u p h e r e ↬ m.f. & s.m. [completed]

NEW BED

Ts. 1st November 2016

Around four am Mark tried his best to sneak into his apartment and his room.
It were times like this he wished he had a key to lock his room.
Yet there was no key, there was no safety in this hell, in his hell.

There was no energy left inside of him and he felt his excitement fade away like the sun on a cloudy Sunday evening.
He tried to be as quiet as a mouse as he arranged his way trough the cold hallway, for he did not want his father nor his brother to wake up.

But of course, there was no purpose to it.
   And a fat hand grabbed him by his shoulder to drag him into their 'living' room.

"From now on" his father spoke as if he was a snake "you sleep on the couch."
Mark was about to protest, it was the feeling of a ref blowing for a penalty, hammering against his brain that kept him quiet.

"Understood?" He snarled and as the kid, still, said nothing he grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him awake.
As he saw Mark's eyes and how he looked at him, his flat hand fast collided with his cheek and left a burning stain.

Hands still on his son's shoulders, he pushed him towards his new bed on which he fell.
He did not care to minder his fall.

Mark noticed the stinky warmth of his father above him as he whispered "I'm sure a little whore like you has no problems sleeping on the couch, am I right?"

Mark flinched, yet again he kept quiet, for he did not want to risk his father bursting out in anger.
The man soon left but before he closed the door to Mark's room (in which the bed was in which he now would sleep) he laughed sarcastically:

"50 bugs per hour? What are you? A living sex toy?"
   As he heard the hard wooden door fall shut with a bang tears started to tell from his eyes.

He felt the salty water on his skin colliding with left over blood under his nose.
   He did not care to move an inch even though his position probably was the most uncomfortable he was ever in.

He still could feel his father's warmth above him, his words in his ears. The mere thought brought up disgust and he was happy for he did empty his stomach already.
The only reason he came home that night was that he hoped nobody would notice his absence. Yet he clearly failed.

So it was that he decided to get up. Every bone in his body hurt and his eye pumped. The smell of alcohol and sweat wrapped the whole apartment in its aura.

As he stumbled out of the room he saw his brother peaking out of his room again.
In the dark and sticky atmosphere of the nigh their eyes met. This moment was filled with tragedy and sorrow.

Yet the young boy seemed to understand the situation, for he went close to his brother to give him a warm hug.
"I missed you." He whispered as his head laid on Mark's chest.

"Missed you, too." The words were rough on his throat and just a whisper, yet the hug of his brother strengthen as he understood every word perfectly.

"Where're you going?"
He asked, and looked up at the red haired boy.

"To Jack's" he answered "are you scared here alone?"
Thomas just nodded and looked down at the ground, ashamed.

Mark took his brother by his hips and raised him so he could carry him in his arms.

And so they walked off to Jack's.