All Because of This (a.i. m.c.)

All Because of Flashbacks (SS 2)

A new chapter is here! We bring to you: another skype session (and a damn long chapter). Like last time this chapter is written by both myself (Linn) and Brie. Enjoy.

//Linn

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Triggers: mention of abuse, selfharm and sucide

~Ashton~

If I could have paced back and forth, I would have. The urge to walk back and forth between my bed and my bookshelf as many times as humanly possible was unbelievably strong, but instead of doing that I ended up on the floor, just staring at my crutches that I had thrown in front of me. Behind them I had placed my laptop. It was fully charged and showed Michael's skype profile. Offline. He was offline. Why didn't he call me? Certainly he had seen my email by now. He should call. He had to call. I didn't want to admit it, but in that moment I was extremely dependent on a single boy's skype call.

I brought my shaking hands up to my head and tugged on my messy curls. I needed to keep them away. I had to be in charge of my own brain. I needed control. At least until Michael called. I couldn't be alone when all hell broke loose. That would end badly. I couldn't go there again. I wouldn't go there again. I had to keep my mind under con -

Bright blue eyes. Teary smile. Soft pink lips forming words I couldn't make out. Thin fingers. So fragile. They slip out of my hand as my father punches him. Again. Again. Again.

I gasped for air as the memory hit me and clung to my bed sheets, like they would somehow keep me from falling back into the past. But of course it didn't help as another memory surfaced and I was dragged back down.

"Don't hit him dad, please!" A shadow towering above me. Dark eyes looking down at me. Hard. Cold. No mercy. "He can't come here. I said that he couldn't come here!"

I whimpered and buried my head between my legs. I didn't want to see this. Not again. Not ever.

My father grabbing me from behind. The small boy on the floor hurrying to his feet. Brown hair is the last thing I see as he disappears from my life forever. "And don't you even think of coming back! I will not let you turn my boy into a faggot!"

I screamed. Nobody heard. I was alone in the big, empty silence.

Cold tiles under my bare feet. My father's voice in the distance. Screaming. So angry. Always angry. At everything. Mostly me. Always me. Hurts. Want it to stop. Just make it stop.

Hot tears ran down my cheeks and my body started to shake with sobs. I didn't want to remember these things. They shouldn't be in my mind. Still...

Physical pain drowns emotional pain. I have heard the theory before. The little metal piece rests in my palm. I bring it closer. Closer. It's kissing my skin. Softly. I push harder. I -

From somewhere far away I heard the sound of someone trying to Skype call me. It was enough to shake me out of my memories and with blurry eyes and shaky hands I managed to press accept.

I looked up at the screen as the boy in front of me gasped in shock. Concern was written all over his features, face slightly scrunching up in confusion.

"Ashy, what's wrong?" he asked quietly, his accent ringing a sweet melody in my ears. I tried to calm down, focus on him, but the memories were starting to drown me. I could feel myself trembling, and I replied, "I - "

Cruel laughter ringing through the house. Fear. So much fear. I'm trembling. Securely packed away in the walk in closet in my parents' room. "Where did you go, my baby boy? I just want to talk to you." I fell for that once before. Not again. I helplessly clutch the knife, wishing my mother didn't think I was "too young" for a phone.