Another day, a 24 hour space that has to take much longer than that.
Walking to the place where He can no longer even say two words without being hit by several balls of paper ,or told that He should leave and die.
Yes this is life for him and it has been for a very very long time in his mind but only a few short months in real time.
Everyday seems like a normal day, maybe one where people are nice to him, maybe one where people want to reach out and sit with him in class or whenever so he doesn't have to spend all of his time alone. But no it's not ,it never is for him for those who don't who he is this is the life of Jake .For the time being anyways.
Weirdo ,faggot, little shit ,waste of space al things he is called on a day to day basis before some thinks it's a good idea to push him straight down a small flight of stairs or take his head and shove it in a toilet bowl, yes school life is clearly not the best thing for Jake.
Obviously. What's even more worse than his school life well at a stretch his home life.
Walking in and already hearing his mother roar at him for being a little late or because she has no one else to scream at. Often the casual phrases are "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE!!" or "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LATE" both of those sentences meaning nothing considering this is both his house and he is not late ,but that does not matter to his mother.
She grabs him by the hair and throws him on to the harsh wooden floor of the hall and says what she would normally say "DON'T BE LATE AGAIN OR YOUR NOT COMING BACK" why this would matter in anyway, shape or form he doesn't know but to her it does.
He knows inside she is just taking her anger out on him or that she is drunk enough to not give a shit about anyone but her self. The sad fact is he knows it's more the second one than the first even though they are both non-acceptable reasons for her behaviour.
He escapes to his room. The only place he feels safe from anything and anyone.
He sits against the wall eyes watering, and another little piece of him is slowly broken inside.
He sees no end to this and thinks if this is his own fault. If he caused her to be like that. If he is that disruptive to people that they have to hurt him.
He goes to his draw, reaches his hand through all the unfinished drawings, plugs ,memory's of times that are forgotten. He pulls out a small cloth and starts to unravel it.
He sees the sharpened edge, it's surface enough to pierce most soft objects.
He closes his eyes as he can't believe that none of this is not his fault.
He moves it across his arm.
Once, twice , three times, four times,
Stabbing it in to his arm as the blood starts to flow from his arm on to the already stained and worn carpet.
He feels it release, all the pain and anger and everything he feels that he is responsible for.
Gone, for a single moment everything is gone.
He breaths slowly, putting the small blade down at his side.
Resting his against the wall tears streaming down his face but no emotions visible. Just tears.
This is jakes life day in day out and he knows he will carry on like this. But there is hope for him he knows he can get away from everything by leaving.
Going with the parent that has been absent in his life physically but has always made sure he was okay.
His father was subject also to his mothers abusive nature and he left.
He had no other choice. But he always knew deep down that Jake would get out of there. But it wasn't his choice to take him out of there. It was jakes.
