As I made my way into the house I tried to be as quiet as possible with the hopes that my dad had passed out from the alcohol and I would therefore be able to escape a beating.
I snuck through the front door and walked up the stairs, but when I was almost at the top the step gave out a loud creaking noise. My breathing hitched as I listened for any signs of my dad , when I established that the coast was clear I continued my way to get to my room. just when I made it to the top floor I heard my father sprinting up the stairs towards me. my eyes widened in fear and I ran the rest of the way to my bedroom,and just when I locked my door father caught up with me and started banging on the door, sending curse words and insults at me "at least verbal abuse is better than physical" i thought to myself as i slid down the wall and curled up on the floor as a weak attempt to block out my fathers hurtful words.
After what appeared to be a lifetime he finally passed out against my door,This was the moment i had been waiting for. I tip toed my way into the connected bathroom and rolled up my long sleeves. I took a moment to examine my arms, Red and a couple of more faded scares scattered both of my wrists like a silent call for help. There was a part of me that wanted to tell someone but after all i didn't want someone else to be stuck with a burden like me. Besides if what my dad told me was true then i really did deserve it so who says anyone else will treat me any differently. It's safest to just keep my mouth shut.
**********trigger warning **********
I searched around the bathroom for a while since i always hide it from my dad because he would just think that i'm weaker then i already am, but i found in the bottom left drawer next to some hair products,My blade. I picked it up from the drawer,admiring how it glistened in the light of the bathroom before carefully bringing it towards my left wrist. I didn't even flinch from the pain since i had grown accustomed to it and watched as my blood slowly left my wrist and down to the bathroom floor. I made several cuts one from each negative thing about me i could think of, in the end i must have had about 30 new cuts on my delicate wrists. When i was finished i stopped for a second and just enjoyed the feeling of relieve that washed over me as i watched the blood drain from my malnourished body. after a while i snapped out of my daze,cleaned up the cuts and got into bed.
YOU ARE READING
The Foster Kid
FanfictionI suck at these so... Michael had a rough childhood. His mom died when he was little and his dad didn't take it well. So what happens when Ashton, one of Michaels teachers finds out just how bad his homelife has become? I promise the book is better...
