Tragic Jøshler Øne Shøts

Seventh

Trigger warning: mentions of domestic sexual assault, mentions of self-harm, mentions of suicide, drug use

Tyler's been a victim of sexual assault ever since he was a child. His father would tear his trousers off him and... do you really want to know?

Tyler's mother died giving birth to him. Losing his childhood love, Tyler's father was devastated.

Tyler's father's name was Josh. He became a drinker right after his wife's funeral. But the alcohol wasn't such a big influence on him; he wouldn't even drink a lot.

The only way he could let his sadness and anger out appeared to be hurting his son. It was Tyler's fault anyway. Tyler was a murderer and he needed to be punished.

And Josh was going to punish him.

Tyler was getting raped from before he knew his own name. At first, he didn't understand anything. But as years went by, Tyler started feeling the pain in the worst possible way. He'd scream and beg for somebody - anybody - to come and save him. Nobody ever arrived. He was just left to his misery, every single day.

The misery made him seek help in all the wrong places. He was soon a cocaine addict. The drug made him feel free, it numbed down the pain he had to go through every day at home. It made the pain into something enjoyable, actually. Thus Tyler started seriously wanting sex with his Dad.

But nobody cares. Nobody cares about them.

A drunken widower who rapes his son who is a cocaine addict. Awesome.

This one night in particular, Tyler and Josh sat at their dining table. It was just enough to fit two people. The table was filled with newspapers, random papers, flyers, even cards. Tyler was seventeen at this point. They started playing a game with cards, but neither of them could remember the rules so they abandoned the game. They didn't care to put the cards away somewhere. No, nothing was ever tidy in their home. God knows when was the last time either of them washed the dishes. God knows when was the last time they actually washed a piece of clothing.

Josh would really just stop to think sometimes. Why- How the hell are they still alive? He was actually quite surprised nobody from the social services ever came to check on the environment they live in. He was actually lucky to not have had Tyler taken away from him.

He didn't want Tyler taken away and brought to a happy home. He didn't want Tyler dead. No, he just wanted his only son to suffer. Hopefully the kid will kill himself.

But Tyler saw nothing like that since he became an addict. Tyler enjoyed the rape, purely because he didn't feel it as it actually was anymore. He felt nothing but the grin on his face. Josh insulted him whenever they'd "talk", but Tyler heard no negativity in any of those words.

In one way, cocaine saved his life. If he wouldn't have started using, he'd be depressed and sad; probably cutting his wrists and sneaking ropes into the apartment, planning his suicide. Cocaine made him happy, even if he was not.

Josh didn't even know his son was an addict. He just figured Tyler laughed through the pain because the boy was retarded or something. Josh would be very pleased with himself if he found out he managed to mentally wound his disgrace of a son.

But back to tonight; Josh actually lied the cards on the table. He didn't know the name of this game, nor the rules. He arranged the numbers of cards on both his and Tyler's side of the table.

Josh kept his eyes glued to Tyler's thin body. Tyler was rocking in his chair, his hands were shaking. Josh couldn't help but grin. He rose his beer bottle and took a longer sip. With the glass object still in his hand, he shook the table "Hey!"

Tyler jumped in his seat, alerted "What?"

Josh nodded at the cards, kicking Tyler's leg under the table. The sting on his weak bones made him sit up straight and frown at the colorful papers that lied before him.

He stared at the cards in deep thought for a while. He eventually gave up and just sat back into his chair. He rubbed his left cheek with his dirty and sweaty palm, feeling awfully sleepy. Josh shook his head at the boy.

Josh placed his beer bottle aside, rising up the newspaper from three weeks ago. He wasn't sure which day it was today. But it's not like he cares anyways.

The lightbulb above their heads turned itself on and off a billion times. Tyler would twitch whenever that'd happen, even though it's been happening for probably ten years now.

Tyler exhaled loudly and shakily, accidentally pushing his chair back a little, almost falling backwards off it; Josh didn't even notice. Tyler blinked twice, looking up at his Dad.

What an awful man, Tyler thought. In Tyler's eyes, Josh was a terrible man; but that would mean a terrible man makes Tyler happy. Tyler was highkey conflicted.

He was never allowed to insult his father nor was he allowed to comment any of Josh's actions. He had to deal with everything silently.

But the substance in his system wanted to talk.

"You're so dumb, Dad!" Tyler spat, pushing the many newspapers toward Josh.

In shock, Josh's eyes widened. He angrily shoved a few newspapers aside and revealed an old-ish revolver. He fast picked it up and shakily - due to the alcohol inside him - pointed the weapon at his son

BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM

Josh panted, dropping the weapon to the floor and cursing out loud.

The neighbors didn't care the slightest bit about the gunshot, thus the teenager's body was only found a year later. Josh was taken to prison.