It was hard, dealing with this every day. John would force himself to go to school, all full of smiles and laughs like he usually was so they wouldn't expect a thing. But when he got home, those smiles faded into a blank face, emotionless. Just in time for his father to get home. It was hard for John to keep it all in. To manage to hide all the bruises and bite marks. No one asked a single question when the peppy boy suddenly switched from his favourite T-shirts and khakis to baggy hoodies and long jeans. No one, not one of his friends noticed the subtle difference in his actions. Not even his best friend for years, Mr. Dave Strider himself, had noticed anything different in John.
But they would soon enough.
Maybe it would be too late. Maybe they would find him just in time. But one thing was sure for the boy. Everyone would know what had happened to him. No one would have to go through the same pain, the same horror he had been forced through every day of his life. At least, since he hit high school. That's when the trouble started. A chill ran up the boy's spine as he remembered what had happened the first time.
John had just walked in the door, about a week after school started. He was surprised to see his father's car gone, since he usually got home before John did. It didn't upset him. He figured there must have been some kind of tie emergency or something of the sort. However, as John was chilling on the sofa and watching Con Air for the billionth time about two hours later, his father's car drove up. John dismissed it for the moment, figuring his father would come in with some new exciting story about the workplace. Instead what he got was angry muttering, a curse when the door wouldn't open at first, and a heavy groan as the door was opened. John glanced up slightly, grinning.
"Hey, Da..." He stopped mid word, however, taking in his father's appearance. His had was missing, and his shirt was horribly wrinkled. Something bad was up. "Dad? Dad, what's wrong?" John asked, worried for his father. That's when he had smelt it. The overwhelming stench of alcohal was coming off his father in waves. John's eyes widened when everything started to make sense. He had just been about to get up when his Dad stomped over, glaring down at him.
"Where d'ya think yer going?" he asked, yanking John up from the couch by his Ghostbusters shirt. The raven-haired teen had been too afraid to answer, instead avoiding eye-contact altogether. "I asked you a question, boy!" His voice raised, and he shook John.
"I-I was going to my room!" John said, impulsively pushing away from his father. One slap later and he had slumped slightly in his grip, a hand holding the burning flesh of his cheek. He looked up to his father, tears springing at his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but his father beat him to the punch.
"Don't you fight back against me, boy! I'll show you." And then he had done it. John had tried all he could to fight his father away, pushing and screaming for him to stop. But nothing had happened. No one had come bursting through the door. And only later, when he was lying on his side with only a blanket covering him and tears were running down his face, did he even think to grab his phone.
Of course, the abuse had let up a bit from the first time. His father rarely raped him anymore, that only occuring on bad days. And even then, sometimes his father would return from work, chipper and offering to bake John a cake like old times. These were when John risked staying out of his room. On the worse days, however, John stayed in his room, door locked as his father stumbled around down the stairs, calling angrily for John. Only a few times was he foolish enough to leave his room, and those were the worst beatings.
'But that's not going to happen again,' John thought, looking at the piece of paper clutched in his hand. Nothing was going to change what was about to happen. His father would never touch him again. He wouldn't be hit, raped, or anything like that anymore. He had left the exact same note at each of his friend's houses; One for Rose, Jade, and Dave. Only Dave's letter held more than the rest, though. After closing the mailbox of his own house, John set out to the lake.
Dave's eyes scanned over the letter, reading the most important parts to himself.
"...I never knew how to tell this to anyone..."
"...It started in 9th grade..."
"...I never wanted it to have to come to this..."
"...You probably won't find this until it's too late..."
"If Rose and Jade haven't found me yet, look on the North side of the lake by my house..."
"...I love you, Dave."
The Strider held the crumpled piece of paper in his hand as he started sprinting from his apartment, heading for the lake. He had a single thought running through his mind.
He had to get there in time.
In time to stop John from making the one mistake he could never regret. He had to be there so that John wouldn't pull that trigger. Part of him even wondered where he had found the gun, if he had been planning this all along. But no. Some of the things he read in that letter... His legs moved faster the closer he got to the lake. As he got closer, he could make out a single figure. All at once, time slowed down. He was able to make out John's dorky shape, and an object pointed to his head. He was opening his mouth to shout at him to stop, oh God please stop, when a loud BANG split the silent air.
And the figure fell.
Dave wasn't aware he was yelling, or crying until he was bending over the limp figure of his best friend. Blood was surrounding him, already pooling. But what could Dave expect. There was a clear shot through the middle of his forehead. Dropping to his knees, Dave pulled the body to him. "John...John..." He mumbled, staring down at the body. He swallowed, closing the eyes of his best friend when he could sense no heartbeat. His hands tightened into fists and he let out one last yell.
If he looked hard enough, John was just asleep.
But he would always be asleep.
A/N;; Alright! So, I know I should be working on LCFH, but I'm in a sort of writer's block. So, naturally I wrote sadstuck. I know it might seem rushed, but I was just wanting to get it out and ready. Make sure to R&R, I'll be glad to read flames! ^^