King for a day (kellic)

0.1

Love is stupid. It's not real. At least not with me. I used to believe in it. I used to believe that everyone had someone who truly loved them, despite floors and imperfections. But that's insane. Love is just a false sense of security, convincing naive people that there's good in the world. If love was real, I wouldn't be where I am now. Love isn't supposed to suddenly stop just because you've changed. But that's how I ended up in this life, right? I ended up with bruises constantly scattered over my body because of love, love from my parents.
More specifically my father, he used to care about me. He used to "love" me, but the second he found out I was a homosexual, the beatings began. They started off okay, with just small bruises from being pushed around, but now they're huge. I'll end up with a black eye and bruises all over my stomach after a good beating. I don't even want to talk about a bad one.
I got interrupted from my thoughts by shouting coming from downstairs. Did I mention that my father hurt my mother too? He thought it was her fault that I'm gay, that she hadn't raised me right or something like that.
"You fucking bitch! Stay on the ground!" He screamed.
I listened to his shouting for a few before minutes before I couldn't deal with my mother getting beaten anymore, so I opened my door and ran downstairs. I didn't realise how much of a mistake this would be until it happened. I met face to face with my seething father. He stared at me, before his cracked lips turned up into a manic smile.
"Ready for your beating huh Kell?"
I felt sick because of the nickname, but I didn't have time to think of that before I was pushed into the wall, all the air rushed out of my lungs and I had no time to recover as the man who once "loved" me kneed me in the stomach. I fell to the ground and tried to cover my stomach with my hands, but god, was that a mistake. He pushed them away and kicked me countless times. My head was spinning and everything hurt.
"You fucking deserve it, piece of shit, I'll beat the fag right out of you!" My father yelled as he kicked me.
I blacked out at some point, when I woke up, it was dark and everyone was gone. I heaved myself up off the ground and took tiny steps to my room.
As soon as I closed the door, my legs gave way and I collapsed onto the bed. Tears fell from my eyes, mostly from the pain. I knew I deserved it, I was worthless. No one cared about me, I had no friends and no family members to turn to. I was helpless, with only my abusive father to take care of me.
With these thoughts in my mind, I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, hoping that tomorrow would be better.
-
When I woke up, the first thing I felt was pain. Pain all over. I dragged myself out of bed, nearly falling a few times because it hurt so much. I made my way to the bathroom. The mirror reflected my image to me, and I was shocked at my appearance. I had a black eye, and tiny cuts all over my face. I lifted up my shirt and it was worse there. My whole stomach was covered in disgusting bruises.
I ran the tap water and washed my face, trying to clean out the cuts. It stung like hell but I ignored that and continued anyway. When I was done, I pulled some of my mothers makeup out of the cupboard and tried my hardest to cover the black eye. After a while it was hardly noticeable. As long as I kept my head down all day, I'd be fine.
I walked out of the bathroom quietly and back into my room. I opened my closet and pulled out some black jeans, a band shirt and my black toms. Quickly, I slipped them all on and grabbed a random jumper and my school bag before walking out the front door and to school.
The bell went just as I arrived at school. I made my way through the sea of people going to class. When I finally got to my locker, the halls were empty and eerily quiet. I got my books out and turned to go to class when I heard footsteps coming from around the corner.
"Look what we have here, the school faggot!" A voice I recognised laughed.
It was Vic Fuentes, as in top of the school Vic Fuentes. I rolled my eyes, not at all scared of him. He could never do anything worse to me than what my father did.
This seemed to anger him. He liked to have authority, he liked people to be scared of him, so obviously when he noticed I wasn't trying to plead for my safety like most people are when he targets him, he became pissed off.
"Late for school, huh?" He laughed "That's against the rules."
I snorted, of course because he always followed the rules (note the sarcasm).
"I'm sure you know all about the school rules." I challenged.
He glared at me, I could see his fists clenching and unclenching. At this point most people would be terrified, but I was finding it quite amusing, really.
"Hmm maybe I should punish you." He smirked, trying to look calm but I could see past that.
Again, I rolled my eyes "nah I'm good." I started to walk away.
At this point he was completely over my attitude. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and slammed me into the lockers behind me.
"You think you can talk to me like that and get away with it?" He seethed
I shrugged nonchalantly, not really caring what he did to me. He raised his fist and punched me straight in the gut. The bruises and cuts that were already there felt 10 times more painful after this, and I fell to the ground in front of him, clutching my stomach.
He snickered "pathetic."
I closed my eyes waiting for the pain to stop. I heard his footsteps walking away and gradually getting quieter. When I knew he was finally gone, I stood up again, grabbed my books and went to my first class, ignoring the ache in my stomach.