The Broken Boy

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It has been about two weeks since I moved to London and I have a confession. I am absolutely, undeniably in love with Liam. The only one who knows this is Harry. He knows from years ago that I was gay so I had no problem telling him.

Liam and I have gotten really close. He walks home with me every day after school and we either go to his or my house.

I was standing outside the school in our normal meet up spot and I let my mind wander. It landed on Liam. We played football today and since it was an odd day and it was warm, Liam had taken off his shirt. His lightly tanned skin glowed in the sunlight and I smiled at the image in my head.

"Hey, Ni!" Liam called as he ran over catch up with me.

I nodded. I still didn't talk much, but the smile on my face from thinking about him just got even bigger.

"How was your day?" He asked.

"The same as yours, except I have Calculus and you have Pre Calculus." I joked quietly.

He laughed, loudly, causing heads to spin towards us.

I blushed, not liking being the center of attention, and ran around the building.

I got to the corner and ducked behind it, looking back. I saw Liam looking around with a slightly confused look on his face. His face scrunched up with what I could only describe as sadness as he spun around in circles looking for me. I saw him fish in his pocket before taking out his phone. Punching something in, he lifted it to his ear.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, making me jump. I pulled it out.

Liam Calling...

Popped up on the screen. I smirked.

"Hello?" I said quietly.

"Hey, Ni. Where'd you go?" his face lit up as I answered.

"Oh you know. Home?" I joked, watching his facial expression fall from the excitement it took up from when I answered, to pure and utter sadness.

"Wha-? You left me here?" He asked sadly. I heard him sniffle and my head shot up. Even from my hiding point a good 30 meters away, I could see a single tear slip from his eye.

"What? No! Liam, don't cry!" I said, forgetting I told him I was at home.

I heard the familiar tone which said he had hung up and I watched as he ran away.

He ran and ran. Wow he can run forever. I had to stop halfway home and walk, panting as I tried to get my breath back.

When I got home, the door was cracked open. Thinking the worst, I checked out the rooms and ran into the kitchen, grabbing a sharp knife and walking around the house, looking to see what could have opened the door.

The last room I checked was mine. I walked in slowly, turning around and around. Once I was sure the house was empty, I started walking to put the knife up.

I stopped when I got to the bathroom door. Debating for a bit, then I ducked inside, locking the door behind me.

I sat down on the floor with my back against the wall. I sighed. I hadn't cut for a week. That may not be long for some people, but for me, that would be equal to months. I carefully took off the bracelets on my right wrist and I traced the old, faded, and recent scars that were lining my wrists. I shuffled around, pulling off my pants and shirt and sat there in my boxers, just looking at the scars that lined my ribs, thighs, hips, and wrists. There were close to a thousand scars at least. There was about to be more.

I picked up the knife and, positioning it in my left hand, I touched it to my wrist, feeling its sharpness. I slowly pressed down, satisfaction pulsing through me as I watched the crimson liquid come from either side of the blade.

I scratched five lines into my wrist, pulling back to watch the blood flow out.

I took the knife again and slid it down near my ribs, causing droplets of blood to spring up from there as well. I repeated this five times as well. From there, I went to my hips, pulling down my boxer waistband slightly, and lining five cuts side by side on each hip. After that, were my thighs. These were the ones I cut deeper on. I cut five times on each thigh, mesmerized by the deep red colour mixing with the paleness of my skin. That familiar dizzy feeling came back and I let myself slip gratefully into darkness.

I woke up however long later. I stood up, feeling a bit weak. I looked down, seeing the blood streaking down my legs and sighed. I grabbed a dark colored towel and took off all my clothing, turning on the shower and climbing in. Feeling the scalding hot water made me almost forget the reason I cut. My dad.

Yes, my dad. I hate going through it again, so every time it happened, I wrote it down, the dates, times, and the injuries I had from it.

Basically, my dad raped me while beating me at the same time. Many times. I'd still be a virgin if it wasn't for him.

I stepped out of the shower, spilling steam around the room, and dried my body, careful around the now tender wounds.

I walked into my room, glancing at the clock. It read 12:03. What?! It was past midnight?! How long was I unconscious?! I got home at 3:30 and I went straight to the bathroom, so almost six hours!!! Holy shit.

I walked to my closet, pulling out a long sleeved V-neck t shirt and flannel pants. I grabbed a pair of boxers and then I got dressed. I made my way downstairs.

I start to look in the refrigerator for some food. Coming to the conclusion that there is no food, I decide to walk down to the store at the end of the street.

I got the groceries I needed and walking back to the house, I heard footsteps behind me. Feeling a little uncomfortable, I started walking a little faster. They also sounded louder, and closer. I started running now, also, again, hearing the unknown person run as well.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I let out a blood curling scream.