
Nevertheless, they gave him a decent room, they sent him to the royal academy, they gave him decent and edible food, and even assigned him a servant. Even if they belittled Henry and scolded him, even if they hurt him, they still took care of him. When Henry was being bullied in school, they tried to resolve the issue for Henry. Although Henry was neglected, he still had a roof over his head, food to eat, and clothes to wear.
But even though Henry knew that, his heart ached. He still felt betrayed.
In this cruel world, Henry had no one that stood on his side. Still, Henry wanted to believe. He wanted to believe in the fact that someone would show up one day and stay by his side. He hoped that someone would love him.
Henry felt like giving up, but he continued.
Maybe someday, things would get better.
Even this hope was false, even this hope was not real, Henry still clung onto it.
If he had nothing, he had this.
Henry couldn't help it, the tears kept flowing, his heart was wrenched.
He couldn't help it, no matter how hard he tried to stop it.
Henry felt pathetic. Instead of trying to get revenge or do something, he was lying in his bed, wallowing in self pity.
What is wrong with him? What is he doing?
Henry felt pathetic and worthless.
Why does no one love him?
Why can't anyone accept him?
Why can't he change himself?

Henry hugged himself tightly as the stinging of his wounds brought him back into reality. Right. In reality, there was no one. In reality, there was no such thing as love.
The more Henry thought, the worse he felt. The more Henry thought, the more desperate and miserable he became.
His father was right.
Henry was useless.
He was stupid.
Henry was a disappointment.
Henry was weak.
Henry was a failure.
He was nothing.
He was a loser.
Clinging to hope is futile. Everyone knew, and Henry knew.
There was no way things would get better.
Things were just going to get worse.
No one was coming.
No one will help him.
No one will protect him.
It's hopeless.
As Henry drifted off to sleep, the last of his tears slid down his tear-stained cheeks.
As cozy the bed was, Henry's numb body was unable to feel its comfort.