Another story? The I know .-. It's a little ridiculous... I will complete my other story tho... Just not verry fast at updating :L

serious warning guys: THIS FANFICTION CONTAINS UNSETTLEING THINGS LIKE SELF HARM AND FUTURE EATING DISORDER /POOR BODY IMAGE THOUGHTS, IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE READING FANFICTIONS WITH THIS NATURE PLEASE DON'T, I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO RELAPSE

"You're so slow, why can't you be more like your brother?"

10 years old

"What is that? It looks like crap, try and learn from your brother. Maybe then you'll actually have some talent."

13 years old

"WHY DO YOU HAVE TO DO THIS ALFRED?! SERIOUSLY! CAN'T YOU JUST BE GOOD FOR ONCE?!"

A few hours ago

No matter how old he gets the comments would always get worse. No matter how hard he trys, his dad always has something bad to say, but did his brother get picked on? No. It was always Alfred fucking Jones, (maybe that's what the F in his name means) if Matthew did something wrong like staying out until midnight or something really drastic? (Which never happens) All he would get was something like "MATTHEW! How dare you do something like that! Go to your room, NOW!" But if he, Alfred, did something it was completely different. "AGAIN ALFRED? Why can't you be more like your brother, you IDIOT" or "THAT'S IT! SERIOUSLY ALFRED! WHY CAN'T YOU GET OFF YOUR FAT ARSE AND DO SOMETHING GOOD?!" And that's just what he hears for bad grades.

The words hurt him, a lot. Sometimes he wonders why he even bothers.

...

Would they even care if he disappeared...?

Probably not, maybe papa would a little...

Mattie might too...

...

If Mattie disappeared...?

Both dad and papa would fall apart.

And Alfred? Well... he would fall apart if his brother disappeared.

I mean he was there for Al when he was at his lowest... Mattie was the reason he was ever re-homed.

And that's why he doesn't hate his brother, despite being a little jealous.

Alfred opened his eyes, waking suddenly from the nightmare. The reoccuring dreams reflecting his daily life.

He inhaled slowly, shakily, trying to calm his nerves as he looked at his clock.

6:00 a.m.

School started at 8:30.

He groaned, getting out of his bed to take a shower and clear his head.

'I wish that I could just disappear. Leave it all behind. All the nightmares, the depression, my ugly fat ass body, everything. Just be free from it all.' He thought to himself as he began his usual routine. Get up, feel disgusted with himself for being such a depressed little bitch, catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, get pissed and disappointed, take a shower, and put on his happy mask. He promises himself every morning that he'll keep himself under control, be he always loses it. He ends up stuffing his face like a pig, and when he realises that he broke his promise, he gets out the blade and cuts away the guilt...
He knows he needs help but he's too ashamed to ask for it. He's too wrapped up in his self hate to tell anyone. He just pushes through each day, goes to bed, and cries himself to sleep like a 'little emo kid'. He wakes up periodically throughout each night, only to wake up tired the next day and do it all over again.

"No... This time is going to be different. This time I'll be stronger." He tells himself, getting out of the shower and examining himself in the mirror. Even though to everyone else, his body was fine, he was slim and in shape, all he saw was fat. On his thighs, arms, everywhere, the worst bit for him was his stomach, how it just seemed to stick out like a big red zit on a clean face. He stood there pinching at the 'fat' on his body and scowling pinching harder and harder, leaving marks on his skin. He shook his head and let go, moving his attention to the bandages on his thighs. He unwrapped the bandages and examined the gashes and scars littered across his flesh. He sighed, replacing his bandages, and then pulling his underwear on over them, keeping the scars and gashes hidden from anyone's eyes but his own.

"I will be different one day." he whispered, not wanting to alert anyone in the house (Although they were all probably awake by now.)

He smiled weakly at himself, just believable enough that no one would question it, and went downstairs. The sound of voices caused him to stop and listen to the argument going on between his papa and dad in the kitchen, before he grabbed his bag, pretending he hadn't heard what his dad was saying. He was drunk... Again.

"Arthur, try to be quiet, sil vous plaite? He'll hear you..." His papa begged.

"It's not my bloody fault if he hears me! And I don't give a shit if he does! He should know by now that the only *hic* reason I adopted him was because he and his brother refused *hic* to be separated! It'd be so much better if *hic* he wasn't my son!"

Alfred turned and marched right to the doorway, his face full of rage and hurt.

"Why don't you say that to my face old man." He snarled, looking his dad right in the eyes.

"What did you call me? Don't you BLOODY DARE be so disrespectful to you're father!" He shouted.

"Oh I'm sorry, so you are my dad now? I thought you didn't want me as your son. You know what? Fuck. You. If you really hate me so much, THEN JUST TAKE ME BACK TO THE FUCKING ADOPTION PLACE, WHERE I BELONG! BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY I'M SUCH A RUDE LITTLE SHIT WHO DOESN'T DESERVE TO LIVE HERE." He shouted, storming out and slamming the door shut as he left.

He went straight to the place he always went when he was upset, and leaned against a tree. He finally broke down into sobs as he slid down to the ground, hands over his eyes. He took off his glasses and sat there for a while, until he calmed down. He wiped his eyes and checked his phone, 7:35. His school was about 30 minutes away so he dicided to walk to school, his mask firmly in place, ignoring the text his dad sent him.

Turns out today was the same as always.

IF YOU DO HAVE THISE PROBLEMS THEN THERE'S PEOPLE TO HELP YOU

I know that you may not want to talk about it but trust me, it's worth talking about it with someone

I know you don't know me but I'm always here to help too, just give me a pm or something