(DISCONTINUED) Stopping Time | Book 1 : Kill For Love | {Septiplier AU}

Chapter 18

*TRIGGER WARNINGS* U HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

~Jack's POV~
(OMG IKR :0 It's been so long~)

Mark dropped me off at my house before he walked back to his own. I sighed as I reached into my pocket and fished out the house key and unlocked the door to the place that I would call home for the next 81 hours.

"Jaysus fookin' Christ! Where te hell have ye ben?!" The thick Irish accent echoed throughout the house as he stormed downstairs. The man that I had once been so happy to see after years became the man that I feared my whole life once again. He had his brass knuckles equipped on his hand. Specks of red were dotted every knuckle, specks of red that I had involuntarily donated. His eyes were dull and his irises were nowhere to be found - just a void of emotionless hatred. "SEÁN WILLIAM MCLOUGHLIN!!" The anger in his voice was prominent. I peered over at the stairway and ducked into the supply closet underneath it and shut it quietly as the man went into the kitchen in search of a young adult to fuck up. I listened as his footsteps trailed into the lounge. I made sure that no noise was produced as I began my great escape into my room. I would say that I made it there with no problem, but, unfortunately, the man had caught me by the collar as I ran upstairs.

I was aggressively thrown against the wall before he punched me in the gut and threw me back down 6 of the steps. "Where te fook have ye been all night! By Jaysus, ye be lucky I don't break yer neck over me knee!" He picked me up and, yet again, punched me in the midriff. I coughed up some blood as I attempted to speak, muttering curses to my body for letting me bleed. For being so fucking weak. For being everything that everyone told me that I was. For being stupid. For being me. For being alive.

The man that used to play catch with me on the weekends grabbed me by the throat and pinned me to the wall of the stairwell. And I loved it. It burned at first, but as I ran out of oxygen, I couldn't feel the pain in my body anymore. I couldn't feel anything anymore. My arms and legs dangled lifelessly, and my eyelids felt heavy. It was complete bliss. Time stood still. My father's raging eyes now stared blankly at me, there was no movement in the house. No sound. No color. Nothing. Everything bad in my life was leaving my empty body behind. And I smiled. I smiled because I was free. Free from all the pain. Free from the abuse, the torment, the suffering. Free from life. And I smiled. I smiled as I died. And it was amazing. I felt so alive as I left the world.

Unfortunately, he let go of me. I crashed against the floor and gasped for air as blood clogged my throat and escaped from the corner of my mouth. Every part of me screamed except for the one part of me that allowed my voice to escape. Before I could catch my breath, the man who had loved his family so much punched me on my left temple and kicked the back of my thigh. I fell onto the floor and held the part of my head that he struck. He took the opportunity to drag me up stairs and throw me into my bedroom. "Ye better get to bed! Don't try ta pull anything funny!" He punched me on the same side of my face, this time punching my lower jaw, sending me spiraling to the floor and he slammed the door behind him.

I got up, dazed, and stumbled to my closet. I grabbed my extra pair of Vans, my leather jacket, and a change of clean clothes. I stared, distastefully, at my wretched face in the mirror. Discontented with my ability to be strong and fight back, I searched my bathroom cabinets and drawers.

I haven't used you in years, I thought as I took hold of the razor. People are liars... they'll say they love you and never prove it. I ran the blade across my left wrist. No one has ever cared about you... you are worthless. Another slit. You're all alone, except for me... Two more. Abused... Teased... Defenseless... Needy... You're a fucking idiot who doesn't deserve anything. Now the right arm. There's no way he loves you... he only pities you... Blood drips onto the white, tile floor. You don't deserve Mark... you don't deserve happiness... you only deserve a grave... Salty tears mix with red. No one deserves a freak like you and you know it.

I look up and see him standing there, staring right back at me, a cheeky grin plastered onto his face. "I can help you. Just let me out." He chuckles and disappears.

I sigh as I stumble back and slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the bathroom floor. I glance at each of my wrists as they bled. Pleased, I reached for the first-aid kit.

I took out the bandages and wrapped them around each of my wrists, up to the middle of my forearm. I didn't bother to clean the blood off the tiles or the sink; I just didn't want him to see this beat-up face. I washed off my face in the bloody sink (I PROMISE THIS AIN'T BRITISH WORDPLAY) and sat at my open window. Why the man hadn't thought about the low ledge by my window is a mystery. I mean, hello have you NOT seen those teens in the movies. Always sneaking out their house through the roof ledge by their window and every parent decides, "Hey, let's put our teenage, rebellious child in the room with the perfect escape window!" Anyways, I'm getting off track here, aren't I? I'm telling a story, right? Nah, my life isn't that interesting.

You:
"Hey, can u come over?"
"It's important"

Marzi 👸🏻:
"Yea, what's up?"

You:
"Tell ya l8r"

-TIME SKIP A-ROONEY TOONY-

Marzia left 10 minutes after arriving, but I made sure to thank her before she left. When she disappeared down the street, I started my trek to a place where relief and happiness live.