The Pain, Redux(Ivy x Abused Male Reader Rewrite)

1: How I Live

Quick note before you read, this is, as the title states, a redo of my story, The Pain..., so you will get a gist of the story by reading that. Post-completion, I looked back through the story to find a number of plot points I missed, and a number of people pointed out things I have done wrong. This is my attempt to fix those, while improving the story. I hope you enjoy.

   Birds singing and the cold of the stone garage floor was what brought you to consciousness. You slightly squirmed underneath the newspaper blanket you used, as shivering overcame your body. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting out the air you had in what sounded like a whimper. After a minute of this violent shivering, you gave up, and forced yourself to get up. You really didn't want to.

  You took a deep breath as you sat up, scooting over to a filing cabinet. You opened the dusty drawer to reveal a school uniform for Phoenix Drop high, your high school. You grabbed it, and started to get changed, shivering from the cold air.

  As you fastened the belt, which seemed like it was close to falling apart, you heard heavy footsteps walking through the kitchen, towards the garage door. Probably your mother.

  True to your prediction, the door burst open, revealing the woman herself.

  "Get your lazy ass up!" She yelled, before noticing you in your school uniform. She sneered.

  "Fine then. Get breakfast ready." She growled, before slamming the door and walking off. You stayed silent, walking towards the door. You grabbed the handle, and opened the door to reveal the kitchen, which, along with the house, was almost spotless. Give three guesses as to why.

  You swallowed before lightly moving to shut the door, leaving it slightly open, and walking to the counter. The waffle iron you had set up from last night stood on the counter, alongside the coffee pot. You walked over, grabbing a bag of waffle mix and a container of coffee grounds. You looked around, confirming the absence of your parents from the room, and got to work. You quickly mixed up waffle batter in a bowl, and got a pot of coffee ready. As it was slowly filling, you made waffles. The iron made it easy, and how blind your parents were made it easier. After making four waffles, you started on a fifth, before looking around again. Swiftly, you turned around, and speed-walked to the garage, grabbing your backpack, and bringing it to the kitchen. Slightly opening the bag, you grabbed an empty container, stopping to flip the waffle iron, and stuffed three of the waffles you made into it. Shoving it in your bag, you next grabbed a thermos. Walking back, you filled it with coffee, before putting it in your bag. You looked around the kitchen, you grabbed a sizable apple from a fruit bowl, and put that in your bag as well. Nodding at your work, you got started on another waffle. As that cooked, you continued your raid. Sneaking leftover spaghetti from last night into your bag, you felt paranoia start to settle in your head. You needed to finish this quickly, or your parents would get suspicious. You quickly grabbed a few snacks from a cupboard, careful not to let the wrappers make noise, you put those in your bag as well. For the last step, you opened the fridge and grabbed coffee creamer, along with two water bottles. Placing the cream on the counter, you shoved the bottles in your bag, and got the next waffle cooking. You poured coffee into two mugs, and added cream, and put some biscuits from a previous morning into the microwave. Finishing the waffles, you started to set up the plates. Two waffles a plate, a square of butter on each, with syrup, a biscuit on the side, and coffee to finish. You set forks on both plates, before walking to your bag, filled with your sustenance, and putting it on. You pushed the garage door shut just as your father walked downstairs.

  "Breakfast ready?" He asked, in his rather hoarse voice. Your father was a husky man, with a bit of a beer belly. If it weren't for the traits he shared with you, being his eyes and skin tone, you almost couldn't believe you were his son. You nodded at his question, and he grunted.