AN: You know how it happens; when you're lying in bed thinking about what should happen in your fanfiction when suddenly phrasing just…happens. And you have to get up to write it. That's what happened with the end of this chapter. Then in school today I just…wrote the rest. How enjoyable.
Disclaimer: Has there been an announcement for the 200 episode series? Then the answer is still no.
Chapter 3: The escape
A month passed. October turned to November as the temperatures cooled. Not enough yet for even a jacket, so I didn't start scouting out one for Mello. Although, he probably had one hidden away somewhere, or at least could find one.
My parents had gotten worse if you can imagine. While they argued constantly before, my father in particular had gotten much more violent. He wasn't working anymore, and his face was unshaven. He had a permanent scowl stuck on his face and his hair, once dark brown, looked almost black with grease. I guess unemployment also equals no hygiene
My mother never worked, so I don't know where our income was coming from; or if we had any at all. There was even less to eat around the house than usual, and I also noticed my mothers wedding ring was gone. Despite the arguments she had with my dad, she loved that ring. She'd also stopped straightening her hair, leaving it long, curled, and fiery red. Just like her temper. Joyous.
Mello had taken to actually walking with me back to my house. He didn't say why, and I didn't ask. The day he'd come back he had simply stood with me and we'd walked to my house together.
So now, a month later, him walking me home had become a normal occurrence.
"You've been getting beat up a lot lately," Mello commented nonchalantly as we left the alley and started down the sidewalk. No one stared at a homeless boy around here; it wasn't exactly a rare occurrence.
I shrugged. "I guess."
Mello glared. "When are they getting a hold of you? You get there much too quickly after school lets out for it to be then."
Wow, stalker much?
"Well before school…you know…lunch."
I'm really starting to doubt he believes me. He questions me a lot more now. I was admittedly getting more bruises lately, but he just spoke with this self-confidence that screamed 'I know your secret'. But if he did, I at least knew he wasn't leaving me alone because of it.
"Of course," he responded airily. "That would make sense."
Okay. Totally doesn't believe me.
The rest of the walk was silent, and by the time we reached my house night had fallen. I paused at the door, hesitating. I couldn't explain why, but I had a bad feeling.
If Mello noticed, he didn't mention it. "Bye."
"See you tomorrow," I muttered as he began to walk away. Sighing to myself, I slowly turned the doorknob and went inside.
It was quiet, so I was immediately alert. It was never this silent in the house. The lights were off, so I cautiously moved in, shutting the door quietly behind me. Hoping to make it safely to my bedroom, I navigated through the small one-story house quickly. Luckily I only had to pass through the living room to get there.
I let out a silent breath of relief when I got inside and dropped my bag to the floor. I closed the door and turned around, but at that moment I realized that something was not right. I felt like I was being watched, I heard breathing, I heard footsteps.
Before I could retreat something hard connected with the side of my head. An explosion of pain and shock ripped through me and I couldn't suppress a gasp as I was thrown sidewise into my dresser.
Another blow struck my shoulder this time. I blocked my head with my hands, backing myself away and past my dresser. I didn't get very far before I stepped on something. It rolled under me and I fell backwards, landing hard on the floor.
My foot knocked the object away as I scrambled backwards (Glass. A bottle. Alcohol?). A foot planted itself firmly on my chest, increasing the pressure, holding me down. "Where are you going Mail?" (Mail. My name was Mail here, not Matt.)
I recognized the voice, my fathers' voice. But this was strange. He sounded almost sober. He never came after me like this when he was sober.
He leaned over me, backhanding me sharply when he was close enough. My eyes, adjusting to the dark, could finally see his face.
It scared me. He'd obviously been drinking, but I could tell he wasn't drunk yet. Despite that there was a cold anger in his eyes that I rarely saw, and it was scaring me. More then I really want to admit.
He grabbed my hair and I yelped, using my hands as leverage to raise myself higher, hoping to lessen the pain. He sneered at me. "You know what I have because of you?" His foot lifted off my chest to kick me in the side. "NOTHING!"
I couldn't breathe for a moment, curling instinctively at the pain. He snarled and released my hair, allowing me to fall to the floor. "You and that whore of a woman! Giving you my money for food and this house with nothing in return!"
I desperately crawled backwards, head pounding and side aching. It didn't take long for me to hit the wall. My dad grabbed the bottle lying on the floor and threw it straight at me.
Luckily his aim was off a bit. It hit my shoulder instead of my head, but the impact against my shoulder and the wall caused it to shatter, glass crashing to the floor around me. He was shouting at me getting closer, closer.
I desperately snatched up a larger piece of glass, but my dad simply grabbed my hand, squeezing it hard enough to force the glass deeper into my own skin. It hurt, there was blood, I couldn't pull my hand away and he wouldn't let go!
I kicked out at his legs as hard as I could until he let go. As soon as he did I stood and fled the room, pulling the glass fragment out as I went and stumbling into the living room.
A hand twisted into the material of my shirt and pulled me back. My dad is a big guy. My struggling only made him kick the back of one of my legs, forcing them to go out so I tumbled to my knees.
Another slap to the face. I could taste blood in my mouth. A loose tooth? Split lip?
"Because of you two I can't afford to buy any more alcohol! I can't even gamble to get more money!"
He was still screaming, but something else occurred to me. The two of us?
Sensing my thoughts, my dad smirked. "Oh and your mother? Did you just remember her?" He reached over and turned the light on.
My mother was sprawled across the carpet a few feet away. I could see her breathing, but that wasn't what shocked me. My dad might have broken things, shoved things around her, but to actually hurt her…
I didn't know how to react to this. My dad had never hit me this hard, and he had never actually struck my mom. But now she was lying on the floor, bleeding and unconscious, and I was curled on my side as another kick made contact with my ribs. It all hurt so much and I couldn't take it. I just needed to get out.
I kicked my dad in the shin as hard as I could and this time he went down, if only for a minute. I stood and stumbled to the door, scrambling out as fast as I possibly could only to come face to face with the last person I was expecting to see.
Mello met my eyes silently then reached forward, grabbed my hand, and started to run.
I trailed along behind him, trying to keep up. This was all happening so quickly, but I knew Mello would look after me. He'd keep me safe, I just knew he would.
He wasn't leading us back to our alley. That wasn't safe at night. But where was? Not the park, or the school, or the streets. I stumbled and fell to my knees, the impact barely registering as I tried to remember how to breathe. In, out. Slowly. It hurt to even take a breath, to move, to think even. But Mello was pulling me up, reassuring me that we weren't far away now.
And I believed him. I believed him because it hurt to think otherwise, because I needed to get somewhere away from home, because this was Mello. Mello who had protected me before he even knew me, who started walking me home, probably to look out for me. A memory popped up then, a dark night and a blur of movement, two men following me then vanishing, Mello a bit beaten up the next time I saw him
So I believed, I followed, I trusted, because honestly no one had ever shown they cared as much as Mello. And with him leading me I honestly thought everything might end up alright.
/…/…/…/
AN: I love this Matt. I mean, authors all write Matt different ways, and some change his personality based on the story. I've never made him this sarcastic before, but I think it really fits with his life and personality. I personally like this chapter, it turned out better than I expected. And Eowyn Shadeslayer, I tried to add that description you wanted. I hope it didn't fit in too awkwardly.
So review, tell me what you think!