The Broken Boy

Chapter 7

***Warning!! There is rape in this chapter and late chapters. Do not read if it make you uncomfortable. It is basically the flashback. I'll put stars around the bad parts so skip if you want to!!***

Chapter 7

Niall’s POV

It’s not that I didn’t want to have sex with Liam. It’s that I couldn’t. Not without feeling him inside me. It was awful.

-----FLASHBACK-----

“Niall, can you come help me move something in the basement? It’s a two man job. I need some help with it. It’s too heavy for me alone.” I heard my dad call out to me. I felt myself swell with pride at the thought of my father calling me a man. Since I had come out as gay a year or so ago, he really hadn’t treated me the same. Every time we were at the house alone, he would disappear somewhere else and not come out until someone else came home. I marched my twelve year old self down the stairs in the basement and I located my father in the far corner, bent over a heavy looking object.

“Dad. I’m here.” I said, trying not to spook him. He turned around and grinned at me.

“Okay. I need you to grab hold right there. No there, Niall. There, yes, and there. Now, on the count of three, lift, okay?” I nodded.

“One, two, three!” We lifted the object and we staggered to the other side of the basement and he told me he needed it here.

“Thanks, Niall.” He said, ruffling my hair. As soon as I turned around to leave, he pulled out a sock and stuffed it in my mouth, swiftly tying my hand together after. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move because I was frozen with terror.

“You are going to pay for what kind of creature you have become.” He growled into my ear. I whimpered in response, not knowing what to do in this kind of situation. I had tears falling freely down my cheeks and no way to wipe them off.

My dad dragged me over to the wall and locked my hands on the wall somehow. Now I couldn’t move away even if I had the strength in my thin body.

*****

I started shaking as I felt him loosen the drawstring on my sweatpants. I knew what was coming next immediately after he did that. Tears fell even faster down my cheeks and he pulled off my sweatpants, revealing my boxers. Tugging those off as well, he proceeded to take off his own pants and boxers.

He didn’t even use any kind of lube. He didn’t stretch me out either. He just shoved his hard member balls-deep into my arse, making me scream in pain and the tears to fall even faster yet.

*****

It was a torturous time. I mean, my dad was raping me, how much worse could it get? The answer: so much more. At that moment, my younger brother, Greg, decided to become quite curious to what all the noise was about. Seconds after my dad released himself inside of me, my brother, age seven at this time, flung open the door. He looked at my dad, who was still inside me, coming down from his high, and then me, chained to the wall with tears streaking down my face. He instantly started crying and my dad was swift to shut him up, running over to collect him and he took him and chained him next to me.

Thankfully, my dad didn’t rape my brother as well. I told my dad to do whatever he wanted to me, but to leave Greg out of this.

My dad let my brother go. He hugged me, told me he loved me, and ran out of the room crying. I didn’t see him do this at the time, but he proceeded to lock the basement door so my dad couldn’t get out, and he jumped out of my bedroom window and ran down to the end of the street to our neighbour’s house. That neighbour was a police officer and my mom had always told us to go there in case of an emergency. I’m glad my brother could keep it together enough to go get him.

No less than ten minutes later, the police were storming the house, locating the basement and flinging it open, finding me chained to the wall and my dad hiding in the corner.

My dad was sent to jail, only to be let out six months later on account of “good behaviour.” The beatings and rapes continued after that, slowly getting worse, yet better. I built myself up in strength and endurance in the months that followed, to become stronger than him until one day I could overpower him.

The rapes were better in the sick sense that they occurred so much, I slowly either got stretched out enough, or I became impervious to the pain.

By the time I turned sixteen, I had enough secretly built-up muscle and I beat the crap out of my dad during one of our “sessions.” My mom heard the commotion and saw my dad unconscious on the floor and both of us lacking pants and boxers. She knew what had happened and collected me up in her arms, despite the fact that I was naked from the waist down.

My dad was sentenced to ten years in jail with accounts of kidnapping, rape, and abuse.

My brother had to be enrolled in therapy. He had stopped eating after the first initial rape and he had stopped talking to anyone but me. He started losing friends and soon my mom and I were all he had. That was fine with me. He has trust and abandonment issues, as well as anxiety. He gets anxious very easily.

One of the times he had an anxiety attack was when I had gone out to a bar on my sixteenth birthday and went back to a friend’s house late that night. I had a few pints and was a little out of it when he texted me. I remember feeling my phone vibrate twenty seven times. They were all from Greg.

When I didn’t respond to his texts, he became frantic, somehow convinced that my dad had escaped and gotten to me. He searched all around the town and he finally went to the friend’s house I was staying at. After confirming the fact that I was okay, just a bit drunk, he instantly fell asleep, as it was about four in the morning.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I started cutting.

The first time I did it, the relief of being able to feel and control the pain rather than just having to endure it was amazing. It was like all my pain was flowing out with the blood that was dripping down my arms and legs.