anathema || TYLER JOSEPH/JENNA BLACK

one // won't you torture someone else's sleep?

The first thing Tyler heard was the yelling.

He scrambled to his bedroom, from his place by the stairs, where he was listening to his mom and dad yell at each other. He dove under his bed covers, shaking. He wasn't cold, though.

Mom had come home drunk again, at least that's what he heard Dad yell about. He always hated it when she was drunk. She was way meaner when she was drunk.

Tyler listened intently, and poked his head out of the blankets when he heard silence. He let out a breath of air.
Maybe she left again.
Maybe she was dead.

Alas, those were only his wishes. He heard the clambering of footsteps up coming up the stairs, and he tensed. His bedroom door flung open, and the light turned on.

"Get up."

Tyler shakily stood up, to see the woman he was supposed to call his mother, standing before him.

"Did you do your baskets today?" She asked, voice like steel. He winced, and bit his lip. Even the sound of her voice brought him to tears.

"Did you do your five-hundred baskets?" She asked again, slowly, but forcefully, as if she was speaking to Tyler's baby cousin. Tyler was nine; he wasn't a baby.

"N-no-" he blubbered, and she sighed. "I didn't have time-" He stuttered, and she scoffed dryly. "All I ever hear from you are excuses. Can't you ever mind me?"

"I-I'm sorry-" he whispered, letting out a small sob, and Kelly rolled her eyes. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, that's all you ever say. And, now you're crying. Great, now you'll get me in trouble," She hissed, as the sound of Tyler's father became known.

"Kelly, please. Let him sleep. He has school tomorrow, and this isn't the time, or place-" Chris begged, from the doorway, as Kelly whipped her head around. "He's my son, you can't tell me how to talk to him," She hissed, and Chris opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but closed it quickly.

Kelly turned back to Tyler, seeing that he was sobbing silently, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Stop crying. I thought you grew out of that. What are you crying about?" She sneered, and he inhaled shakily. "I-I-" He blubbered, and she narrowed her eyes, fed up.

She tilted his head up, to look at her forcefully, and he whimpered. "Shut up," She threatened, and he let out a shaky sob, making her hiss and raise her hand back, before swiftly slapping her son across the face.

The slap was forceful enough to make the lanky boy to stumble back, and fall to his knees in shock. He gingerly held his face, which now displayed a red mark, before looking up at the woman who loomed over him, terrified.

She pulled him to his feet, and leaned close to his face. He gagged at the stench of alcohol tainting her breath. "You're nothing but a cry baby. You're weak, all you do is cry,...you're not my son. You're pathetic," She spat, and he shakily inhaled, as her lips curled into a menacing smirk. "You have anything to say?" She challenged, and he bit his lip. "I-I'm sorry-" he whispered, and she glared at him. "You should be," she growled, before raised her hand above her head, and-

Tyler woke up with a jolt, his eyes wide and heart racing, cold sweat beaded across his forehead. He turned on his side, to see that it was 3:47a.m., and he let out a shaky breath.

He turned to rest on his back, and stared up at his ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the same thing, haunting him. He had no idea how he was going to go back to sleep.