Make Me Learn

1 - Respect

Abuser. Abuser. The word ricocheted inside my skull like a bullet.

I slammed my fist into my bedroom wall, succeeding in nothing but tearing open the skin of my knuckles. I barked out some sort of profanity and clutched my hand to my chest. It hurt, but nowhere near as much as I'd hurt Orion.

Was it abuse? I didn't know, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to. There was no love in that relationship, barely even a mutual friendliness. We'd called it BDSM - well, I'd used that excuse - but now I wasn't so certain. BDSM was supposed to be fun, not fucking traumatising.

I kicked the wall. It hurt more than the punch. This time, I almost welcomed the pain. I deserved it.

"Damon, will you cut that out!" my mum screamed up the stairs.

I considered yelling at her to fuck off, then remembered she had a bloke round who she was supposed to be impressing. If he was anything like the last one, he could go screw himself, but in the end it was my mum's decision, and she wouldn't want me messing things up by cussing at her down the stairs or thumping about in my room.

I grabbed my black biker jacket from the floor, struggling into it as I marched to my bedroom door. If I couldn't be angry here, then fine, I'd go and be angry somewhere else. Shoving my phone into the back pocket of my black skinny jeans, I threw open the door and stomped down the stairs.

I was intercepted at the door by my mother. "Where are you going?" She was dressed nicely, in a new skirt and her best blouse. Her black hair - messy and rebellious like mine - had been temporarily tamed into bouncy curls.

I scowled and reached for the door handle, but she slapped my hand away. Her nails were painted a light pink. Looked like she really was trying hard for this one.

"Where are you going, Damon?" she persisted.

"Let me fucking leave!" I hadn't meant to swear, not really, but I should have known the restraint I'd shown upstairs wasn't going to last.

The reason my mum looked all pretty decided then to join us in the hallway. "How dare you speak to your mother like that?" He had his arms folded over his chest, covered with a button-up shirt. He was clean shaven with his hair neatly brushed. He seemed almost decent for someone trying to bed my mother.

"This is none of your fucking business," I spat. I looked him over, searching for some sort of degrading comment I could throw at him, ignoring the likelihood of regretting my impulsive decision to essentially put my mum's chances with this guy through a shredder. "Do you think it'll be easier to get into my mum's pants if you defend her?"

My mother pressed her lips into a thin line. "Don't do this now, Damon." I could hear the faint pleading tone, but ignored it.

"Do what? Tell him how it fucking is? He has no fucking right sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong."

"Damon-"

I grabbed the door handle. This time, I wasn't stopped. I stormed out and slammed the door behind me, hearing it rattle in the frame.

I hated the men my mother got with; more so, I hated how they tried to shoulder in on my life and thought they had every fucking right to treat me how they wanted - some in worse ways than others. There was only one man who could call himself my father. Anyone else was a fake, a fraud, and a front who cared solely about my mum.

Burying my hands in my pockets, I started off down the street. Suburbia. Quiet and boring by day, overrun with stupid teenagers who had nothing better to do by night. Me included.

I realised I was walking in the direction of Orion's house. A pang of guilt resonated in my stomach. The amount of times I'd just invited myself in there...