My Sunflower(Elio Story)

💛🌻Chapter 6: The Depths of Despair💛🌻

Trigger Warning ⚠️ : This chapter contains graphic depictions of physical abuse, self-harm, and bullying. Reader discretion is advised.

The days passed in a grim procession, each one a new chapter of torment etched into my skin and soul. The bruises from the last encounter had barely begun to fade when my father's ire surfaced once more, fiercer than ever. His rage was a ceaseless storm, and I was caught in its unending fury.

It was a frigid night when the next wave of his wrath descended. I sat in my room, the darkness thick and suffocating, a blanket of despair that offered no warmth. The fireplace in the living room crackled, casting flickering shadows against the walls. The heat from the flames did little to thaw the chill in my heart.

My father's approach was heralded by the sound of heavy boots and the clinking of metal. The door swung open, and he stood there, silhouetted by the dim light, holding a metal rod with a glowing, fiery tip. The sight of it sent a wave of nausea through me, my body tensing in anticipation of the coming pain.

"Elio," he snarled, his voice dripping with malice. "It's time you learned a real lesson."

I didn't move, couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me, rooting me to the spot. He advanced slowly, savoring each step as if it were part of some twisted ritual. The rod in his hand was an extension of his cruelty, the heat emanating from it a prelude to the agony it promised.

Without warning, he grabbed me by the collar, yanking me to my feet with brutal force. I gasped, the movement sending a jolt of pain through my bruised body. He dragged me out of my room and down the hallway, my feet barely touching the ground. The descent to the basement was a blur, my mind reeling with fear.

The basement was cold and unwelcoming, a place of shadows and silence. The fireplace in the corner crackled ominously, its flames casting eerie patterns on the walls. The heat from the fire was a stark contrast to the icy dread that settled in my bones.

He shoved me to the ground, the cold stone floor biting into my skin. I looked up at him, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum of doom. He held the metal rod aloft, the tip glowing with a menacing light.

"Take off your shirt," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

My hands shook as I fumbled with the buttons, each movement feeling like a betrayal. The shirt fell to the floor, and I stood there, exposed and vulnerable under his merciless gaze. The cold air bit at my skin, but it was nothing compared to the fear that clawed at my insides.

"Turn around," he ordered.

I obeyed, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The heat from the fireplace seemed to intensify, the flames mocking my impending suffering.

The first touch of the heated rod was a searing brand, an explosion of pain that stole my breath. I cried out, unable to contain the agony as the metal burned into my flesh. The smell of scorched skin filled the room, a nauseating reminder of my father's brutality.

Again and again, he pressed the rod against my back, each burn a new testament to his cruelty. I lost count of the strikes, the pain blending into one continuous wave of torment. My screams echoed through the basement, a symphony of suffering that seemed to please him.

"You'll remember this," he growled, his voice a distant roar through the haze of pain.

Each burn felt like an eternity, the heat searing through my skin and into my very soul. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with sweat and blood. I bit down on my lip, the taste of iron sharp against my tongue, desperate to hold on to some shred of defiance.

When he finally stepped back, the rod clattered to the floor with a dull thud. I collapsed onto the cold, hard ground, my body trembling with exhaustion and pain. The burns throbbed in time with my heartbeat, a cruel reminder of my father's lesson.

He left me there, broken and bleeding, the basement door slamming shut behind him. The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with the scent of burnt flesh and despair. I lay there, too weak to move, my mind a fog of agony and hopelessness.

Hours passed, or perhaps only minutes-it was impossible to tell. Slowly, I dragged myself to my feet, every movement a fresh wave of pain. I stumbled to the bathroom, the mirror reflecting a nightmare of scorched skin and tear-streaked cheeks.

The cold water from the shower was a shock against the burns, but it offered a fleeting reprieve from the heat. I washed away the blood and soot, the pain a constant, throbbing presence. Each drop of water felt like a small victory, a reminder that I was still alive.

Dressed once more, I returned to my bed, my body heavy with exhaustion. The stars outside shone brightly, indifferent to my suffering.

I was about to close my eyes when my phone buzzed, and I hesitated to turn it on.

It was a notification from the Ruby Diamond High student chat site. I hesitated before clicking on it.

Christine: "The loser has disappeared."

Amy: "Christine, umm, the loser's online!!!!!"

Christine: "Oh, come on, you disappeared from school, but you can't truly disappear!!!"

Ethan: "Elio, you should just give up and truly disappear."

Riley and Rye: "Yeah, everyone is happy you're gone from school, but you just ruined the mood of you being gone by showing up your loser face online."

Amy: "We even had a celebration party for you being gone, and guess who showed up? Luna. I guess she is happy you're gone, and she should be, but you should truly disappear like kill yourself, no one wants you here, not even your ex-childhood friend, Luna, so just kill yo -"

I turned off my phone and reached for the safety pin.

Trembling, I pressed the safety pin from my desk against my skin, the sharp point biting into my waist.

I cried myself to sleep. My Moonflower is truly gone.