Zack's P.O.V
I walked into my house covered in rain. My dad had forgotten to pick me up or he probably just didn't care enough.
" Ashton, is that you " My father called out from his office.
Everyday he'd ask the same question. It's almost been 4 months since my big brother disappeared and I don't think he's coming back.
" No sir, it's just me " I replied.
He walked out of his office and glared at me before pulling something from a little cabinet he had.
" I found this in your room " He showed me my guitar.
" What were you doing in my room " I started getting angry but he was visibly more angry than I was.
" The real question is what was this waste of time doing in your room " He spat.
" I just keep it around for fun. I barely ever play it " I lied.
" So you don't mind if I play around with it do you " He smirked evilly.
" Umm.. no. No of course go ahead " I gulped.
He took the guitar and started strumming it lightly. Then all of a sudden he started messing up the strings until all the strings were damaged.
" Can I have it back now " I sighed. At least I could still fix it.
" No, I still want to play around with it for a while " He walked into the kitchen with my guitar.
" What are you doing dad " I asked genuinely scared of what my dad might be capable of.
" It's sir to you and I just want to see if a guitar is fireproof " He replied.
Then he grabbed the lighter he used to light up his cigars and lit up my guitar.
I watched in horror as it burned into flames. And my dad stood there laughing.
" Oops. Well it's not that bad considering you don't use it " He laughed.
" How could you do that " I cried.
" Shut up " He ordered.
" Why can't you man up a little. He more like your brother. Look at you crying for a toy. If you want me to be proud of you, then you have to stop acting like a child and act more like your brother." He continued yelling at me.
I sighed before walking upstairs to my room, my eyes blurry from the tears.
I sat on my bed and thought about the guitar he had burned. Sure I had another guitar at school but that one meant a lot to me.
My mom gave me that guitar when I was seven and she would always ask me to play for her when my father wasn't home.
Then when I turned eight, my mother died and every time I missed her, I would grab my guitar and sing the song we always used to sing together.
" If every word I said, could make you laugh I'd talk forever " I quietly hummed to my mothers favorite song as the tears continued streaming down my face.
I started walking towards the bathroom as I continued singing that song.
I locked the doors because I knew exactly what I was going to do and my father would kill me if he found out.
No, I wasn't liking myself. Suicide is for the weak. It's better to suffer than to die.
I grabbed a blade from the second drawer and sat down in the floor with it in my hands.
I stared at it. I don't want to have to do this but I just can't stop.
I slid the blade on my arms. Two for my father. Two more for my brother who left me alone to deal with him. And five for my mom who I miss more than anything.
My mom was the only person who actually understood me. She taught me everything I knew. She would play with me, help me with my homework, bake for me, sing with me and most importantly, she was always there for me.
She loved me as much as I lost her. But she died. All because my father refused to give money to some people.
It's all his fault. He was a millionaire but he couldn't give those people what they wanted.
And they warned him that they were going to come for his wife but he didn't listen.
And all because of his stubbornness, not only did he lose his wife but I lost my mother.
And now he took the last thing I had that reminded me of her.
I'm sitting here on the floor of my bathroom in a pool of blood but the only pain I felt was emotional.
Thinking about my mother wasn't painful but the thought of losing the only thing that connected us hurt. A lot.
I quickly stood up because it was almost dinner time and I was starving.
If I wasn't at the table by 7 o'clock, my father would throw away my part of the food.
" You need to lose weight if you want to stay in shape like Ashton " he would always say.
I quickly cleaned up the bathroom floor along with my arms and took of my bloody shirt.
I changed into a new long sleeved shirt before making my way downstairs.
My dad was already there so I served myself and sat down without saying a single word.
" You're going to eat all that!? Are you trying to gain weight " he scolded me.
" It's only a bowl of ramen " I rolled my eyes.
" Thats too much! " he exclaimed.
" Well I'm really hungry " i retorted stuffing my face with ramen noodles.
" Fine. Do what you want. But his is the reason you're so fat " he spat.
" On second thought, I'm not that hungry " I pushed my bowl away and walked upstairs.
Yes I was still hungry but I was tired of my father and his hurtful comments.
I walked into the bathroom and did what I always do. I tried to replace the emotional pain with physical pain.
And it fucking worked.
