All I Crave is Mercy Ch1
Pain was never a stranger to me.
It had always been there, and would always remain there. It followed me. I couldn't escape it no matter how hard I ran, or how many times I left the hell-hole which doubled as home; the pain was always there.
Sometimes, the pain would subside. It would ease, drift off into a different place. But it would come back. It always comes back. No matter where I hid, no matter how drastically I would try to push it out of my broken and clotted mind, it would always be back to haunt me.
The pain would never go away, and I knew that. But what was I to do about it? What could I have ever done to put an end to the chase, to demolish my pain, my fear, my hurt? Nothing. Nothing known to me would ever end, it, and I'd play this game to the end. Because of all the things a human can fix, scars aren't one of them.
. . .
Sometimes when I was particularly lucky, the pain would be so incredibly immense, it would knock me out cold. I would drop like stone onto the floor, and even once I had woken up, I would remain there. It was better when the pain knocked me out. Then I didn't have to deal with it directly. I could let it pass, even if it was only for a minute. My old man would throw that last punch, would drop the final kick, and the pain would ease, and I didn't have to worry anymore. I could just forget the world, and my pain and my fears. I could put it all behind me. I could simply float in a wave made of anything but reality, and lose myself in an ocean of nothingness.
Tonight was not one of those nights.
My old man had gotten home awfully wasted, and if I had known beforehand, I would never have come home. I'd have spent the night at the lot. But I hadn't known before hand, and so as soon as my dad entered the house the scent of alcohol stumbled toward me, much like the old man himself did.
By the time my old man had gotten to me, I was already prepared for the worst. I breathed in, breathed out, and then closed my eyes. I wasn't scared.
I had grown up with fists flying at me. I lived in a whirlpool of pain. It tried to pull me under, it used all its strength to drown me; but I never gave in. No matter how badly I wanted to, no matter how easy it would have been. I didn't let it engulf me, I didn't let it swallow me.
My cheek stung suddenly, yanking me from my thoughts. My dad's hand had extended, left its infamous mark as it retracted, and sprung out once more.
But I just stood there and took it. That bothered the old man. He did this for the satisfaction of a reaction. If there was no reaction from me, then hell, he might as well just go off and buy himself a punching bag.
The fact that I made no noise, no movement, no reaction to the pain, only made my old man angrier, and the tidal wave of an unstoppable fury would wash over him.
It was then that I would start to worry. I wouldn't be scared, but boy would I worry. I had every reason to worry that night. Because that night, everything I'd hoped wouldn't happen, did.
PLEASE READ THIS EVEN IF IT IS AN A/N:
Hope you enjoyed! I'm just thinking about making this into an actual something, so if you liked this, please review. If I don't get too many reviews about this, I most likely won't be continuing it. But if I do, I'll make a chapter a lot longer than this one, I realize it's a rather short chapter. Dally will be pulled into the story in the next chapter, so please review!
-Attempting-To-Stay-Gold-