Summertime (Frerard)

4: I Can't Hear Their Whispers But They Will Remember My Screams

Heyyyyy guys:) I hope y'all are enjoying this story as much as I enjoy writing it:)

"You filthy fag!"

I don't know what stings more; the harsh, poison laced words or the lash of his barehand slashing violently across my cheek in one fluid motion. 

I hate him. I hate, I hate him.

It hurts to know for certain that things would be so much different if mum was still alive, because they'd still be in love and there'd be something more than extra benefits to live off of that prevented my 'father' from throwing me out and disowning me completely without a care.

"Aren't you going to apologise?" His poisonous words slither out between those slimy lips and they seem to tinge green under the venom sacks pursed between them. He sucks on the inside, his bottom teeth pressing up into the gum behind his lips. He likes the taste of his own venom. He likes the pain, he likes the wincing, he likes the smirk, he likes the hurt. He's psychopathic. I even think he may murder me sometimes, but I doubt he has the figure to run a teenage boy down. He looks like he's carrying a second person around in fat. I squirm at the thought.

"W-What..." I stammered out. He's impatient and psychotically violent, which I can guarantee you, are not a good combination. "What am I apologising for?" His expression turns up in a fit of anger. "N-No! I just I- What have I done wrong?"

"Exist." He spits at me in a way that shouldn't remind me of Gerard. Despite the fact I hate the boy, no one can compare the monster that's lingering a few metres away from me. A few metres too close to me.

"I-"

"Shut it scum!" I step backwards, leaving myself pressed against the back wall of the landing, which certainly isn't one of the greatest spots to be, seeing as he gigantic figure is blocking my way to the stairs. "I wish I never met your whore of a mother." I swallow hard. I can't retaliate; things only get worse and I'd only mess up my situation further. If I just waited through his rant and agree to some degree then maybe, maybe he wouldn't let me off too harsh. I know now that that's an utter lie. However, it comforts me, so I stick with it.

"Your slut of a mother." He barks at me. He knows far too well what my weak spots are and I hate that. I hate the fact he has the capacity to store these things, I hate that he's not as blunt as he seems, I hate that he knows exactly where to drill, what strings to pull, who to hurt, what words to spit at me. I hate it. I hate it all. 

"She comes up to me, she's like wearing fuck all. Naked and ready, bitch grabs me and drags me to the bedroom. And grabs me..." He pauses to cough up something I can't see and I make a mental note to thoroughly avoid that area of carpet. "The slut, she grabs me and pulls me inside of her, in out we're at it now. Do you know what two people do-" He chokes on his own laughter, "no, of course you don't; as if anyone'd. Well fag, I'm going to teach you. I'm inside of her and she's touching me and I'm running my fingers all over here." I barely stop myself from gagging at the thought of his filthy fingers all over my mother's fragile frame, her pale skin attacked by layers of grease and hatred, him spitting curse words- He wasn't like that then, but I can hardly remember a time when I didn't loathe the man who stood in front of me. "And then the slut decided to get pregnant with you. Women are bitches like that, don't worry I doubt you'll ever have to worry about that." He snorts.

I may be a virgin, but I've had a girlfriend. It only lasted a week and I can barely remember her name, but it was meaningless and I'm not gay or anything. I just- The world is full of sluts and assholes. My school is not exactly a hot dating ground so I have some leave here and I really don't have enough social tolerance to bother with assholes out of school hours as well.

"So fag, how is your love life right now? I hope your arse is okay, I heard it's pretty rough-"

"I'm not gay!" I find myself belting out and quite instantly regretting it.

He scoffs, "and your mother's not a filthy slut-"

"She wasn't!" My stupid, reckless side seemed to be on a roll right now, which wasn't exactly working very well for the rest of me and I wasn't even going to dodge the inevitable blow now; I knew it was coming and it'd be easier to get it over with.

"You know what, I'm fucking over with you!" He screams back and my teeth sink down into my lip, slicing into the pink flesh in a horrible attempt to hide my panic inside the quaking shell I call my body. But, he doesn't hit me. "Get out!" Before I can comprehend what he's saying, he grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me down the stairs. I stumble over half of them put I manage to get to my feet and find myself still in one piece.

I don't know what to do. I'm horribly confused, my instincts are screaming at me to run, but curiosity easily gets the better of me and I find myself glancing up at his beady eyes. "Out of my house." Yes, your house that you pay nothing towards. "Out of my fucking house!" He's screaming at me now and it finally seems to sink in.

He's finally getting rid of me. I don't know how to feel, I'm panicking, but I'm also horribly glad and I shouldn't- His eyes narrow and I don't need further warning before sprinting down the hall and out the front door. I head the only place I know, I head to my home, my real home, that is.

-

I walking down an alley way. It's horribly dark and my insides are screaming. The darkness is squeezing me, wrapping it's slimly fingers around me and pulling my frame down, pulling me deep through into the abyss.

"Fag!" I panic, thinking my father has somehow followed me, but I don't recognise the voice, it's younger and has a tone of intelligence that my father's accent doesn't quite manage. I turn in the direction of the voice, but of course God would have it so the alley's too dark to make out even the brief outline of a figure.

"It can't see us," a second voice snivels. 'It'? I'm almost offended.

Then before I can comprehend the situation, I'm being tackled and pushed to the ground, my face slamming against the concrete and slowly, one by one my senses fade out and I lose my grip on reality.

"Gay boy." I didn't want those to be the last wors I'd hear and I didn't want to know who's mouth they were from.

I peal my eyelids up one final time and catch a glimpse of blonde hair and a smirk, then I succumb to the blackness. I succumb to them.

Then all I see is red.