Matthew Williams had hit rock bottom.
He just won't admit it.
He wants to quit, he just... can't. He's in to deep. He's done cocaine, meth, weed, shrooms, and he can't go a day without them.
But the day he did, oh god, he never wants to do it again. It was the day a young, nine-year-old boy, Marc, showed up at the door of his shit hole apartment. His son...
"U-um... Are you my dad?" The wide-eyed boy asked innocently. Matthew took a good look at the boy. The pale blonde hair much like his own and the amazingly light, with a hint of purple, blue eyes. There was absolutely no doubt.
"Yeah, I guess I am." Matthew wore a fake smile. It's amazing how a smile could hide a million lies.
Matthew was to scared to get high that day.
But the days went by. Marc was slowly catching onto Matt whenever he would see his father stick a needle into himself everyday. Yet he still stayed silent, he was a smart boy. He knew when to be seen and not heard. His mom wasn't much different.
Matthew didn't know what to do. He had no idea who his son's mother is. He was recently fired, but the worst was he had no drugs.
Then it hit him. Not just the incredible need for the drug, but also an amazing, evil and heart-breaking choice.
He sold Marc. Just like that. He knew a Frenchman who ran a whorehouse that was more than happy to drop a few bucks for the kid.
He got his money; his meth, his high, but he still wasn't happy. He felt hallow. Like a lifeless vessel, doll, tool. He didn't eat, sleep, drink or even move.
Oh god,
He wanted to die...
"Mattie, are you sure you're alright? You sound pretty messed up, dude." His twin brother, Alfred, asked on the other end of the phone. Alfred would never understand, he was the- the golden boy, the king. He didn't have a worry in the world. He didn't know pain. He never has...
"Yeah, Al. I'm alright."
The day before it happened, Matthew bought Marc back. Matthew was beaten black and blue. The boy looked as if he went through hell and refused to look his father in the eye.
But Matthew didn't care; he got him back. And so he left Marc with Al, where he knew he would be safe from now on.
On the last day, he found every drug he had, Advil, Pain killers, and even cough syrup, all of them went out the third story window. Matthew wished to go with them...
But no,
He was classier than that.
He grabbed a knife from the kitchen and made his way to the bathroom. Before he would climb into the tub he wrote a note in the blood from his self-cut open finger onto the bathroom mirror. It was for Alfred...
'Al,
I'm sorry, bro. I couldn't live with myself anymore. I love you, forever. Take good care of Marc for me. He's a smart, bright boy. Give him a great life I couldn't even imagine giving him.
Love, Mattie'
The note was surrounded with a large bloody heart. With that done, he lowered himself into the bathtub, and for the first time in days, he did something he never thought he would do again.
He smiled.
He was finally free...
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading! This is my first FanFiction posted on this website. Reviews are welcome and I hope you enjoyed...
Even if I killed off Matthew...
Thanks again and please, be gentle!