Dying In LA ||Frerard/Ryden/Petekey||

Daddy Issues Part Two

a/n: made a part two

Frank's POV:

I heard the door swing open and hit the wall, the doorknob banging, leaving a dent in the drywall.

The smell of alcohol flooded my room, the harsh odor making my eyes water.
Heavy footsteps filled the room.

It was pitch black, except for the sliver of light that miraculously made it through the slim opening in the doorway.
A cold draft blew into my room, I shivered, teeth chattering.
At this point, I don't know if it's from the cold or fear of what's to come.

"Come here, boy." A loud, masculine voice echoed through the empty room.

I tugged the shirt, far too large for me, back up onto my shoulder, just for it to slide down again.

Pain shot through my arm as a strong grip pulled me up to my feet, probably leaving red, angry hand-shaped marks on my thin arm.

"I told you to come here, boy." He spat.

"I'm so- sorry sir. It won't happen aga-"

"Shut up!" He screamed, hitting me across the head, his rings being the worst part of it.

I fell limp, the only thing holding me up was him.
With a loud thud, I fell onto the hard floor.
Grossly warm liquid oozed from the cut down my hand as I held my head in my hands, crying silently to myself.

Salty tears dripped onto the floor quietly.
I let out a small whimper, scolding myself mentally.

You stupid, good-for-nothing crybaby. Stop pouting, you're okay.

"Shut up." I whispered.

You're a failure. You'll never go anywhere in life. You'll die before you even turn 18.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP ALREADY. I KNOW." I screamed.

"What the hell did you just say to me?" My father growls.

"I'm sorry I was talking to myself again." I said quickly, hoping I can avoid punishment.

Look at you. Pathetic. Your own Dad hates you. So does your Mom. You're an idiot.
Bad boy.
No good.

"GET IN THE FUCKING CORNER. I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR FUCKING DISGUSTING FACE FOR THE NEXT THREE DAYS." He yelled.

At this point, saying sorry would make things much worse.
I silently obeyed and crawled into the dark, musty corner of the room.
Sniffling, my stomach began to growl.

"Oh yeah, don't expect food for at least another week, your mother is on another one of her buissness trips."
I could sense him turn his back to me and begin walking out of the room.

"Fucking faggot" He whispered under his breath.

But I still heard it.