He can remember what they used to do.

Every time he walked down the halls, he could hear their giggling. Their laughter - they laughed at jokes, at pranks. He could see them smiling and slapping backs and filling the air with their joy and tainting it. It made him feel sad - No, not sad. It wasn't sorrow - it was fury. They made him burn and rage in ways that evaporated the tears he shed at night as he thrashed in horrid dreams of monsters he knew couldn't be there anymore, dreams of running and hiding but never being hidden because they always knew. They found him and filled the air with cruelty and laughter and blood and they destroyed him.

He watched them go through their day, he was invisible to them, he was invincible, they would never touch him because they never saw him. They couldn't see him if he didn't cry so he never cried, not one tear, they would laugh at his tears and then there would be cruelty and the blood and the bane and the pain. And he didn't remember at home, just crawling into bed and bleeding onto his covers, but they would laugh if they saw his blood in the morning so he covered it up and made sure his shirt was clean.

She didn't laugh though.

Mommy helped him. Mommy made him clean when his skin was red and slick and sticky and she dried his cheeks when they felt wet and his lips tasted salty. Mommy was good, she never laughed, she gave him salty water drops that ran down his bare shoulder and chest as she cradled him tenderly. She never laughed, she never smiled. She loved him.

Mommy is gone.

And then no one loved him. They all laughed and they all smiled and no one cleaned him except himself. And he could hear their laughter at night and they hunted him and they HATED him.

Why do they hate me, Mommy?

But she didn't answer.

So one day he got up and went into his daddy's bedroom and found the thing Daddy used to use to keep them safe. He didn't use it anymore. When Daddy came home, he used the thing to keep himself safe.

Daddy was gone then, too.

And then he went to find the ones who laughed at him. He remembered to bring his things - the things he wrote on, he doesn't remember why, but he did, and he brought them so they wouldn't know and they wouldn't see him. They didn't. And then he pulled out the safety thing and it made loud noises.

He smiled at the soft white walls.

You can't spell slaughter without laughter.

-

A/N: ...so I usually don't write things like this, but I was sitting here and I don't really know why it hit me. I had to get this off my mind before I went to write Lethe, so...yeah. It took about ten minutes to write. About the story, they weren't laughing at Gabriel (which he knew, he just resented their laughing while he suffered) and he actually had presence of mind when he did this, but this was him remembering. He's more insane now. So his dad (Samson, who went from protecting them to abusing his son...I dunno why) abused him and his mother died, possibly killed by Samson (Gabriel didn't know this). Gabriel killed Samson and then went to school with a hidden pistol (don't pick at it - it's not supposed to be detailed) and killed some people and let's assume he's in the insane asylum now. So sad. :( I like Good!Gabriel, too...D: Why did I write this? Seriously...He's kind of criminally insane as well as mentally unstable. In fact, since I made it obscure, it could also be Peter - he's the only other character that really fits the bill for this.

So we'll say that this is to show what can easily happen as a result of child abuse. Mind you that Gabriel had no friends really, none who cared what he was going through at home, so teens and kids, even adults, if you're going through something or you suspect someone else might be, find someone or try to help that person. Don't push people away - this story itself horrifies me and I'm crying as I write this. It's a sad and terrible thing. No one should ever suffer until it drives them to insanity (or suicide - the same applies for that).