Matthew could hear his parents yelling from the room next to him and covered his ears. His breathing was uneven and his chest rose and fell more than normal. Tears ran down his face and he pulled his knees to his chest to try and stop the pain his heart was feeling.
His parents were fighting about his brother Alfred and him because they were apparently "out of control" as they'd put it. Though, Alfred was actually the one who was out of control. Matthew was just… There. Watching from the sidelines all the time and trailing behind his older brother like a shadow to try and stop him from doing anything foolish.
If anything, Matthew was the good child. For the year that he was in college, he always made sure to get the best grades he could to get some sort of praise from his parents, but they focused all their attention towards Alfred like always. He still tried to get attention from his parents anyway possible in many ways like scoring the most on his hockey team and studying even harder than before.
But, his parents didn't notice any of it and thought he was being a lazy kid and didn't deserve his privileges. They stopped paying for his college and he was also pulled from his hockey team too. So now he spent his days a home doing chores all day and picking up the messes his brother made constantly.
Matthew's brother Alfred was the complete opposite though. Instead of going to college to get a degree, he mooched off of his parents and took their money for food and other things that he never spoke of. At night he would go to football games, party, brawl with others, and get drunk. Matthew's parents still saw Alfred as a precious boy no matter what he did though. Alfred could probably rob a bank and they would still have nothing to say against him. Until that night.
Matthew, Alfred, and their parents were all sitting in the living room having a nice chat with each other and everything was normal. Alfred would loudly talk about his day and boast about every little thing, Matthew would never get to say a word about anything (not like he had much to say in the first place), and their parents would sit there and nod their heads silently with radiant smiles plastered onto their faces. Alfred was the one who had set off the whole fight though.
"Hey mom and dad, I wanna go over to Jack's house tonight. He and I are dating now and things are getting pretty serious bros!", Alfred said excitedly with a nonexistent blush on his cheeks.
Now, something that you need to understand is that Matthew's parents are homophobes and don't approve of gay relationships. According to them, it was a major sin that you could commit and would give you a one way ticket to hell.
Matthew couldn't remember exactly what had happened after that except his parents started to raise their voices, yell at Alfred, and yell at each other. The only time he actually paid attention to their quarrel was when he hear his name being called by his mother.
"O-Oh. W-What did you say mother?", He said quietly, hoping he wasn't going to be pulled into the argument.
"Do you have a… Boyfriend as well, Matthew?", his mother said with a grimace on her face. She hadn't ever liked Matthew since the day he was born since he was such a pushover all the time. She believed that all men should be strong, independent creatures and that Matthew was the opposite.
Matthew nervously looked down at his shoes and fumbled with the ends of his hoodie sleeves. "U-Um… I had one once in eleventh g-grade, but it didn't last v-very long b-between u-us…" His voice got quieter and quieter with each word; he was scared of what his mother was going to say. He found it kinda pathetic that he was a legal adult, but was still scared of his own mom.
Just as he had predicted, his mother turned red with fury and his father just sat behind her on the couch with his arms crossed and shaking his head.
Matthew could feel his body fly out of the chair he was sitting in and his cheek burned like it was on fire. His hands flew up to cover his face and he went rigid in shock. Matthew slowly looked up to see his mother (whom wasn't a petite small person at all) standing over him and her hands poised to strike down at him. It clicked in Matthew's mind at that moment that his mother had just slapped him across the face.
She attempted to smack Matthew more, but Alfred thankfully came over and pried her off him. The two started to bicker again and Matthew slowly crawled away from the scene to find a place to hide.
As soon as he was out of the living room, he quickly crawled into the small coat closet right next to the front door and hid behind the big winter coats. Now that he was concealed in the darkness, his panic attacks started up.
His mind was being flooded with images of his disappointed father, his mother's face seething in rage, and the confused face his brother had in the beginning of the argument not even realizing what he'd done.
He could feel his breathing pick up exponentially and his entire body start to shake violently. He tried desperately to calm himself down, but every feeble attempt was kicked aside almost immediately by the images of his parents glaring down at him. Saying that he was a waste of space, he should have never been born, that he was a disgrace to humanity, and other unspeakable things.
His heart felt as if it was being crushed by someone's hand and he could feel tears running down his face. He could still hear his family screaming at each other and he could clearly hear his mother say, "I wish you two were never born!"
Now, these sort of arguments didn't happen that often. But, they happened often enough that Matthew would know exactly what would happen next. After the yelling would end, they'd just all go to bed and the other three would wake up as if nothing had ever happened while Matthew would still be emotionally scarred.
He covered his ears and put more and more pressure on them until the screaming sounded like mumbling. He stopped shaking and his heartbeat returned to normal as he was enveloped in the darkness's folds. He felt as if he wasn't even a part of his body anymore, like he was just a simple feather in the wind with little to no weight on him.
Matthew relaxed his tensed limbs and slowly uncovered his ears to see if his family were still yelling at each other. He slumped against the wall in relief when he didn't hear the roaring of his family, but was disturbed when he didn't hear anything at all.
It wasn't like his brother, let alone his parents, to get into an argument and let it go after… How long had he been in there again? Matthew blindly patted the cramped walls of the closet and switched on the light to glance at the wristwatch he was given from Alfred on his fourteenth birthday.
What was he thinking again? Oh yeah! It wasn't like them to pick up an argument and drop it after only thirty minutes… It usually lasted for hours.
Matthew held his breath and quietly waited for another shout to come from the living room area, or someone's room, or anywhere in the house. He waited and waited and got scared when he didn't even hear a cough or sniffle. It was the first, and hopefully the last, time he hoped that his family would start to yell at each other again.
Even if his family neglected him and forgot about his existence occasionally, he still loved them. Even if his mother slapped him and threw curses at him like they were nothing, Matthew still loved her like he did as newborn.
Matthew tentatively opened up the door a crack to see if he could see someone. He peeked his head out through the crack and slowly pulled the rest of his body out. He didn't want to make any sudden movements just in case they were still in there and were just giving each other the silent treatment. He'd prefer not to get slapped again since he could feel his cheek swelling slightly.
Matthew looked into the living room and immediately he felt all his senses shut down. His eyes widened to a nearly impossible size and his mouth opened in a silent scream.
Laying on the floor of the room were his mother's, father's, and Alfred's bodies quickly gushing out blood from stab wounds in their chests, necks, stomachs, and other vital regions. The blood was pooling around them and was slowly making its way towards him and staining the once white carpet a dark, deep red. His parents were limp and he could see his mother's eyes open, staring at the wall, but not able to see anything anymore. Blood caked her hair and a bruise was present on her face in the exact same spot she hit Matthew. She looked so different from when she was… Alive. Her eyes that were once filled with proudness and happiness whenever she saw Alfred come home were now replaced with the cold, desolated orbs.
Matthew knelt there in the doorway for God knows how long until his brain finally register what had happened. He fell onto his hands and knees and covered his mouth to prevent the screams to escape. Tears as big as pearls feel from his eyes and fell onto the back of his hand. He could feel something wet under his palm and he knew exactly what it was, but it only made him more distraught than he already was.
He slowly pushed himself back onto his knees and stared at the blood covered palms. The blood belonging to his mother, his father, his brother, his family, was now on him. It was his fault they were dead. He didn't know what had happened exactly, but he knew if he hadn't left, if he didn't have those idiotic fits every time his parents or brother had a small dispute, they wouldn't be laying on the floor dead now.
Matthew was close to throwing up, when he heard a cough and raspy breathing from his brother's "corpse". Now disregarding every previous thought, he quickly crawled towards his brother. He slipped in the blood and covered his hoodie and jeans in the red liquid, but his only focus was on helping his brother.
Matthew rolled over Alfred's heavy body and clasped his brother's hand like it was his lifeline. The tears were blinding him slightly and were getting all over the lens of his glasses. Alfred weakly lifted his hand that wasn't being held by Matthew and wiped away the tears on his face; only resulting in Matthew crying even harder.
Alfred smiled and put his hand over Matthew's. "It's okay Mattie, I'll be alright.", he croaked.
Matthew shook his head and his mane of messy blond curls flew around his face. "No Alfred it's not okay! I should have been here to help! What happened? Who did this? I need to call the ambulance!", Matthew said quickly, hopping from subject to subject.
Matthew's panicked rambling was silenced when Alfred covered his mouth with his bloody hand. The metallic taste slipped into his mouth, but he didn't care at that moment. All that mattered was helping Alfred.
"Mattie, it's not your fault okay?" Alfred's breaths were getting shorter and was as pale as a fresh sheet of paper. "We were all still arguing and this big man, who I don't know the name of, walked in and without warning, went after us with this metal pipe. A small woman came in after him and stabbed me a couple of times." Alfred gestured down to the fresh stab wounds in his chest. "I don't know exactly who it was, but I think it was-"
Matthew thought that his life couldn't get any worse, but then this day came. He found his parents dead and his brother clinging on to the few strands of life he had left. You'd think it couldn't get any worse, and if you did think that, then you just jinxed it genius.
Next thing Matthew knew was that Alfred's head (which he was supporting) was flung backwards and blood spattered into his eyes, staining everything he saw a red shade. He closed his eyes and easily cried out the blood only to open his eyes to see a small knife buried deep into his older brother's forehead. Matthew stopped shaking, he stopped crying, and he just screamed in agony at the top of his lungs.
It was probably the loudest he'd ever been in his entire life.
He squeezed out the last of his screaming and slumped over his brothers body, sobbing quietly. He could feel someone's presence behind him, but Matthew didn't care if they killed him anymore. It's not like he had anything to live for now that the only thing he had- his family- was gone.
Matthew heard heavy footsteps come closer to him and he hugged his brother's corpse tighter and tighter trying to protect it so they couldn't mutilate Alfred anymore than they already had.
A big, gloved hand grabbed Matthew by the hair and lifted him in the air just inches off the ground. He yelped in pain, but still kept hold of his brother. The man who was holding him tilted his Matthew's at an uncomfortable angle and his eyes met with a dark, piercing violet that sent shivers up his spine and made his skin crawl. A majority of the man's face was covered by a light tan scarf, but he could see some of his features. For instance, the man could easily be mistaken for a grizzly bear. That's how big he was. He also had very pale, almost off-whitish hair that poked out from a hat he wore over his head.
Unfortunately, this was all that Matthew could take in before a rusty metal pipe came swinging at his face and the image of the man and the blood covered room was replaced with darkness; which for the first time, didn't comfort him in the slightest.
oOoOoOo
The next two months flew by for Matthew. He was of course found by the police after his neighbors in the houses next door heard his screams. Except, when they'd found him they thought that he was the one who had murdered his family. No matter how many times he tried to convoke him he was innocent and didn't commit the crime, they brushed him off.
Even the evidence was clear it wasn't him. True he had their blood all over him and was even lying in it when they had arrived, but just one glance at his feminine stature and they'd be able to tell he couldn't even land a blow on someone, let alone kill them.
They took him into court and the lawyer appointed to him didn't even seem to care about Matthew. Despite the evidence and story from Matthew, no one believed him still and he was immediately sent to jail in the back of a police car.
Matthew was deathly silent on the way over and after that, all the memories were fuzzy. All he could remember were the empty feeling in his stomach, a temporary cellmate before they'd demanded to be appointed to a different cell since he though Matthew was crazy, and the piercing, violet eyes that haunted him everywhere he went.
Speaking of his old cellmate, the two were actually on pretty good terms for a short while. He wasn't too mean like most jailbirds were, even if he smoked like a chimney. Their friendship only lasted for a while though until nighttime came and the wardens shut down the painfully bright lights. The entire cell was pitch black with not a speck of light and it reminded Matthew immediately of him hiding in the closet back at his old home.
Even if he didn't hear them when he was actually in he closet, his mind was overcome with screams of his mother, father, and brother.
Matthew laid in his stone hard bed and tried to hide himself under the thin, dirty sheet trying to block out the phantom screams in his head. He eventually fell asleep three hours after laying in the bed, but he didn't stay asleep for long since he kept waking up from nightmares of the violet eyed man with the scarf.
His dreams mostly consisted of the man killing his parents in the way Matthew had imagined him doing it, but every so often he would wake up after the enormous man brutally murdering him.
Every night he was in that prison, he would wake up screaming at the top of his lungs just like he had when Alfred died in his arms until his throat was sore. His cellmate, whose name was Carlos, got fed up with being waken in the middle of the night from Matthew's shrieks and demanded a new cell. Apparently the guards understood where Carlos was coming from and took him away from Matthew leaving him alone in the dark cell.
After he was left by his cellmate, the months he was in there flew by and the memories were blurred. The soft, kind man he was before he'd come here had eventually formed into a cold, unforgiving man.
He'd learnt the ways of jail and had come to terms with them. If you fell, no one will help you. You'll just get trampled upon.
Even if he'd turned into a tough person with walls built around him, that didn't mean the walls had holes. At the end of the day when everyone was put back into their cells, Matthew took the walls down for a while and let all of his emotions out.
Basically, the months that he was there were torture for him. Being haunted by the violet eyed man, being left by the only person he thought he could rely on, and how this hell on Earth had changed him. Any person would get fed up with it eventually.
So he started to plan. He planned day and night on how he would break out of there. He used his odd tendency to fade into the background to his advantage to sneak around other inmates and guards to find the prison's weak points. His will to live, which had previously gone down the drain since coming here, had risen again.
oOoOoOo
It was lunch time. Or as the warden of this section liked to call it, feeding time.
Matthew laid on his rock hard bed with strands of hair in his face moving slightly from his shallow breathing. His eyes were halfway open gazing off into the oblivion and his limbs hung over the side of the cot. His face was unreadable, but anyone who knew him (otherwise no one) knew that he was reminiscing about something.
He'd been planning for weeks on how to escape, but hadn't gotten close to finding a realistic way out. So, he'd given up. Matthew gave up to his fate of living in the disgusting cell and being haunted by the murderer who'd killed his family only a few months ago.
He heard the clatter of dishes and concrete by the cell door and slowly looked up to see the watery slop, laughably called food, sitting in a styrofoam bowl. Matthew was about to adjust himself back into his relatively comfortable position until he saw that somehow his cell door was still cracked open by a fraction of an inch.
Not believing his eyes, he quickly sat up, cleaned his filthy glasses, and cautiously approached the door as if it was possessed. He gently pawed at the rusty door and cringed as it slowly creaked open with a loud groan.
Thinking he was dreaming, he stepped out the door slowly and gasped at he was overwhelmed with a new sense of freedom.
"I have to be dreaming. This is not possible." Matthew looked down the hallway decorated with the bars of cells and saw two guards practically throwing the bowls of slop to the prisoners.
Matthew was about to step back into his cell before he was caught, but realized something: he could easily escape right now. The inmates across from him didn't seem to notice him at all even though they were looking at his general direction and even after the door opened, the guards down the hall hadn't noticed him yet.
Matthew sucked in a breath and slowly let it out. His breaths were shaking and his hand, that was still clutching a bar of his previous dungeon, was turning white. Matthew took a step forward and let his hand slip off the cold metal to his thigh.
Step after step. Step after step. Each step, the closer to freedom.
oOoOoOo
Matthew had somehow managed to sneak his way around the building and had stolen back the few belongings he had when he'd come here in less than ten minutes. He quickly changed into his jeans and baggy, red hoodie and immediately set out to find an exit in the maze-like complex.
The soft pattering of his feet filled the tiled hallways until they suddenly stopped when he abruptly halted in front of a door with an exit sign hanging above it by two small chains.
He'd never thought he'd be so happy to see the eye-burning red of an exit sign in his life.
Without a seconds hesitation, he flung himself out of the door and heard the crunching of gravel underneath his feet. The sunshine blinded him and a small breeze blew through his curly locks.
As much as he would've liked to enjoy his moment of peace and freedom, he couldn't for long since a loud, ear shattering alarm went off and his utopia was interrupted.
His instincts that he'd gotten from being in prison had sprung into action and Matthew fled from the scene, leaving the flimsy, metal door hanging open. He felt like he was flying from how fast he was going. Each step carried him three feet and he didn't dare to stop. In fact, he wasn't even looking where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to get the fuck out of that area.
In mid-stride, Matthew reached behind him and clumsily pulled on his hood to hide his face so hopefully no one would recognize who he was.
"They're gonna find me, they're gonna find me. God, I'm so dead!", he chanted in his head as he leapt over everything in his path. Tears involuntarily ran down his cheeks and flew back in the wind.
To anyone who saw him, he must've just been some sort of odd red and white blur. Matthew heard the alarm fade off into the distance a long time ago, but that didn't mean he was going to stop. Or at least that's what he thought until he tripped and face planted onto the rocky concrete below him.
Matthew knelt on his knees and held his dirty palm to his cheek trying to numb the pain, but only succeeded in making it sting more. He bit his lip and muffled a scream of pain. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from his face and saw that it was now bloodstained.
He would've fainted right then and there, but he was in the middle of a cop chase. He didn't have any time for that then.
He heard the sirens in the distance and quickly- and ungracefully- picked himself off the ground while ignoring the sizzling pain on his cheek. He started to run again and occasionally wiped his face to get the -now dripping- blood off of his face before he left a trail for the police to follow.
He was not going to take any risk in this. Who would, jeez?
oOoOoOo
Matthew had finally gotten away from the damn cops, but he still jumped at any loud sound he heard. And now that he was in the middle of a big city nearby, he probably looked like he was having a seizure.
Every honk of a car, every dog bark, and the fights that broke out on the sidewalks constantly made Matthew jump a foot in the air or flinch as if someone was going to smack him. Think it's pretty obvious that prison had scarred him for life.
Matthew was starting to get fed up with the noise though. It made him uncomfortable and he felt as if everyone was looking at him. So, to get away from all the commotion, he set out for a small, unnoticeable shop for him to hide in.
Unfortunately, almost every store had at least twenty or more people wandering in them. He kept walking further and further down the road an the area began to form into the downtown area where fights and druggies hung around.
If he thought he was scared earlier, it was nothing compared to now.
Homeless guys sat on every corner and took drugs in the open. Prostitutes were leaning against cars talking to each other and making suggestive gestures to the air in front of them. And everywhere, and he meant everywhere, people were smoking like a forest fire.
Matthew pulled on his hoodie strings and tried his best to keep hidden, not stand out, and not breath the disgusting cigar smoke. So far he was succeeding at all of them.
He'd just got past all the smokers and stopped in front of a cafe that'd caught his eye. It wasn't very noticeable since it was surrounded by taller buildings and the 'potential customers' in the area didn't seem to care about what it was selling. It was made out of faded red bricks that had graffiti on them and the giant glass windows were caked in grime.
Thinking this was the perfect place to hide in, he grabbed the loose brass handle and pulled open the door.
oOoOoOo
Woo... I'm finally done! Believe it or not, but this is the longest chapter I've written so far in my totally legitimate author career. Now just to edit this real fast and post it… After school ends… BURN SCHOOL BURN!
If there are any mistakes, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF DOITSU point them out to me. I'm trying to improve my writing, but I'm having a difficult time because:
1: I don't have a beta...
2: I DON'T KNOW HOW TO GET A BETA! QAQ
3: If I give this to my mother to correct (she's an awesome english teacher~) she'll probably think I'm a psychopath.
Hetalia does not belong to me and good bye brofasas. Stay awesome you here me? HEAR ME!? (I should not have had sugar…)