His footsteps thundered up the stairs, and I stopped breathing, silently going further into the closet. Tears were streaming down my face, and I was shaking.

"Where are you, you stupid fag?" his voice cut the silence in the room like knives. The worst part was, my father was sober. "Come on, come out of the closet! Oh wait, you already have!"

I just sat there, sobbing and praying. Praying that I had a mother who could save me from the monster who was my father.

The closet door opened, streaming light into it, but not revealing me. I was too far back. Or so I thought. He grabbed my feet and I yelped, trying to kick to loosen his grip, but it was too strong. I was being dragged out of my closet, hangers of clothes coming with me as i desperately tried to hang on to them.

"Stand up," he spat, as he let me go and my head hit the floor.

I listened to him, standing up and yanking my long-sleeved shirt down. "You think you're a man of the Lord, a man of the Lord wouldn't beat his children!"

He ignored me, coming closer and yanking my sleeve back up. "Aw, did you realize you're horrible and hurt your self, hoping the Lord would finally accept you?"

I could have said yes. I could have said he had beaten the gay out of me. I didn't, simply because it wasn't true and he would enjoy it more than beating me.

"No, I cut myself because you gave me no other option!" I screamed, awaiting the blow. When it game, it wasn't to the face, but in the gut. I crumpled to my knees, groaning in pain.

"Can't even take a simple blow? Come on, stand up, what will happen when your boyfriend cheats on you?" his dark hair was matted to his forehead, and me was breathing hevaly. His dark eyes held pure fury, as he looked over my small frame.

I didn't even bother telling him that I was single. I just stood up, and waited for the pain to end.

White lights. Blinding, white lights. Noise, lots of noise. Someone was hovering over me. Was it an angel? I must be dead, I bled out. My father wouldn't have helped me, would he?

"Where am I?" The cliché rolled off my tongue, and I sat up, wincing.

Hands pushed down gently on my shoulders. "You're in the hospital honey. You had a tough time last week, and you don't know how glad some people are to see that you're awake. I'll go get your father, you two and the doctors have quite a lot to talk about."

I just shrugged. My father wasn't actually upset. He's just going to shuffle his feet, run a hand through his long beard, and act sad, like he does when my old friend Kelsey used to come over and saw my cuts. Kelsey...

I shook my head. She's dead and gone. Forever. My father took her life. My father's a killer.

Just then, the devil himself and who I assumed was the doctor walked into the small room.

"Oh God Nico, I'm so glad you're awake! Why didn't you tell me you felt so bad?" My father couldn't even fake tears. The look in his eyes told me that he was going to beat me again, for the hospital bill he had to pay. So much for being a great man.

"I'm fine Father," I said through my teeth.

The doctor then spoke up, sensing the tension.

"Now, Nico. We've noticed that you have also lost a ton of weight since last year, when you came for your physical. I'm guessing that you have an Eating Disorder, and Depression. Now, it's a common thing amongst teenagers your age, but since it's gotten so extreme with you, I am going to send you to a treatment center in New York." My jaw dropped. A treatment center? "You'll be there for a year, and since you're turning Seventeen in under a week, by the time you get out you will have the choice to move out on your own, or go back with your father."

I perked up. I wouldn't have to go back to my father? That's a deal I would take. The only bad part was, I'd be stuck in a room with 40 other kids and talk about my feelings.

It was like the Doc heard my thoughts."It's not like what you think Nico," he said, "You have your own room, access to phone and internet, meals prepared by a top chef, recreation centers for teens, and of course therapy and medical things."

"I'll go. I don't have much to bring with me though, I only have 2 pairs of pants and 5 shirts."

"That's okay. The social worker will take you shopping, for basic needs. Your father told me since your mother passed, this were rough. The government is loaning you two money until your father gets back on his feet. I understand how much this must be hurting him."

I bit my tongue and just nodded, but gave my dad a look, that if looks could kill, he'd be in Hell. His name should be Hades.

"When do I leave?" I asked, hoping it would be tonight. I didn't wan't to go back home with my father, scared of what may happen.

"Tomorrow. We need you to stay here for the night, to make sure you're alright and won't relapse into your coma-like state. We also need to call the airport and get your flight booked, which is also paid by the government."

I was relived.

"Dean, may you come with me? I need to ask you some questions." The doctor directed this at my father, who was looking at me with utter rage.

"Of course, Dr. Alan."

The two of them walked out of the room, letting me look around for a bit. The window was big, but with bars covering them, probably so I wouldn't be able to jump. There was nothing in the room, besides the bed I was laying on, the IV hooked into my arm, and the thing monitoring my heart.

Sighing, I lifted my hand to run it through my hair, wincing in pain as I did so. How long was I out? The cuts on my arm have healed, except for the few deep ones near my elbows and the ones on my stomach.

What seemed like hours later, the door opened again, and Dr. Alan, my father, and some Japanese guy walked through the door.

"Hello again Nico, your father and I were just discussing some things, and this is Brian. He's the nurse, and is just going to check you over, to make sure no major things are going on. We would like you to stand up, and remove the hospital gown."

I did as I was told, not remembering the bruises from my father. I stood there in my boxers, as I heard gasps coming from two of the adults, most likely the doctor and nurse.

"Were you ever bullied in school, Nico?" The doctor asked me, looking at the purple, yellow, and blue bruises on my stomach that never really went away.

"No sir."

"Are you clumsy?"

"Yes sir."

"Don't call me sir."

"Okay."

I stood still once more, as the nurse counted my ribs and checked my reflexes, eyesight, and other normal things that would happen at a doctor's appointment. When he was done, my father gave me my Black and red sweater with a hood, and my skull pajama pants. He then pulled me into a hug, and I looked up, questioning my fathers' motives.

All the rage was gone from his face. "I love you boy, you being a sin against the Lord is just not right."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes and stepping out of the hug.

"How long was I out, and what time is it?" I asked. For being in a coma, I was extremely tired.

"About 3 weeks, and it's ten-fifty-eight at night."

"Can I sleep?"

"Of course, we'll be going now."

I climbed into the bed, and for once fell asleep quickly, one thought going through my head.

My father loves me.