Love Hates Me (BoyXBoy)

One Mississippi Two Mississippi Three Mississippi

Chapte 2: One dying on the Mississippi, two drowning in the Mississippi, three playing upon the Mississippi

(Eli pov)

I ran and just wouldn't..no couldn't stop. The emotions flooded through me like...adrenaline. The way James tilted his head and would always bite his lip.

Oh God.

It would have been very hot on that hospital bed...

I quickly shake my head. No, I'm pretty sure James isn't gay. And if he was I probably wouldn't be his first choice. Like I said I'm nothing spectacular.

I finally made it to my humble home. That's a laugh. Humble home my ass.

I knew I was in for it. I mean I practically ran away in the middle of my father lecturing me. There was no way I'd make it out of here alive.

Nevertheless, I hopped on the steps and opened the door. What met me was a pitch black house. I furrowed my eyebrows. Why were all the lights off? I stepped inside.

"You are such a disappoint."

A fist met my face.

I rolled across the floor. My floor is wooden and it isn't exactly an ideal place of comfort.

A kick drove into my side. Blood rose into my mouth. I spat it out on to the harshly dark wooden floor. My eyes blurred as words were flung at me. Like the ghost of knives stabbing me.

"Three hours, Elijah."

A kick.

"Why can't you just listen to me?"

Another one.

"I care for you. Provide for you. Why don't you just listen to me?"

I looked up to the piercing, swirling, pools of green...my father's eyes.

He snorted and bent down. I could smell the stench of alcohol. He picked me up roughly by my starch brown hair. I stared at his shriveled up, pissed off, face.

Well isn't he just happy to see me.

"You know what's more humiliating than a disobedient son?" I knew what the answer was but I didn't move, not one inch. He would stop soon, I just had to take it. 

A swift punch seemingly came out of nowhere. I gasped and sputtered a harsh cough. I didn't want to hear the answer. But somehow he always put in the question and the answer when he was punishing me.

"A faggot son."

It was a silent whisper, but it echoed largely through the empty house. 

Somehow I managed to block out the rest of his punishment. The fear that would regularly coarse through me was long gone. I was a shell of my former self. I felt numb inside and out.

xXxXxXx

My father's eyes were lit with a sadistic fire as he stared at me. My body felt like lead. Every time I made a small movement, pain coursed through me. I could feel his eyes on me as he dragged my beaten and bruised body. My mind was spinning. So fast. I could barely take a breath. 

I was faced with a pearly white ceiling. I tilted my head to where I was being dragged.

I saw the doorway to the basement. My breath hitched.

Oh god please no...

No.

No.

No.

I whimpered as I tried to squirm my way out, to get away, to run. A chuckle rumbled from my father. I shook my head and begged to let him change his mind. It was hopeless and I knew it.