hobo heart x reader. Perhaps we value each other?

My Past

(Warning: this chapter contains themes of child abuse and sexualizing. Reader discretion is advised)

I eventually plop down flat on my bed and stare at the ceiling. With a heavy sigh I close my eyes.

"Well it wasn't all bad at first, my childhood was actually really nice. But, for some reason everything changed one day, when I was about 5 or 6 and I met Marcy. My adoptive parents started fighting a lot, and I mean a lot. Even over small things. The stress and tension that filled that house was unbearable to say the least. They didn't even try to hide it either.

I remember some of the fights were about cheating, bankruptcy, job loss and jail. I guess dad had lost his job and was being sued so they had to go bankrupt or they would go to jail. After that mom cheated on dad and kept doing it so she could get money. They couldn't leave each other due to me so they both picked up horrible habits.

Dad started drinking and mom started doing drugs. Bills became past due and things got shut off, sometimes there wasn't even any food in the house. I was scared, hungry and alone. I was only able to eat at school and because they stopped bathing me, everyone began to avoid me. My friends stopped coming over and began ignoring me completely.

When the drinks and drugs weren't helping them feel better they turned their anger towards me. Yelling at me, blaming me for everything that went wrong. They denied me food whenever possible and sometimes even water. They sold all my things for money and took anything I had. Once I turned 10 they began getting physical."

I have to stop for a moment to calm my breathing.

"Hey," Hobo heart whispers softly, just loud enough for me to hear, "you don't have to continue if you don't want to."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "No, it's fine, really. I..." I let out a heavy sigh, "I want to tell you."

I clear my throat to keep my voice from cracking. "The first time they hit me was when they found out I was looking for food in trash cans. My mom had slapped me across the face with the back of her hand, I ended up getting scratched from the rings she wore. She told me I didn't deserve to eat because every thing that was going wrong was my fault. That's also when I found out I was adopted.

She told me if they hadn't been paid to take me they wouldn't have taken me in and cared for me. If they were still childless they would be happy. If I hadn't  been born different I could have stayed with my real mother. I didn't understand then, but I do now.

After that it only got worse. They threw things at me, trying running me over, even purposely broke my hand one time because I had made some money helping a neighbor then stole that money from me. I had to sneak food to survive and if I was caught I'd get punished with a broken finger.

They never took me to a hospital, didn't really need it. I would just reset the bone and it was usually fine in a week. I always healed quickly but I thought that was normal. Bruises never lasted more than a day and cuts healed within hours.  They still scarred though.

When I turned 18 things went from bad to worse. My mother forced me to undress and she took pictures of me in my underwear. I later learned that she was selling these photos. Thankfully it never went further than that and she usually cropped my face out, but it was still terrible.

I tried getting something done but for some reason nothing ever happened. And Marcy knew too but she always said she wasn't allowed to interfere. So I started looking for Slender Man, hoping to die. I wanted to die so badly."

I grew silent, unable to continue due to the large lump in my throat that had formed and the tears that now rolled down my temples.

The room was silent for a while as I composed myself. When I was better I sat up and looked at Hobo heart who was staring at me with shock.

"That explains a lot. Not just with your heart but your scars and your constant attempts of finding us as well as all the dangerous situations you put yourself in." His eyes slowly drifted to the floor. "You were taught to hate yourself and so you lost your value."

I shrug lightly and lay back down. "Yeah but it is what it is. That's the life of a human sometimes, we aren't all lucky enough to live happy lives. But, if I ever had a kid, I'd make sure she knew her value and lived the best life possible."

He eventually got up and walked over to sit next to me. He sat cross legged on my bed next to my head, looking down at me. "Do you think you would ever value yourself again?"

I turn my head and look away from him. "Probably not. I honestly don't think anyone could ever value someone as broken as me anyway, so why would I value myself?"

"Well," he reached down and gently played with a strand of my jet black hair, "what if someone were to value you?"

I scoff then look at him. His usual cold and empty eyes were filled with worry and hurt. "Well," I sit up and sit on the edge of the bed, as far from him as I could get. "Then they are stupid. A-and need to get their priorities straight."

I bite my tongue as it hurt to say those words but allowing him to get close to me would only make me hurt more, especially if he realizes I'm not worth his time. I need to push him away.

"It could be your heart talking, or maybe I am stupid but..." I feel his arms slowly and gently wrap around me from behind. "I value you."