Temper, Temper

Chapter 1

Chapter one

~~Kyle

I watched him raise his arm, I knew when it would hit me, it would bruise like all the others, his iron fist causing permanent damage as always. It struck my cowering body. Hard. 'Don't cry, are you weak?' A voice that wasn't my own spoke inside the depths of my mind. I curled up, all 5feet and 11 inches of me. I shut my eyes tight, so tight it fealt as if it they would tear apart.

"Dammit Kyle, you ruin everything!!!" He screamed.

I knew exactly was my drunkard of a father was talking about. He blames me for my mother leaving with my twin brother, Liam. In reality, he used to hit us all, he always has, and always will come home drunk off of his mind, we were younger... he hit my mother so hard, she fell. Almost unconscious. Liam had enough, i sat in a corner crying as usual, worried he would come to us, we watched my mother fall to the ground bleeding, we were only ten and Liam, my twin brother was far stronger then me and brave, too! He walked up to my father, and hit him back. I watched as my childhood hero, my brother, came crashing down. i shuddered at the memory that haunted my dreams, hiding in the dark, but never scared of daylight. Finally, my mother had enough, ill never know why they left me alone with my abusive father. Maybe i deserve this. maybe, i deserve to bleed . He picked up a once happy family photo, it dropped from his shaky hands. I watched the last materialized shard of my happy past crash and brake, much like myself. More tears streaked my face.'Your so weak' the voice reported. The lights went out suddenly, he probably forgot to pay the bill, again. He grumbled and took another swing of his whisky. Through slits of my eyes, I watched as he swayed back and forth, spilling his newly opened bottle all over the floor, eventually, he crashed. Spilling the clear liquid all over our blood stained carpet. I didn't dare move, for I feared it would wake him, and that, left me terrified.

I waited until I could hear him snoring, then I walked silently to the attic, my pour excuse for a room. The old floral wall paper was peeling, I swept my brown hair out of my face and sat down in front of my mirror, gazing at my reflection. 'Fat. fat. fat' I ate too much today, my thighs were growing too much, 'fat.fat.fat.' The voices were telling me over and over, like a song stuck on repeat. I wondered, why was it me. Why did my mother leave me behind? Why does my father come home every night drunk? Why am I so weak?

'Because fool, it's a part of living. Just die, it'll be over soon'

maybe I should, just to stop the pain. Who wouldn't want to see a pathetic seventeen year old boy dangling from the ceiling, arms slashed, with a silhouette of blood beneath. I dazed off at the dream, it soothed me. I wanted to die. Now. My tears make lines on my cheeks become hot. I looked in the mirror at my bloody reflection. My dark brown eyes had a redish tinge from my watery tears,

'god Kyle, get it together' I spoke to myself this time. 'Your falling apart. Worthless child. Cut. Cut. Cut.' The voices were screaming inside my head.

I gave in. Frantically, I searched for my childhood teddy bear. He held my secrets, from then, and now. He, kept my blades and my knife. i reached into the hole i made, i found my knife, the blade softy kissing my skin. I took it out and flipped open the pocket knife, gazing at the blade, shiny. I loved how it looked In the pale moonlight. Slowly, I pressed the blade against my right arm.

'Don't cross the street, go down the road' the voice spoke again.

I started at my wrist, and dragged the blade up to my elbow, it was deep. Not deep enough. I winced in pain. Then dismissed it. I traced the line again, going a little deeper. Looking down at me newly made cut, I watched blood flow. I had no desire to clean it up, just simply let it go, why should I care? I don't. I looked down at the once brown hardwood floor, What's another few stains?' I asked myself.

'Your not dead yet, Kyle. Look. A window'

I instinctively turned my head towards the open window. I knew I was messed up, there was no point in living. I'm two stories up.. It'll work. I'm done. I stood there. I wasn't scared. I was on the windowsill, ready to jump. No one would care. I looked across the fence at my neighbors house, a light turned on, I dismissed it. I lifted my foot slowly, I would walk off, and fall to me Death. I looked down. I was ready. "

KYLE! Stop!!" It was a girls voice, that, I knew.

"Whaa- I began to say

"Do not jump. She was demanding. I liked that.

'Jump kyle' The voices said one thing, the girl said another. All I saw, was her blackened silouhette, the pale moonlight, as well as an endless infinite of stars...

~~ Alice

I heard him yell. I heard crying. I knew. Then and there. Kyle Bromson, was getting beat. Again. I wish I could help. Alas, I can not. If only.. If only...

I looked through my window, I always looked. He never noticed. I hate how invisible I am to everyone.

'No one cares about Alice, she should run away to wonderland. Forever.' I had heard these voices calling me again and again, their hard to ignore.

"Dammit Kyle, you ruin everything!!" I heard his dads angry voice.

'At least he has a dad' I thought.

I heard muffled cries, and glass shattering. The lights went out. Everything was drenched in an eerie silence. I waited. Nothing.

'Is he dead?! Should I go over there?!?' My mind was racing 'he can't be dead. No no NO!!!'

I ran upstairs, to see if I could spot him in his room, I flickered on the lights, and dashed as far as my weak legs could take me. I ran to the window. He was there. I let out a small sigh of relief.

"What the hell-" I cut myself off 'he's jumping,

'Alice. Join him. Die too!' The voice were screaming.

With tears in my eyes, I opened my window

"KYLE! Stop!" I screamed, my voice like iron.

"Whaa-" he said.

"Do not jump!" I demanded.

I saw him confused, startled. I watched his silouhette, beautiful and dark, save for his face, lit up by the moon, his eyes were a light copper, more red then usual brown, he'd been crying. Much like I am now. Then, I saw his arm. Drenched in blood, and cut up again, I wanted to say more. I wanted him to notice all 102 pounds of me. I wanted him to notice how my hair changes, I want to see his scars. I want him to kiss mine. I want to hold him when his dad hurts him, because after all, boys bleed too.