Sorry I haven't been updating most recently. I have been wanting to but I have been failing some subjects (3 at the least) and I need to do work to bring them up. Failing is not an option right now so updates after this will either be rare or wait until summer. Grades are important guys. SOWWY! ;A; Spring break is here and I'm **trying** to write during this time. Family and birthdays are mixed into it right now and graduation is around the corner!

Good news of the day: Got into NOCCA (look it up on Google if you don't know what it is) and got in for visual arts! Thanks to the people who supported me throughout this adventure and I appreciate every last bit of encouragement!

Onto the story~!

~Panda-chan

. . .

Matthew POV

The rest of the summer went by uneventful, no word from Gilbert since the texting parade and too many negative words on Alfred's end about wanting to "murder Gilbert because he has the nerve to have a crush on my little bro."

You could say that Alfred was just a little pissed.

Me on the other hand couldn't even process the situation. I couldn't tell if I reflected the feelings or just was thrilled someone liked me. I mean, there was a little crush for a while now but, did it even count anymore? He is avoiding me and I don't think that means he likes me. Also I need to make sure it's not something like excitement is the purpose I like him. I don't just want to lead him on! That's incredibly rude and unthoughtful of the other person's feelings. I just want to make sure before anyone gets hurt.

The first day of the school was nearing, almost around the corner you could say. Mama hadn't even done anything to me! Only because Papa and her went out on a retreat for a while and she came back with the thoughts of going sober. Talk about my dream coming true! Free from her herself and abusing me! Alfred wouldn't have to even worry anymore- not like he did much anyway. Maybe even Arthur could get off my back.

The night 2 or so weeks before school started was the night that would change a lot of things about me.

Papa and Alfred left the house to Mama and I so they could have bonding time on a hunting trip in the woods a good while away from here. I was working on putting up some movie posters to make my walls less bland. I heard Mama downstairs, thick glass moving and clinking together, then the rustling of a paper bag. I payed no mind to it at first, just Mama getting some of the sparkling apple juice she's been taking a fancy to most recently.

Well I didn't pay much mind to it at the moment, but if I did, the outcome of the situation would have been different.

I didn't hear anyone chug down a bottle- or 3- of wine. I didn't hear anyone slowly come up the stairs with the empty bottle, with some of the liquid remaining at the bottom. I didn't see anyone open my door nor did I see anyone glare at me with a pure hatred, so strong to send the Devil howling for God's protection. No. What I saw was me whipping around and getting hit in the forehead with a glass strong enough to break my skull and kill me. Fortunately for me, I got my father's thick skull.

"YOU TERRIBLE EXCUSE OF A SON!" She hit me again and I was on the ground. My vision wasn't swimming yet, but I lost my glasses on the floor somewhere. "IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU THAT I'M LIKE THIS!"

Dear God, please tell them. Tell Al I tried and tried to get up. Tell Gilbert I'm sorry that I never was able to say sorry for the misunderstanding. Tell Papa to take care of Mama if I die. Tell the others I want lilies at my funeral, or poppies, they're both so pretty.

My vision swam with red as she kept hitting me with that broken, musty bottle. I looked at her in a begging way, Why do this to your son?, my look seemed to ask. She visibly cringed and tightened her grip on the bottle neck, my drying blood on the bottom. She started to shake and her grip loosened, my breaths turned shallower and seemed to shake with my effort to continue living, clinging on to the hope someone would save me.

Mama, I know on the inside you're caring and loving. I need you to know that nothing was my fault, nor was it yours. It was our choices in the past and present that lead us to this point now. Because Papa choose Alfred I got to live with you. Because of the divorce and stress of being a single mother, you choose to drink. Drinking made you do this Mama, can't you see? Even with my broken self laid before you, I know it's not your fault. I still see the good in you. There's good in everyone and everything.

Mama, let me live and I'll prove that to you. Or will you make that final swing? The swing that will make the bottle break. The swing that proves to me that is not true. Mama don't let this evil control you. I am your son. I am born of your flesh and blood. Would you do this to Alfred? No. Because he is of more use to you than I, one who hides in crowds and is soft spoken. I who lives in the world of arts rather than of deafening noise.

I heard a door downstairs open and loud laughter. Thundering footsteps pounded on the carpeted stairs and Mama turned her head to see my bedroom door, just in time for it to open and for Alfred and Papa appear. They stare at Mama in horror, not yet noticing my crippled figure on the floor before her.

Alfred noticed first. He looked at me eyes wide with fear and a mixture of sadness, anger and guilt wrapped within and provided to me like a bad Christmas present. I opened my mouth to say something, although all that would come out was a sorry excuse of a gurgle of sorts.

That's when everything went dark.

. . .

Now that writer's block is gone and all, time to write! Going to write tomorrow night and hopefully post it by Saturday! Two chappies in one night tomorrow will get me ahead of time.

So should Matthew live?

[Don't kill the main character Panda-chan! ;A; ]

Bitch I just might ;3

Writing style in this chappie seems different to me, good or bad for you all? I wanna know so I don't get boring sounding.

Huggles and glomps~

Panda-chan~