Caught Up, In Neverland [JM]

[Chapter 7- Home is Hell]

[Chapter 7- Home is Hell]

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"Go get a job for once! Stop being a lazy ass and act like a normal son!" The father of the house screams at his son. He takes his cigar out of his mouth and chases after his son, who already knew that his punishment was going to come sooner or later.

He makes a break for it with eyes wide as he jumps over the bulky couch smoothly, as if he's done it a thousand times before. He hears his father yell more protests and insults, but he doesn't care. He's used to his father's insults. He's so used to hearing his father yell and scream at him to be a better son, but in reality that's all he wants. That's all he ever wanted- to be a better son to his sister and parents. But ever since the day his mother passed away, his father began to abuse his sister instead of his mom and he began to lose himself.

He always felt this guilt of not being able to do anything. It was the same guilt he had when he would witness his mother being abused, but after his mom passed, he found the courage to say something to his father once. It didn't turn out well and his father only increased in the abuse, but at least his courage resurfaced just that one time... At least he saved his sister for that one time...

But now, he's back to his coward self. His sister does all the work- as in she literally works to put food on the table while the father drinks and smokes his organs away. She cleans up after the father by cleaning and throwing away empty beer bottles as well.

The boy of the family began to learn from his dad as well- beginning to drink and such. He would sit at the end of the hallway of seemingly empty apartments and drink away his guilt and suffering. No one seemed to care and sometimes he would think his sister wouldn't care either- Thus began his drinking spree. When he finished his drinks, he would always come home to hear his father's complaints- just like now. Sometimes it would end in "punishment" which resulted in a beating to him or his sister. If he were to run away, though, his sister would get the beating instead- taking the blame for his mistakes.

He decides to run this time though; his light brown hair swishing in front of his eyes as he dodges something that his father had thrown in his direction. He opens the apartment door and slams it shut as something else hits it. Heavy breathes escape the boys mouth as a sob escapes his lips.

"I never do anything right", he cries shakily as he slides down the door, his hands automatically clamping over his mouth to hide his pathetic whimpers. A hiccup escapes his trembling lips and he stands up, the alcohol he had drunk taking effect. He walks down the long and broken down hallway as he clamps onto the railings to keep him steady.

"I hate you..." He mutters under his breath and after quite some time, he makes it to wear he usually sits. Empty beer bottles surround the area and he kicks them off the edge. A satisfied crash is heard as they hit the ground below, causing an amused smile to appear onto his lips.

"I HATE YOU", he yells as his eyes turn glassy once again. He watches as the sun begins to set with its vibrant but still seemingly colorless colors and his breathing slows as another bottle falls off the edge. His eyes move from the sky to the railings, the curiosity of peering over the edge squirming inside his gut. Without another glance at the sky, he takes a step forward and looks down to see pieces of broken glass scattered across the cemented floor with no one even seen near the area to be hit by them. With a relieved sigh, he takes a step away from the ledge and glances at another bottle lying on the floor next to his feet. He picks it up and holds it steadily in his hands, admiring the already fading sticker that had been stamped onto the glass by the beer's company. He's about to toss the bottle over the edge when he hears a piercing scream coming from the apartments that he had left. His eyes widen and his grip on the bottle tightens as he sprints, the alcohol in his system still buzzing but still not as bad as before as his feet pound against the floor.