Wut? Updating again in less than a week? I was listening to Billy Talent and stumbled across a few songs by a band called Oomph! as well, so just had to right more.
DISCLAIMER: Obviously I don't own APH or the characters; just the idea for this story.
Count the Scars PART 2
After I had managed to calm the fear rising in me enough to breathe without thinking, I desided to speak no matter how pitiful the vocabulary I'd manage would be. "W-hat do y-you m-mean?" I whispered, quieter than ever. A chuckle was all I heard.
"Well, I'll be seeing you... Alot more often." Ivan said cheerfully, his dangerous laugh echoing in my head as he stood up. I stared down at my hands, wide-eyed in fear as he walked away. What could he be planning to do...? I thought as I slowly stood up from the swing seat, turning on my heels in the direction of my home and began to sprint. I've got to avoid him! I can't let him get to close or... or... I slowed enough to fling the front door open without running into it and nearly crashed into my father. "Matthew! Where the Hell were you?" he shouted. "Honey, don't yell." I heard my mother say sharply from the living room. They must of found out about the party.
My father grabbed my shoulder painfully hard as he slammed the door shut, pulling me into our small livingroom. There I saw Alfred, sitting on the couch with his head hanging and our mother standing next to him with her arms folded. "Sit!" both parents comanded, pointing to the cushon next to my brother. I scurried over obediently, glaring at Alfred when he flashed me an appolagetic look. It was uncomforably silent for a minute until our father desided to speak. "Gilbert's father overheard a call about a party. At. Our. House." he said, obviously having trouble refraining from yelling again. "So were told about it. We've had to postpone our buissness trips until next week." our mother continued irritibly, "And apperently, Matthew, not only did you not try to stop it, but you even agreed to buy the snacks and liquer for this party! I expect so much more from you!" she finnished. Hearing that made her husband totally snap. "Liquer? LIQUER? You idiots were planning on drinking at your age? What the Hell is wrong with you?" he screamed, face red and vains popping out on his temples and neck. He was angery and beyond any controle, and, fate is so cruel, desided to pick me to take his anger out on.
I can't say which hurt more, when his fist made contact with my face or my mother's increadibley high-pitched scream. She should be used to it by now, though; every time Alfred does some thing stupid, our father punishes me. The force was still enough to make me fall into my brother, though. He caught my wrist to stop me from falling into the glass coffee table, but gasped and let go any how. Why would he- Oh my God. I didn't roll my sleeves down. I tried to scramble away, but Alfred grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him, grabbing my arms to look at my wrists. "M-Matt! Your wrists! Why?" he shouted in disbeleif. I started squirming and struggling, trying to escape. This would only worsen the situation! A strong hand grabbed my hood and ripped me from Alfred's grip; I didn't know a person could look so red. "You cut yourself? To top it all off you're a fucking emo bastard?" my father screamed, grabbing the front of my hoodie and lifting me a little off the floor. Getting him that weight lifting set for a Christmas present a few years ago was quite obviously a bad idea. He sort of threw me at the wall, knocking the wind out of me; I scrambled away, coughing. He charged after me like a raging bull as I sprinted up the stairs to my room. I barely made it to the closet of a bedroom and locked the door before my father could grab me again. "FUCK!" he swore, the loud thump most likely indicating that he had punched my white door.
[LATER]
It took another hour before things calmed down; only then did I finally let my legs give out under me and leaned against the door, sliding down it until I finally hit the floor. I would have cried, but the throbbing in my cheek was to painful to have the distraction of an emotional break down. Why did I even bother to continue living? My parents hated me, my brother took advantage of my lack of confidence, I was invisible to the entire student body, and now some six-foot sadistic creep was planning to do God knows what to me. Maybe deep down I just didn't want to give every one the satisfaction of not having to deal with me any more. But what ever it was that kept me from killing myself couldn't stop me from crawling over to my bed and pulling the razor out from under my pillow. I pulled myself onto my bed, flopping over onto the sheets and grabbing my stuffed bear. The fluffy white teddy bear was my first and last gift ever, so I didn't think it was that childish to still be so attatched to it. I bit my lip as I proceded to slowly slice the already scarred skin of my wrists. They would regret abusing me like this one day... They really would. I placed three cuts on each wrist; two for the punch to the face, two for being thrown at the wall, and two for the danger that Ivan would undoubtebly put me in. Every pair of cuts I etched into my skin represented something really bad that had happened to me, and that was a very long list considering there was to many to count any more.
I shoved the slightly bloody razor back under my pillow and pulled my sleeves down past my hands, hugging my bear, Kumajiro, close as I curled up on the sheets. Sleep. I needed to sleep so I could get out of the house before my father got up in the morning the next day. I stared blankly at the white walls of my room, barely seeing the red trimming in the dim light. Every thing was so white. So sterile. It was so painfully pure and unstained; it was so hard not to just take buckets of red and black paint and just fling them at the walls, floor, and ceiling. The only thing that wasn't white were my cloathes, my bed, the small pile of sketch pads and pencils in the corner that made up the rest of my non-school belongings, and Kumajiro's black beaded eyes. When I saved up enough money, this white room would finally become a darker, more impure looking place like I had always wanted it. And with that passing thought, I fell asleep.
In news totally unrelated to the story; I saw K'naan live in concert at midnight! My throat hurts from screaming, cheering, and singing along and my head is throbbing from others doing the same, but I'm happy! :) I hope you liked this chapter as much as I liked writing it, I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner than later.