When Two Worlds Collide

Chapter 7 Part 4 (O.O)

(A/N- RIGHT. First of all, 150 READS! That is awesome :D Secondly, the reason there is a part four is because I didn't add this at the end of part 3 because I thought it might be too long, but then realised I was an idiot and I should have done it. I was going to include it somewhere later into the story instead. Then 150 reads happened and I thought it's a nice little present to anyone who likes reading this story (Thanks so much if you do!) So I did this quickly, so there might be mistakes. But I guess I'm bad at sticking to a writing schedule, so I'll just forget about that. But anyway, I hope you like this chapter! :D)

Aidan's POV

"I'm... Different." When I decided in my head that he had stopped talking, I pushed the hair out of his face to see the same, crystallised, watery wide eyes as before, and I could also feel that he was also shaking a lot. I put the coat I had on when I walked in around him, as I was doing so I smelt the horrible scent of alcohol on his breath. Oh fuck no. He must have had a few too many before he came down. I don't want to be the only one to remember this. I thought. To confirm my beliefs, though, I heard him mumble into my (now very wet) sleeve "I think I'm gonna vomit". I rushed over to the boxes in the corner of the room, only to find there to be nothing in them. Good enough I thought. I'm not being mean or trying to wreck their house, it's their fault for leaving the door open to the basement where they'll be a lot of drinking teenagers. Seriously.
After throwing what he ate last up, I gave him some water from the sink that was in the bedroom where Elijah was sleeping, and put it in an empty can. He swallowed most of it before sitting back down and pulling the sofa blanket over him. I smiled a little, purely because he looks so different compared to what everyone else saw. He was right though, I know he was. People were judging him, I could hear them, especially the stupid kids who have nothing better than to gossip or make up stuff about other people. I don't care whether or not you know how to spell your name, but it's plain mean when you start making fun of other people.
Before he fell asleep, however, I had to ask him about one thing that he still hadn't said about.

"H-hey," I made my voice softer, "What about that prison thing? Is that a rumour or something? If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay, I mean," I sure hoped it was a rumour. I don't know what he did, but I hope it wasn't too serious.

"No, that... that happened. But it wasn't like what you think. It was only six months, I could've gone for years, but I didn't. I would be lying if I said I didn't do anything, though." I frowned, he was talking weirdly now.

"What do you mean?" Instead of talking to me, he pulled up his shirt, revealing a fain scar from his hip to the top of his ribs. Why hadn't I, or someone else, noticed this before?

"This was from my father. Before you ask how you haven't noticed it before, it's probably because I put makeup over it so people don't make a fuss. Once, I failed at a science class, so instead of telling me to work harder like my mam would, he took matters into his own hands. Which means, he got very drunk and thought it was a good idea to make that scar with a small knife he had. He said that if I went to the police, then when he came out of jail he would come back to kill me. So, out of fear, I patched the wound up myself, which wasn't too hard because it wasn't very deep, and instead told my mother. Do you know what? She thought her life was so flawless and perfect, that she thought I was joking! Again! I told her, I showed her my scar. She. Did. NOTHING. She thought it was all a joke, that someone would come out of the floor and say "Just kidding!" Or something. Mothers are supposed to listen to you aren't they? She could at least have done that! But instead, she sided with Dad, saying that the joke was getting old and I should get that fake scar removed before the teachers told me off for it.
So, one day, I got so upset and angry at her, that, well, I punched her. Once. I know it was a terrible thing, but it was partly her fault! She didn't even try to listen to me. Instead, she just laughed or smiled. When I punched her, she said that I'm getting too big to do that now, like. I was a seven year old who wanted to be carried! But I knew that punching or something wouldn't help, so I went to my room and locked myself in there for five days. Five fucking days, and she didn't even check on me. She thought everything was fine. I would have stayed longer in my room, but I was hungry. So I came downstairs, and I saw my Dad on the phone. I stayed away from him, afraid I would do something wrong to piss him off. But instead, after the obnoxiously long phone call, he said that I was in trouble.
After a while, I found out that he had come home to see his wife with a red cheek and he decided to make up a whole story about how I was some vicious by with anger problems. He even said that I tried to r-rape her, or murder her, and it went to court, and he won. Do you know why?" He paused to wipe the ever flowing tears from his eyes. "My mother agreed with him! My own mother, lied about me raping her and beating her up and trying to murder her. She made fake bruises and pretended to cry. But since there was only proof I beat her up do to the wounds, I only got 6 months in jail. I was a little because of that outcome, at least some justice had been found.
After I came out of prison, I asked her why she lied about me. She... She... She fucking said... That 'There are a lot of things a wife needs to do to help her marriage. It was only six months, think of your family for once. Stop being so selfish, okay?' That's literally.... Literally what she said! I remember it like I remember yesterday. Clear as day. C-clea..." He paused before bursting into more tears.
"Then people assumed again. They thought what they thought I did went perfectly with their horrible image of me. They didn't even bother to ask. They thought I beat up my own mother, that I was a terrible person and I shouldn't deserve to live if I could hurt her like that, but they had no idea! Their mothers were perfect people who listened, and always bought things for them, and everything else, not deciding to stick up for her crappy husband and lie in front of a judge, thinking everything is just a fucking joke, that I'm still five, or anything else that she does. They don't know that my father is an angry, drunk asshole. They think he's a perfect, honest person, that was cursed with a horrible son. They... Never... Even..." He didn't finish his sentence, but buried his face into my neck. I put my arms gently around him, resting on his neck, before falling asleep.

(A/N- Okaaaaaay dudes! That was fun :) The only thing I have to say really is thank youuuuuu all some much again for 150 reads! Yay! I know this is a bit of an ask, but can someone maybe make me a cover for this story? I just used a random pic I had :3 Apart from that, the song for this chapter part is Pumped Up Kicks by Foster The People! That song's really creepy if you listen to the lyrics, but I love FTP. Anyway, bye!)