CARNIVORE [MxM+]

Chapter 18

Tycho Black.

The days combine. Six hours feels like twenty, but twenty feels like two. I would say I don't care, but I honestly don't know how I feel.

A while ago, maybe a few days ago at this point, I got home after running away from practice. I couldn't remember why I still had my football gear on or why I had gotten home so late. But Jason was there, waiting for me on the couch. He was pissed off at me because apparently, he had waited at the field until he realized that I wasn't there- that I had left without telling him. He wanted to hit me, I could tell, he gave me that look that he always did. His anger sparked for a millisecond, giving him a surge of energy when I came through the front door. But it died when he realized the state I was in. And for the first time, he didn't look like a stranger. He looked like a concerned father. I knew it was a trap. I felt it in my fucking bones. When he set down his cigarette and told me to come to him, I knew I was going to get hurt. But I felt like a child again. And I so badly wanted his love.

He held me to him. I wasn't a kid, but I still fit in his lap like one. I wanted to cry. My chest hurt. But I knew he didn't like crying, and I didn't wanna screw up again. So I didn't. 

He didn't say anything as he held me. He let me take in the moment, making me notice things I never had before. Like how tired his eyes were. Like the subtle smell of my mother he had on his skin underneath the harshness of the cigarette smoke and alcohol that smelled so intense that it reminded me of roadkill. 

We sat there for hours, watching the sun slowly wake. The TV was off and my mother was asleep. The only sound made was from us when we breathed. It felt like it took forever for his cigarette to die, but when it did, he didn't care. He didn't try to force the ashes onto my skin or even go for another one like he always did. He let it die in his hand. And when it was nothing more than a bud, he left it in the ashtray next to the packet filled with more. He still didn't get one even when his hands- no, his weapons- were there, inches away. Because that meant he'd have to loosen his hold on me. It's like he knew what I was thinking because he tightened his grip around me like I was running away. It was almost like he didn't want me to. 

I don't even remember falling asleep. I just remember waking up in my bed. And I haven't moved since. I only got up to use the restroom or eat on occasion. And every time I'd see Jason, instead of meeting me with a cold look, he'd look away from me. Sometimes he'd even leave the room. 

The second time I slept I was jerked awake by a nightmare. But, like my memories of the past few days, it was hazy. But I woke up crying, muffling the sounds I made into my pillow in case I woke anyone up. After that I couldn't sleep, so I went to check my phone. Except I didn't have my phone or my school bag, because I left it in the locker room. And Like a coward, I ran away from the thought of ever going back. Thinking about school, about football, about Louis, made me want to throw up. It made me want to curl up into a little ball in the corner of my room where I felt safest. 

I haven't slept since the second time. But the sun came and went, then left again. I was so tired I was shaking. But I felt hopeless. Terrified. The future scared me because I didn't know what was in it. Jason's unpredictability has always fucked me over, but who knew I was capable of the same? He wasn't even my real father, but these days I felt like we had more in common than I wanted us to. 

It was on the fourth or fifth morning that he came to my door. 

The knocking made my heart stop, and I prepared for the worst. But he didn't even open the door. He just spoke through it.

"I don't know if you're awake, but if you are, meet me downstairs. There's someone here who would like to see you." I barely registered what he was saying. His voice was low and his tone was soft, almost like he was afraid of my reaction. I realized he was giving me a way out, that if I really wanted to, I could stay in here and ignore the world for another day and have the person on my porch forget I existed. But the thought of staying a coward made me sick.