The Light to My Darkness boyxboy

Prologue

The Light to My Darkness

Prologue

"Get back here you fucking faggot!" I hear Dylan, one of my tormentors scream at me as I make a dash down one of the several hallways on this floor. I don't dare look back in fear that I would trip or another would pop up in front of me. Didn't they think I get enough of this at school? I huff as I continue to run, what did I ever do to them? Nothing, yet they feel like they have to make my life hell. I can hear the pounding of their angry footsteps getting closer to me. I never was the most athletic person out there. Not that I'm much of anything anyway. But I don't really need to tell myself that because they tell me enough already.

Turning rapidly down a hallway leading to my safe haven, I would have been safe but I unfortunately ran into a wall, a wall made of flesh. I ricochet off of the body and crashed onto the floor. I whimper as I look up at the face of the 'wall' and find it to be James, the oldest of the tormentors, and just so happens to be my oldest brother, alive that is. He smirks down at my shaking frame and his eyes narrow at mine and then looks up at the others as they come running towards us. I try to scoot back but soon find I am surrounded, by all five of my brothers.

James, Felix, Dylan, Phillip, and Edward. We may be related but no one could tell. All five of them had smooth brown hair, and a muscular tan body. They were all over 6'3" and only had a five year age gap between them all, with Dylan and Phillip being twins. Another thing that was an indicator of their relation would be their great hatred of me. I am the baby of the family, and the basic outcast. With my almost white - blond hair, baby blue eyes, and ghostly complication, combined with my skin and bone body set and just over 5'6" height, it was safe to say that only a DNA test would prove that we are flesh and blood. And as for their hatred for me, they believe I had a hand with the murder of our youngest sibling, which was a little boy named Blake. He looked identical to the rest of my family, brown hair and eyes, born into our once 'loving' home. Everything was perfect until Blake was found dead in a bathtub, drowned to death.

His death sparked an outburst in the community, since my father was a very well known business man, with several multi million dollar businesses to look after. Everyone was in shock of the sudden news, and looked for a scapegoat. Some chose irresponsibility, others lack of caring, and some it was an accident. But for my brothers, I was the scapegoat. They thought I killed my brother so I could remain the youngest and not have my rights questioned when it came with which business I wanted to take over one day.

Personally, I believe he killed himself. It started when I was five, and Blake was 4. I only know because we went through the same hell together. Since we were very close in age, only one year apart, we were always together. So naturally, we usually shared a room, without an actual need to. And when my mother started to sneak into our room at night, without knowledge of us sharing, she would start to molest Blake. When I woke up to him crying and saw my mother, I got her attention on myself, and well, she started to give me the same treatment. We were terrified, it continued for five long years, until the day he was found dead in the bath. When they were looking for a reason as to why, I finally spoke up and told my father about what had been happening to us, at that point I was slapped across the face and beaten for being an "attention whore". And thus came the rumors and lies about me killing the only brother who even remotely loved me. So with their new found hatred for me, they came to the conclusion of abusing me, making my life a living hell. And it has been. Ever since Blake died when I was ten. It had been eight years, and with tonight being my 18th birthday, and the eighth year anniversary of his death, I was frightened to what was going to happen, and if I was going to live till tomorrow.

"Well Remington, was all that running really worth it? All it did was piss us off more." I hear Dylan taunting behind me. He always had more generosity with nasty words than the others. While his twin Phillip was more physical. Dylan had the mouth, and Phillip had the muscles to reinforce the words Dylan spoke.

I stayed quiet at their question, knowing the sound of my voice only pissed them off more. I stared at the floor while I heard them continue to taunt me. Each word cutting like a knife. Telling me things I already know.

Stupid.

Ugly.

Worthless.

Unwanted.

Fat.

Murderer.

Pathetic.

My eyes slowly start to water hearing the words spoken from my brothers mouths, for what seems like the thousandth time. And each time never hurts less, it just cuts a little deeper into the wounds on my soul, and on my body. I am partially numb as I feel a hand go around my throat. I feel myself getting lifted off of the ground and into the air. My hands fly up to my throat yanking desperately at the hand slowly enclosing my throat. I see stars dance across my vision when I find my head and body being thrust against a wall. This motion is repeated until I am begging it to stop. "Please," I say as tears drip down my face. "It hurts... p-please s-stop..." I now begin to sob.

My brothers laugh at my pleas, but drop me to the floor allowing me to catch my breath. When the laughter dies down I slowly raise my eyes to their faces, and as soon as I do, I feel the pain of a slap on my cheek, causing me to whip my head to the side. "Who the fuck do you think you are, you piece of shit!" Edward exclaims. "Do you think you are an equal to us? You're fucking nothing, just trash that is lucky enough to live here. You disgust all of us, you are lucky we haven't killed you yet."

At the end of his rant a foot connected with my rib cage, causing pain to ripple down my side. A scream rips from my mouth as I arch my back on reflex. "Now you've asked for it." I hear one of them mumble before I feel fists flying down on my body, along with kicks to my ribs and lower back. I curl into a ball, to try to protect myself a little bit, but it proves useless as pain is practically vibrating my whole body.

After what I had to think was close to 45 minutes but felt like eternity, the blows slowed and I was eventually left alone on the floor weeping in pain. I stayed still for another moment or so to make sure the beating was done and then I painfully attempted to get up and walk to my room. I eventually decided that wobbling was my best choice and slowly made my way to the only true safe place I knew.

When I finally reached my room, which was only probably around 30 feet away from where I started, I opened the door quickly and slipped in locking my four locks in place. I shrugged off my clothes and slowly moved into the built-in bathroom, and turned on the water of the huge tub. As it filled, I turned to study myself in the mirror across from the tub. I cringed as I saw my body, black and blue bruises already be gain to form on my pale body. I ran my hand up and down my body feeling the bumpy, smooth, hairless texture of my ugly body. I can see why people hate even the slightest sight of my person. I am truly disgusting, a freak, I don't even belong in the one place everyone should, their family. If anything my family hates me more than life itself, so who would really care if I were to die? But then again I would probably screw that up, because I can't do anything right, even kill myself. Believe me, I have tried. Doing another sweep down my body I see every imperfection, every scar, every piece of disgusting fat, every bruise, every burn, every cut, every mark that littered my pale skin. My eyes water as I look away from the horrific sight in front of me.

I settled into my bathtub, sighing as the warm water licks my skin with its hot tongue. I wash quickly but sit in for a long time after, and my mind soon starts to race with thoughts of the truth my brothers spoke to me. Now sobbing once more I reach over to the end of my tub and grab a box. I open and shuffle through the contents until I reached what I desired. My fingers wrapped around the cool blade as I set it on the inside of my wrists. It didn't really matter where I cut, my body was covered in scars I gave myself, and only a few were forcefully given. My hand tenses as I quickly brought the blade down to my skin, slicing it deeply open. Happy Birthday to me, I guess. It wasn't enough to kill me but, the pain sure felt like it would. I numbly repeated the process until I ran out of room, which wasn't long. There probably isn't an inch on my body that doesn't have a scar.

I relished in the pain for a little while longer until the water became cold. I came out of the now red bath water and cleaned myself up. After I was dry and made sure I wasn't bleeding anymore I slowly climbed into my bed, wrapping myself in the blankets like a cocoon. I stared blankly at a wall until my mind succumbed to the pull of unconsciousness. Giving me a small break from the hell I lived in everyday.