Warning: Rated high T, for thoughts of suicide, abuse, and other mature themes.
Eddie
"How was school...Eddison?" My mom slurred. I rolled my eyes.
"Fine. Let me guess: your day consisted of drinking, drinking, and more drinking?" I shoot back.
"I would hit you, but you're correct. Now go upstairs, Bill's waiting." She smiles drunkly. I gulp. I sling my bag on the floor, then cautiously walk up the stairs. My hand begins to shake as I reach the top of the stairs. I mentally calm myself, and then open the door. A man with dark brown and grey hair, tall, and wearing a pair of sweats awaits me-Bill.
"Eddison, come. Sit." He says. Stains are plastered upon his shirt, holes in his socks. I take a seat on the bed. "Your mother loves you, you know that don't you?" He starts. I'm confused, at first.
"No she doesn't. I was a mistake, remember?"
"Ah, yes... You have learned the correct answers, haven't you?" He slurs. Obviously someone's been drinking too.
"What did I ever do to you?!" I shout. He smacks me across the face. My lip begins to bleed, as does my nose. I stiffen.
"Haven't you learned your lesson by now?" He grins, alcohol blown in my face. He kicks me in the shin. To any other normal person, they think they'd be dying. To me, it doesn't hurt anymore. I've gotten used to it. The pain, the rejection. After a while you get so used to being abused, it becomes a normal day for you. "Get lost. I'm sick of looking at you." He spat, as I return downstairs, not cleaning up at all.
"I see your meeting went well. You know, I thought he would've done worst to you. Oh wait, that's my job." My mom grins. I say nothing. She points to the sink. It's full of water, a bunch of silver wear in the bottom. "Put those in the dishwasher." She growls. Usually, this is chores. For me, it's abuse. I don't have the heart to tell anyone though. I go over to the sink, and grab a handful of silver wear. The boiling hot water singes my skin, and the sharpened steak knives cut my delicate skin. I wince in pain, and after about 5 minutes am finished.
I snap out of my flashback. Hot tears steam up in my eyes. Before this, I had always thought of committing suicide. I remember that day perfectly. The last day I was abused before I snuck off to England. That was two years ago. The abuse had begun when I was about six or so, a year after my dad had left. I never told him, to this day to be exact. He would never believe me. I knew it. Actually, I've never told anyone, even Patricia. I was deciding on whether I should tell her or not. And if I was, how? This conflict had been giving me headaches for days on end.
"Penny for your thoughts?" I hear a voice ask. I turn my head, and see the beautiful face of my British girlfriend, Patricia Williamson.
"Hey Yacker..." I say, bringing her into a hug.
"Is everything alright? You've been acting weird lately..." She mumbles, kissing me softly. I don't answer. I can't lie to her... I just can't... "Eddie... You look like you've been crying."
"Can I tell you something?" I ask.
"Anything." She replies, and kisses me once more. I deepen the kiss, my hands flying to her waist, hers tangled in my hair. We begin to go further... Until... I stop. "What is it?" She asks, looking hurt. "Am I not good enough for you? Because if I'm not... Just never mind... I'll just be going..." She mutters.
"It's not you. You didn't do anything. Believe me."
"Well then... What is it?" She mumbles, looking hurt.
"I was abused as a child." I blurt out.
This will be a two-shot! Constructive criticism please, but no nasty comments! I don't like them.. This was very emotional... umi4ever prompted this, and molesting Eddie was originally part of it, but I couldn't write that... I'm sorry I just can't... I don't do gay/lesbian stuff... And I will not go deeper into convertsation;) Also, no... I don't update TWTD everyday, I only did that last week for finale week:) also, keep sending in them prompts! I have a bunch, which I can't wait to write! :)