Tribulation»Muke AU

Prologue (Michael's POV)

trib·u·la·tion

ˌtribyəˈlāSHən/

noun

a cause or state of great trouble or suffering.

16, October, 2011

"Get out! Get out of my house you freak!"

Blood is running down my arms.

"Your insane! Where did we go wrong with you?"

My vision is getting blurry, and its not from the tears.

"Why are you so fucked up?!"

Its getting so dark. And cold. I'm falling I'm falling I'm falling down into this black hole.

"We don't want you back."

All the sudden, it swallows me up.

...

I open my eyes to see a plain room with light blue walls and brown furniture with light blue fabric to match. It smells like a hospital. It is a hospital, I realize. There's a tube protruding from the back of my hand and there is bandages all up my arms. Soon, a man walks in carrying a clipboard.

"Hello Michael, I'm dr. Roberts," He states. I just nod and look down at my hands which rest in my lap.

"Your parents are here to see you, we can talk more after their visit." Dr. Roberts says. "Before I leave you to yourself, I need to ask you a question,"

"Okay," I say so quietly I'm surprised he heard me.

"Did you do this to yourself?" He gestures toward my arms.

I nod.

"I see. Well, I'll come back and check on you later," He says. I nod. I lay my head back on the pillows, I feel exhausted, from blood loss I guess.
A few seconds later, my parents walk in with looks of barely concealed disgust on their faces.
"Michael, we need to talk to you." My mother says. I look up at them with curious eyes, not having enough energy to speak.
"We think we're better off without having to worry about you."
You never worry about me.
"What your mother is trying to say is," my dad snaps, "we don't think you should come back to our house, you can get your stuff and leave once your recovered."
"It will better for our well-being." My mom adds.
Your well-being? What about mine?
With that they turn and leave, leaving me stranded there, my mouth agape and silent tears dripping down my face.

I feel anger course through me like red, hot lava. I rip the tube out of my hand and rip off the bandages, revealing many stitches running through the deep cut all up my forearm. I wish I had died that night. I push the blankets off and stand up while attempting to rip out the stitches. I pull at the wires until they're too slick with blood to get ahold of. The long cut running from my palm to the inside of my elbow on my left forearm is now dripping with blood again as I work the stitches out of my right arm. I feel so lightheaded and I just need to sit down, I aim my butt towards the chair but I miss and fall on the floor. I think I might be screaming, or crying, or both, I'm not sure. A nurse runs in and maybe calls out to another nurse, I'm not sure of that either. The ringing in my ears is too loud.

...

When I wake up again, I'm in the same room but I'm not alone. Dr. Roberts stands there with his hands clasped behind his back.

Why did you have to save me? Can't you see I don't want to be saved? Could I make my death wish any clearer?
There's a feeling of anger and dread in the pit of my stomach.

"Hello, again, Michael." He says with a sad look on his face. "I think you need to consider this." he hands out a pamphlet for what looks like a mental hospital. I begin to shake my head but he starts talking again.

"I've talked to your parents and they think it's a good idea."

"Could I have another chance?" I ask quietly.

"I'm afraid no-"

"It was just a really bad day, I swear nothing like this will happen again." I cut him off desperately.

"...Okay. But if we ever see you here again for the same reason you are now, you won't have a choice." Dr. Roberts says. I nod eagerly.

A few hours later, after they've given me pain medication and instructions on how to care for my stitches, which I didn't really listen to, they let me go home. Luckily, my wallet was in my pocket when I was taken to the hospital so I have money to take the bus. The bus ride was a bad experience, seeing as my bandaged arms were on display since the lack of long sleeves.

Once I get home I try to open the door as quietly as possible, but my mom hears me.

"Ron? Is that you?" she calls out. She walks out of the kitchen and when she sees it's me, a look of disappointment crosses her face.

"Hi," I say quietly. She crosses her arms.

"Get your things, I want you leave my house-" she is cut off by the door opening and my dad coming in.

I look down at my feet. "We don't want you anymore, we can't to deal with you and your borderline personality."

I push passed them and run up to my room. I'm trying my hardest not to let my tears run down my face. I take a deep breath and furiously wipe at my face as I pack a few of my possessions into a bag. I grab my acoustic guitar, put it in it's case, and bring it downstairs along with my backpack.

"I was just leaving," I say, not looking any of them in the eye.

"Good, and don't come back." My mom says. I faintly hear my brother, John, yell "wait!" as I slam the door. It's freezing out, I should have brought a jacket. I feel an overwhelming feeling of sadness wash over me as I walk aimlessly. I finally find a decent place to sit and try to earn some change. I decided that I am never going back to that house. I take out my guitar and start strumming.

"Is there a right way for how this goes?

You've got your friends and you've got your foes

They want a piece of something hot

Forget your name like they forgot.

Oh, ain't that something?"

A boy, probably around my age, with blond hair, a little bit of acne, and a lip ring tosses some coins into my guitar case. I continue singing as he moves along.

"Some wanna see you crash and burn

And criticize your every word

I'm trying to keep from going insane

Ain't that they way of this whole damn thing?

Nobody's gonna love you if you can't display a way to capture this

nobody's gonna hold your hand

And guide you through

No it's up for you to understand

When all is done

And its time for you to walk away

So when you have today

You should say all that you have to say."

That was the first night I spent on the streets, but not my last.

A/N:

Hi, this just the prologue of this story and if people like it I'll post chapter one! (Haha but srsly even if nobody reads this imma post it anyways) Just a warning though, this story will probably get updated once a week but when school starts it might take a little longer, but we'll see. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this story! Btw, wattpad keeps putting commas before the last quotation mark so if you see a random comma that doesn't belong, tell me and I'll fix it :3

toodles.