Kellin Qwern's POV
Vic! Vic, please stop, oh my god, I can't breathe! Vic, please- stop! I'm going to suffocate, I- oh my god!" I squealed from under my best friend, whose hands were at war with my belly, tickling me relentlessly without any intentions of stopping.
"Are you going to stop drawing penises all over my homework?" he asked, slightly out of breath.
Apparently, torturing someone by using their over-sensitiveness to your advantage was tiring work.
My face broke out into a sly grin, staring up at the Mexican boy straddling me on his bed, his hands at the ready, just taunting me with a mocking look.
A look that said he could start up again at any moment.
"Maybe," I teased slowly.
I shouldn't have said that.
His hands found their way underneath my crewneck, running along my sides and grazing over my skin until I was a squirming fit of giggles yet again.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop! I'll stop, okay!" I shrieked, shrill and embarrassingly squeaky.
The tormenting ceased as his hands came to a halt, resting at my hips. But his face was unsure; like he wasn't certain if he should trust my word.
"Promise?" he questioned, his beaming smile widening across his face.
I almost said no just to keep it there.
"I promise, okay! Now get off of me, you weigh like, 500 pounds," I replied huffily, wheezing ever so slightly at the weight on my small body.
He scoffed in mock hurt, pulling an adorable pout and covering his chest with folded arms.
"I do not! I weigh just as much as you, and you're probably like, less than an anorexic dog," he said with a grin.
Great, now even he was picking on me about my weight.
Before I could respond to his remark, the door to Vic's bedroom was rapped on by a dainty set of knuckles, and the boy resting on top of me flung himself off like I was a new pandemic infection.
Vic's mother appeared in the doorway, nodding slightly at me as a greeting.
"Hello Kellin," she said, smiling at me warmly, but with tired eyes. "I'm sorry sweetie, but it's almost 1:30 in the morning, you should get going." she tried in the gentlest tone possible, but it didn't make the statement any less sorrowful.
Leaving Vic always made me a bit sad.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Fuentes. I'll leave right away." I replied, gathering my books off of Vic's bed in the process.
I could tell she didn't mean to try and rush me, but I guessed she was too tired to kindly explain herself, so she left the room with another gracious facial expression in my direction and a sort of stern, "go to bed when he's gone" look towards Vic.
"Right, well, I guess I better go." I suggested to the other boy in the room, who nodded almost sadly in reply. Before I could walk out the door, though, his lanky arms found their way around me and gripped me tight in a hug.
"Be careful, okay?" he breathed against my neck.
The walk home wasn't the problem. I only lived across the street.
A weak nod of my head told him I would, and I left his house with a small twinge of anxiety toying with my gut, slowly but surely growing into a panicked fear with every step I took towards my house.
'Here we go.'
When I reached the door to my home, I lingered on the porch, my feet planted on the concrete, undecided of whether I should enter or run back to the safety of Vic.
I wasn't afraid of my house; that would be silly.
It was waited inside that I was afraid of.
The bitter cold was biting harshly at my delicate skin, and I was a shuddering mess of chills and goosebumps as I wavered on the top step.
'Just get it over with, Kellin.'
Soon enough I latched onto the doorknob, and was instantly engulfed with almost comforting warmth as I entered my residence, relieved of my frigid condition from the cold weather outside.
Much to my dismay, however, the comfort and warmth were shattered by the sound of a slurring, drunken voice rasping in my ear.
My rude, alcoholic and abusive uncle.
"Where have you been, boy? What have you been doing?" he snarled at me, the putrid smell of alcohol that found its way to my nose made me cringe with every syllable.
"I-I'm sorry I'm late, I-I was at Vic's, a-and we had h-homework-,"
My stammering excuse was cut short by a hand whipping across my cheek with incredible speed, sounding as a crude slapping noise that echoed through the room.
"Don't you lie to me, you little bitch." he pressed.
I guessed he, having running out of tangible reasons to beat me, had began to falsely accuse me of being a liar. What he supposed I was doing instead of doing work at Vic's though, was out of my mind.
"I-I'm not lying! I-," I began, but the rest of my response never came, nor was it ever given time to be said, as a wicked blow connected with my face in the form of a fist, splitting my lip with seemingly no effort.
I dropped to my knees on the floor, doubling over when a clenched hand returned to my face with a burning ache.
"P-please, s-stop …" I whimpered helplessly.
Another round of hits to my defenseless body meant that he had decided to ignore my pleading.
"You know what, you little faggot?" he growled quite a few bumps and bruises later, hovering over me, his hand around my throat and his face too close to mine. The scent of alcohol flourishing on his breath found its way to my nose again, making me want to gag.
"You deserve everything you get," he said, "And no one fucking cares about you at all. You don't mean shit to anyone, you know why?" he questioned, pausing a moment to deliver a sharp kick to my side.
"Because you are fucking worthless." he spat with a final punch to my face, before backing away from my limp form on the ground and retreating to his room, muttering some threat that I was sure he would carry out the next day.
I stayed curled in my worn out ball on the floor; until I was sure he had given me my fill of hurt for the day and wasn't going to bother me again; at least for the night.
My lifeless body began to trudge towards my room, my uncle's words running through my head, harassing my mind with their venomous hatred.
I had these names and plenty more tacked on me so often that I had started to think of them as true.
As I wandered into the bathroom, I slumped to the ground, needing a break from my emotional distress and vulgar thoughts.
Cabinets were opened and my hand soon came into contact with my cold, shiny form of escape.
'I really am worthless.'