Love. Love is what every person needs, whether it be from their family, their friends, their caretaker. Love and compassion are what people need to grow, to become a better person, to have confidence to go out into society and give these two special things to others. Love is the reassurance to people that they matter, that people want them here, and that they will do anything to keep them safe. However, I never received this so called 'love', not for a long, long time. I haven't even seen any traces of love towards me for as long as I could remember. Ever since my mother passed away when I was the oh so young age of 4 years old, love has completely vanished from my life. My drunken mess of a father could care less about me, usually forgetting to feed me, clothe me, love me, despite all of these years. 8 years have come and gone, me being mistreated by my father has numbed most of my feelings, except for two, sadness and fear. All these years I had lived in fear of making him angry. My dad...no! He's not my dad. At least, not anymore. HE would always beat me if I spoke out of turn, if I asked him for food, water, even love. All I wanted from him is love, but what I received was pain and suffering, and a shell of what my father once was. I want my mom to come back, it's been so long that I've felt love that I forgot what it was like, to have someone who actually cared. I'm just a sad, scared husk of what I once was. I wanted the old me back, the happier me, the energetic me, the loved me.
...
"CHARLEY! GET YOUR DUMB ASS IN HERE!" My dad's raspy voice echoed down the hall of our small, one floor house. I was currently lying silently on my bed, drawing in the sketch pad I had got from my mother before she had died. She told me that when I felt down and depressed, drawing could help me. Over the years, I've gotten quite good at drawing. Putting my pencil down, I closed the sketch pad and put it under my pillow, so my dad doesn't find it. He's taken away everything else from me, and I don't want him to take the last thing I care about. I stood up from my bed, stretching my stiff muscles. I walked towards the door of my very plain room, which had white walls, one window, a twin sized bed, and a lone night stand with a simple lamp. I didn't even have a closet. I kept what little clothes I had under my bed in various piles. I sighed and walked out of my depressing room and into the hallway, quickly walking so I did not anger my father more. When I entered the living room, my father was lounging lazily on the couch, empty beer cans surrounding him, an angry expression across his face.
"WHERE'S MY BEER?" He yelled at me, which made me flinch.
"D-dad, I t-told you that I'm not old e-enough to buy b-beer." I stuttered, trying not to get him angry.
"DID YOU JUST TALK BACK TO ME?" He yelled, standing up. He towered over me, since he was about 6"2 and I was a measly 5"1.
"N-no sir," I took a step back, my eyes widening in fear. Before I knew it, a something hit me across my face, sending me to the ground. As I laid there, holding my stinging face, I received a kick that hit me square in the ribs, causing me to scream out in pain. I heard him huff a breath of frustration before I was yanked up forcefully by my shirt collar.
"I don't want to see you for the rest of the night, do you understand me?" He said with hatred dripping from his voice. I nodded vigorously, not wanting to get hit another time. He dropped me down to the floor, which caused a great deal of pain to wash over me. Despite the excruciating pain I felt, I didn't shed a single tear. Like I had stated before, all these years have numbed all other feelings besides sadness and fear. Pain was something I endured everyday for 8 years. I picked myself up and limped all the way down to my room, making sure to close the wooden door and lock it tight. On the back of my bedroom door was a full body mirror, which was here when we had bought the house. I took off my blue and red striped shirt to inspect the damage done to my body. Besides the red hand print that was left on my right cheek, various bruises and cuts littered my abdomen, the most prominent one is were my father kicked me just a few minutes ago. I touched where said bruise was and I hissed in pain.
"Definitely some broken ribs there." I told myself, slightly happy that I was used to pain at this point. I put my shirt back on, groaning because of my most recent injury. I looked in the mirror, the mark on my face slowly turning into a bruise. I then took notice of how disheveled I actually looked. My dark brown hair was sticking up in different directions, grease evident in it as well. My once bright hazel eyes were now dull and lifeless, which scared me a bit. How did I let my asshole father treat me like this? Why am I still here with him? I can't take the constant pain and suffering anymore! I have to get away from this awful place, away from him. My mom wanted me to be happy and safe, but I'm not getting those things here. I want to leave. No, I NEED to leave.
I walked towards the corner of my room, where my backpack lay. It was an old, raggedy, simple black backpack, with the logo of my favorite football team, the Packers. After years of using it, it looked like it was about the to fall apart. There were holes if various sizes all over it, none of them big enough to have anything important falling out of it though. I grabbed it from the corner, bringing it over to my bed. I dragged all of my clothes that I owned, which wasn't a lot by the way, from under my bed, quickly stuffing them into one of the sections of the backpack. I reached onto my nightstand and grabbed my phone, which was an old flip phone that looked like it was from the early 2000s. It's not as fancy as the phones now, but I'm still thankful for it. I stuffed the small device into my pocket, making sure that it was secure. I was about to zip up the bag when I realized I forgot something. I quickly grabbed the pillow, throwing it haphazardly across the room, revealing the sketchbook I had put there previously. I grabbed it, a wave of memories rushed into my mind. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and shoved it into my bag. I zipped it and slung the bag over my shoulder, taking a look around this room for the last time. This room was my safe haven for the past 8 years, but now I will be able to get my freedom I've always deserved. I can't risk getting caught, so I eyed my window.
"I have to go through there." I told myself, walking up to my only exit. I opened it slowly, letting the cool night air hit me. I stealthily climbed out of the window, making sure to close the window back up. I walked down the path beside my house, approaching the gate that leads to the street. I opened it and stepped out. Before I could stop it, the gate closed with a loud clanging sound. Fearing for my life at this point, I darted right and took off down the dark street. There were no street lights around this part of town, which is never thought I'd be more grateful for. I heard the squeaking of the screen door to my house, which meant that my dad must've went outside to investigate. This only made me run even faster, faster than I thought I could run. I kept running until I got closer to the center of town, street lights now lining the area. I saw a few people walking down the sidewalk, some of which were monsters. Monsters had started to integrate into the city little by little ever since last year, but I just considered them as normal people. Me of all people shouldn't judge people by what's on the outside, I was taught that everyone should deserve love and kindness. As I was thinking about all this, I accidentally ran into something hard, which tipped over and fell with a large bang. I looked to see that I had run into a garbage can, and with my luck, it was a metal one. The impact of the garbage can made my ribs start to hurt, causing horrible pain throughout my body. I fell to the ground, holding my injured ribs. My legs started to ache from all of the running I did. I easily ran about 10 blocks without stopping, which was surprising. I wanted to get up and run again, but my body didn't allow me to. I looked to the house that was in front of me, hearing the front door open, the porch light turning on. I tried to stand up, but excruciating pain made me fall back down. I looked back towards the house, only to see someone walking towards me. As they got closer, I was able to make out what they looked like. It was a skeleton, donning a blue hoodie, black shorts, and pink fuzzy slippers. If I wasn't in so much pain, I probably would've questioned his clothes.
"What're you doing here, kid?" The skeleton asked, the pinpricks of light in his eye sockets examining me.
"Oh god, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Please don't hurt me!" I tried to stand up, which only caused me to fall back to the ground, letting out a yelp of pain.
"Don't worry, kid. I won't hurt ya." The skeleton said, offering me a hand. At first I didn't trust him, but then I remembered that most monsters didn't have any bad intentions. I grabbed his bony hand, which was surprisingly warm. He yanked me up a little harder than expected, causing me to groan in pain again. The pain I felt right now was enough to cause a few stray tears to roll down my face, to which the skeleton noticed.
"You hurting that bad? Cmon, I'll fix you up." The skeleton said. We walked towards the house, which was about the same size of mine. The skeleton opened the front door, revealing a decent sized living room, that contained a couch, a tv, and a chair in the corner. On said couch was another skeleton, wearing what looked to be armor and a red scarf.
"SANS, WHAT WAS OUT THE-?" The other skeleton cut his sentence short when he spotted me. "WHO IS THAT?"
"I found him outside, and he's hurt. Go get the first aid kit in the bathroom." The skeleton, which I just figured out was named Sans, told the other skeleton, who nodded and raced off to what I assumed was the bathroom. Sans walked me over to the couch, which I slowly managed to sit on. Sans looked at me with a worried expression on his face, which was weird because he was, y'know, a skeleton.
"Where's the pain at?" He asked me, scanning my body.
"My ribs, mostly." I told him, the pain getting worse. The other skeleton came in, bandages and other various medical supplies in his arms. He handed a tube of pain relieving cream to Sans, who thanked him. He lifted up my shirt, only to gasp when he saw the giant bruise on my ribs, which looked a lot worse than before.
"Kid, are you sure you don't want to go to a hospital? That looks pretty serious." Sans asked me, which struck me with fear. If I went to the hospital, if be forced to go back to my dad. I quickly shook my head.
"N-no, I'm fine. I just need to rest for a minute." I assured the two of them, who exchanged looks of uncertainty.
"ARE YOU SURE, HUMAN?" The other skeleton asked, to which I nodded. Sans put some of the pain relieving cream on his hand and rubbed it on the giant bruise on my ribs, which made me wince in pain. After he was done, I lowered my shirt, the pain beginning to subside. Sans picked up the medical supplies and walked back to the bathroom, leaving just me and the other skeleton.
"I'M SORRY, HUMAN. I DO NOT BELIEVE I CAUGHT YOUR NAME." He asked me, holding out his hand to shake. I grabbed it gently and smiled weakly.
"C-Charley," I told him, to which he smiled.
"I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AND MY BROTHER'S NAME IS SANS." He introduced him and his brother. 'Heh, they're named after fonts.' I let out a long yawn, fatigue finally catching up to me.
"ARE YOU TIRED? YOU CAN SLEEP ON THE COUCH IF YOU WOULD LIKE." Papyrus offered.
"Are you sure? I don't want to burden you." I asked, unsure about me being in these two skeletons' house in the first place.
"NONSENSE, YOU JUST GET ALL THE REST YOU NEED." Papyrus said with a smile. I was still unsure about the whole situation, afraid that they would try something. But, I've pretty much been to hell and back, so I think I can handle them.
...
~hey guys! Thanks for reading the first chapter of my new story! If you want me to continue, please show me some feedback, which is always appreciated. Thanks!
