Chapter 9 - House sharing and happiness

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*Josh*

I felt empty.

Cold.

Numb.

Alone.

I had pushed Oliver away and I was paying for it. I wondered how he was faring. Surely not like me. My ribs were visible. Bruising was apparent everywhere on my skin. I stopped showing up for class and work because it got so bad. Not that anyone cared.

Damien was nothing but a cold hearted bastard. He was spending more time beating the shit out of me than being with my mum, when that was what he was beating me up for. Such a fucking hypocrite.

Not that I could complain. The guilt I felt was colossal. My dad had died because of me. The family had fallen apart because of me. It was all my fault. I sat on my sofa, holding my head in my hands, on the verge of tears. Again.

Oliver was gone. I had shut him out of my life. And I regretted it. Oliver had kept me sane, kept me smiling. It physically tore me apart to push him away but I didn't want him getting hurt by Damien or me. But as a result, I lost appetite. I couldn't think straight. Oliver was gone. I never got to tell him how in love with him I was. How he completed my world, how any time I saw him I was filled with a feeling that could not be tamed; love.

Mum was depressed. I wasn't at school or working. Damien was an abusive prick. Dad was dead. Our family was a mess. A tear rolled down my cheek, and then I heard the front door open. Damien had a key; he had helped himself on our first meeting.

I heard him coming down the hallway and sighed, resigning myself to more pain. The living room door opened.

"Oh, look, there you are, you little, fucking, prick," he spat at me, his icy blue eyes boring into mine. I hated that I had the same eyes as him. I treasured them because Oliver adored them to no end, but they were the same as my brothers.

I didn't even reply. I just sat there, staring at him, waiting for it to begin. Sure enough…

"I've just been to see mum. She's a fucking wreck. And it's all your fault!" he bellowed at me. I flinched, my chest constricting in guilt. His fist swung and I shut my eyes, cringing away, but it connected with my face and I yelped as pain erupted in my face.

I swallowed and opened my eyes, staring at my brother pleadingly, but he wouldn't stop. His eyes were craze-filled, angry, disgusted. I deserved it but I wanted to run away. I wanted to run away from it all.

He punched me again. And again. He kicked me in the ribs. My body was burning in pain and tears stung my eyes, wondering how anyone could do this to their brother. I started to crawl towards my bedroom but he kept kicking me, following me. He'd broken the table and I felt the sharp, splintered edge drag across my arm and winced.

I pulled myself up onto my bed, wincing as I strained my bruises, and then he gave me one last blow to the head. His raging, livid eyes and clenched, trembling fists were the last thing I saw before I passed out.

~*~*~

Too bright. The lights were too bright. They hurt my pounding head. I groaned slightly at the pain and squeezed my eyes shut, then suddenly I started to think. My apartment lights were surely not working due to no electricity bills being paid. So where was I?

Slowly, I opened my eyes and this time they adjusted more to the brightness. It was clean, large, and white. I blinked. A hospital. Why…?

Oh, right. Damien beat the shit out of me. Again. But that still didn't explain how I got here. He wouldn't have brought me here; he was too cold hearted, and he would have had to explain where I got the injuries from, and they might bust his sorry ass. So who…?

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