Short and Bittersweet

Role Model

A/N: TW: Mention of ab-se, dr-gs, and forced s-lf-h-rm. ⚠️

The boy used to be sweet.

And kind,

and loving,

and gentle.

He used to earn good grades, do his chores, and help out everyone he saw.

He was the boy whom all the neighborhood parents would compare their children to.

He used to be a good little boy.

But all of that changed with one small..

hit.

His family knew the little boy wasn't a replica of them. After all, they were models, with perfect bodies, chiseled facial features, and plastic smiles. But they noticed the one thing ruining their image.

The one boy who was, that is.

In addition to being a good boy, the little boy was what unkind individuals call

fugly (fat and ugly).

And, as his artificial family thought, that he was the downfall of their "hard-earned success."

So, they decided to mold him into the little boy who they wanted.

Brutally.

Every day, his family beat him, until he was severely bloody and bruised, with an assortment of tools. It varied from whips, dirty shoes, and even their own fists.

This was to reshape his face to suit modern beauty standards.

They forced the little boy to make long, deep cuts all over his body, even his bloody and bruised face.

This was to "drain the fat."

In addition to this, they degraded him, left and right, and forced him to become their sl-ve.

To man him up.

The good little boy couldn't take it anymore.

He turned to dr-gs, lethal ones, which would slowly, but surely, take his life with prolonged use.

And he did.

Every spare moment, every precious second without bearing his family's ab-se, he would use a deadly amount.

And yet, they did not help. They didn't erase his family's intentions, nor did they make the pain go away.

They didn't muffle the nasty rumors spreading about him, nor did they quench the family's thirst for stardom.

They neither helped nor hindered.

They neither erased nor restored.

They neither gained nor lost.

They neither loved nor hated.

They neither stopped or continued.

And by the time the little boy realized,

it was too late.

And as he felt himself slip into a forever unconscious state, he whispered,

"I'm sorry."

To the world, to his family, and, mostly, to himself.

And that was all the recognition the good little boy needed.

A/N: That was a particularly heart-wrenching chapter (if I do say so myself.) I was in tears writing, and I am sorry if you all are too. I have decided to write sad stories full time instead of sad and horror (which I haven't even done lol). Thank you for reading and have a nice day/night! ☀️🌙