Chapter Three- Past⚠️TW!(slurs, sexual assault, alcohol abuse, physical and mental abuse)⚠️
My birth father, Bill, had left when I was just about to turn one, leaving my mom alone to deal with her toddler. 12 years later, though, he decided to pop up out of nowhere and beg for a second chance. My mother, being the overly giving woman she is, let him come back into our lives. It didn't take long for it to go downhill.
When he'd first came back, I was cautious, obviously because he'd ran off earlier, but after a while I learned to trust him. Something was definitely off about him, but I felt like I could tell him anything, so I did. I came out to my father. That's when it all started.
It started pretty subtle, not enough to think about being reported, but not too little to be ignored. Most days he'd come home drunk out of his mind, and bring me into the empty room next to the stairs. He'd yell such random stuff that made no sense whatsoever, but eventually the yelling led to a slap, which led to a punch, which led to even more punches.
It began to be a normal thing for me to hide whenever I heard the door, and wait until he'd find me and take me to the room. The one thing, though, that really never changed was his awful taste in music.
He always had this jazz song on, and it was kinda weird, considering the mood.
I'd be dragged out of my room, most of the time forcefully, and shoved into the empty room with him. He'd hit me, kick me, scream at me, cut me, starve me, anything in his power to make my life hell. After a year of his torment, he switched to another tactic.
Flashback:
I was grabbed roughly from behind, the collar of my shirt cutting off my breath. I coughed, my throat uncomfortable. He dragged me down the stairs, and I was thrown into the room, that jazz playlist already playing on repeat in the background.
"Hey!" My father's drunk voice slurred from above me, yanking me up roughly from the floor. I knew better than to flinch, but I couldn't help it. He slapped me across the face, my cheek burning. Tears sprung in my eyes and I bit my lip to distract from the stinging.
I felt my fathers hand slip off my shoulder and move to my lower back.
"W-What are you...!" I said, gasping when he gripped my ass. I whipped my head up, fear gripping me, making my heart pound so hard. I froze up, not knowing what to do. He's not going to...
"What's wrong? You like being touched by guys." He said, his tone hinting that he'd do something worse if I argue. I turned my head away, subconsciously leaning away from him. I felt anger swell in him.
"What? You think I'm doing something wrong?! You're a faggot! And since you like having sex with men, you like it when I touch you! Be honest. Tell me how much you like it." He said, threateningly, his other hand moving down to grope my ass. I gulped, wanting this to be over.
"Tell me you like it." He threatened again. His breath reeked of alcohol. I clamped my mouth shut, willing him to go away in my head. I felt his hands suddenly move and then I was being shoved across the room, landing hard on my ass.
"You do like it then." He said, kneeling in front of me. I shivered as his hands moved to my legs, rubbing up and down.
He suddenly pushed me over completely, his hand gripping my inner thighs so hard, bringing his face to mine. I squirmed desperately until my fight or flight kicked in. Before I knew it, my fist found his face, hitting him square in the jaw. He flinched back, giving me just enough space to make a run for it.
Just as I'd got to the doorway, I noticed too late that a pole was being swung at my head. My head jerked to side and my momentum carried me to the floor. I barely registered him kicking me and hitting me, his movements becoming more feverish and angry.
"You faggot! How dare you! You unappreciative slut! I give you exactly what you want and all I get back is ungratefulness! I know you're not my son. No son of mine would behave like this." He said, as I noticed the beating suddenly stopped. I cracked open my eyes to see what was going on.
I barely had time to react to the beer bottle hurtling towards me. I almost dodged it, but instead of it hitting my face, it shattered over my right shoulder and chest. Finally, the beating caught up to me and the world tilted and faded out to black.
But this definitely wasn't the worst.
End flashbackIt all ended a few months back, when my mother came home and found him hitting me.
She'd asked if he'd done it before and I lied, telling her it was the first. I really don't know why I defended him. Maybe I wanted to protect my mom from worrying about me. Maybe I thought I deserved being treated like that. Who knows.
She'd dumped him the very next day, yelling at him for hitting a child, and being violent, and being an alcoholic, etc.. I think I was happy he was gone. I think.
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Thanks for reading!! Make sure to check out my other stories if you liked it!Tehe I don't think I did too well on this chapter oop plz forgive me lol also I had a popsicle today and half of it fell on my carpet and now I'm upset 😡
(Yes ik this chapters cringy suck it up)
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