Jeremike-You're Different than the others

Chapter 4: Wounds

(Authors Note: Well hey there. I just wanted to say thank you if you are reading this. Writing this fic is helping me a lot in terms of calming my nerves and giving myself a break from drawing. I just wanted to say that this chapter has some feels moments so if you don't like that, please comment below and I can tell you what happened. Again thank you so much for reading this! Grim is out!)

Jeremy’s POV

I couldn’t believe it, I got the job! I was so happy that I started running home just to get some sleep. I ran down the street, my hair covering my eyes. It was around 2:34pm so I had lots of time to get some rest. The sky was starting to turn cloudy as I reached my apartment. I pushed open the glass doors and ran over to the elevator. I didn’t pay attention to anything but getting sleep. I only lived a few floors up so I got to my apartment quickly. I ran into my bedroom and set my alarm clock for 11:00pm so I could have enough time to get to Freddy’s. It was now 3 pm, so I was going to get ready to sleep when I heard a knock at the door. I froze.

Then I heard the knocking turn to a louder bang. I was completely frozen. I knew who was there, and I was terrified. Suddenly my door swung open, and was shut with a loud bang. I wanted to cry, I knew what was coming. I tried my best not to break out sobbing. I started to shake slightly, I hoped he wouldn’t notice. I guess he did. I felt a hand whip me around so I could face the person behind me. I was thrown back a bit from the action and trying to process what happened until I felt something strike my face. I fell to the ground holding the left side of my face, he had slapped me hard. I started panting, I was prone to have panic attacks whenever something like this happened. I tried to calm down, but before I could he picked me up by my jacket and threw my across the room.  I hit a wall and my head struck the wall extremely hard. I lifted my hands up to hold my head, but he grabbed my wrists and ripped me up to my feet. He grabbed me so hard that I think he left a mark on my wrists and hands, his nails were also digging into my arms causing them to bleed. I pleaded in my mind.

Dad please stop!!!!!! Please…

I would have actually spoken to him, but I knew it would make him madder. He lifted me up once again, my hair hiding my eyes which were full of tears. I knew I shouldn’t cry, it would make him beat me more. He finally spoke.  “Not going to fight back! I knew you were weak!” I remained silent. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he glared at me. “ANSWER ME YOU BRAT!!!” he screamed at me. I tried to stay still and tried to not start sobbing. He glared at me for what felt forever, until he threw me across the room once again. I landed on the ground like a rag doll. I was hoping he would just give up and leave. My dad started to walk to the door, but not before throwing an empty beer bottle at me. The glass shattered everywhere, landing on my hands and face. I could feel the blood start to drip off my hands. He stormed out of my apartment and left the building. I could hear the elevator beep so I knew he was finally gone. I started sobbing on the spot. I never wanted this! I was always a good kid, but I guess that didn’t matter.

              I slowly started to get up, trying not to step on the glass. I stumbled, but eventually got to my feet and slowly limped to the bathroom to grab a first aid kit. My face was still wet with tears as I sat down on the couch and started to bandage my wounds. I still cried as I bandaged my hands, wrist, face, and a few bruises on my back. I realized that I had a scratch on my face from the beer bottle right below my right eye. I knew Mike was going to see this, and I would have to answer questions. This wasn’t going to end well. I finally finished bandaging my hands, my tears starting to dry a bit. My whole body felt like it was on fire. I limped to my bedroom and flopped down on the bed. It was now 4pm, and I was so tired. I knew I would have to comb my hair over the face so it would cover my cut. I ended up crying again, my tears stinging my wounds. I cried myself to sleep that day. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for me to do….