An Abusive Mother... and The Truth (pt. 2)

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Y/N's POV
"Y/N!"
I look up, slowly and shakily, to see my mother standing over me, pure hatred showing in her eyes. I knew she wasn't drunk. She didn't drink. She knows she's doing this. Nobody cares. I tell myself these things as my mother's beating me with my dad's belt. My dad cares, he's just never home to see this happen. Or maybe he doesn't care. Who knows. Brendon does. Brendon cares. Now my voices come in. Oh, what? Oh, no, this was me talking to myself, not my voices. My voices are much worse...

Hey, slut. Brendon doesn't care either.

He never did, and he never will.

That's why he never called you back.

I manage to drown out some of my voices as I crawl under my mother, sprint to my bedroom, grab my phone, and sprint out the door. I quickly text Brendon.

Coffee Girl: brendon whats your address

Beebo: why?

Coffee Girl: my mother was just abusing me and i need to get out as quick as possible im outside my house whats your fucking address

Beebo: oh my address is (insert random address here)

Coffee Girl is offline.

Cutter // Brendon Urie x ReaderWhere stories live. Discover now