WolFie MoonStone: Thank you! Lots of time off to write, lol. Only have one class this semester.
Watching the rain fall: Poor baby Ace. The three latest stories I've posted are angst for him. I'm sorry Ace!
This chapter may be the darkest out of the whole story. Heavy abuse and lots of suicidal thoughts and self-harm. And just plain old angst. Enjoy~
Ace didn't get hit at all over the weekend, which he didn't know if it was actually a good thing. Maybe if his dad beat him hard enough, it would negate the emotional turmoil he was in. Banging his head against the floor had given him a headache. He wasn't brave enough to try anything else, even though he had his own bathroom.
He barely slept that weekend, but didn't leave his room, not wanting to risk Roger being in the living room. He couldn't let the man see him crying. He would mock Ace for it, and that wouldn't help things. Ace ended up drawing, staying off his computer to close himself from the rest of the world for as long as possible.
Deuce's words played through his head in the background almost the whole weekend. He couldn't get any homework done, and took Xanax as often as he could without overdosing. He was careful with that.
By the time Monday came, Ace was numb. His eyes were shadowed, bags under them. He had the concealer applied. He looked sicky, but he went through the motions of class. Did his homework during his break between classes that he'd avoided all weekend. Well, not avoided. He just couldn't focus on it.
He had tried, but he made tons of mistakes, and it made him not only feel worthless, unwanted, alone, but also stupid. He didn't need that added to the toxic mix in his head. Marco had tried talking to him, but Ace ignored him. He did feel bad, since the guy seemed nice and genuinely concerned, but he couldn't deal with anyone but himself right now.
Instead of going to the library like usual, Ace walked up the hill on campus, and sat down in the icy grass, barely feeling the cold around and under him. His eyes burned with unshed tears. Keeping himself together for class was exhausting, and hard. When it was quiet, all he heard was his own voice putting him down. When it was noisy, he got antsy and wanted it to be quiet.
Stuck in a loop of being miserable no matter what he was doing. He hoped this would pass, but he felt it would only get worse before it got better.
When he got home, he walked straight to the kitchen to start dinner. At least it was something productive. Again, he wondered in the back of his mind if Roger's beatings would feel less painful than his thoughts and feelings.
Pausing at the cooking for a moment, wondering what he should do, he thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. Maybe, his dad would forget it happened. Maybe he would be angry about it. Maybe he'd cause worse damage than a bruise, and Ace could be hospitalized, getting a break from both school and home. That was the best case scenario as far as he was concerned.
He turned the stove off, and walked straight to the couch, not even thinking or worrying before he grabbed Roger's black hair and yanked it back. To say the man was surprised was an understatement. What followed was the worst beating he'd gotten ever. By the end, his nose was bloodied, his wrist sprained, new bruises and a cut across his lip, and best of all, a dislocated shoulder that he had to go to the hospital to be fixed.
He left the apartment without a word, satisfied with the outcome. He called 911 and felt relaxed and happy in the ambulance. He didn't worry about what he would come home to. And he didn't realize he'd only made things much worse in the long run.
Ace was excused from school the next day, though he wished he'd stay away longer. Not be around people unless necessary, but there was nothing he could do. What he didn't expect was to be in the hospital bed, wounds cleaned and stitched up, and see the police arrive. Ace's face drained of color when they entered the curtained area.
"We need to ask you some questions, Ace," the female cop of the two asked. The man sat down on a chair next to the bed while the other chose to stand. They had Ace tell them what had happened, making sure he knew it would not be in his best interest to lie. So, Ace told the truth.
He didn't understand the sad looks he was given when he said, "I deserved it. I made him mad, so he beat me. Like usual. I'm fine." Those words incriminated his father, making it clear this had been happening for a long time. When asked how long, Ace told the truth again. Since he was eleven.
By the beginning of the next day, Ace could no longer return to his home. He felt hatred towards himself even stronger than before this happened. Not only had his actions made his best friend hate him, it got his home taken away and father most likely in prison. This was not the intention Ace had when he provoked his father. He couldn't imagine how it could get worse.
-x-
Ace was back at school on Thursday, covered in bandages and bruises. He didn't have his concealer with him, it was at his old place. He was staying in hospital until they found somewhere for him to go. He had to call an Uber to take him to school since he wasn't allowed on his bike in this condition.
The small amount of belongings he cared about were in his hospital room. He was miserable at school, and his right wrist was in a brace, so it was hard to write. He was irritated when Marco asked him if he was alright. Clearly, he was not alright! Why didn't he just leave Ace alone? Ace wanted to be by himself. He didn't want to ruin anything or anyone else.
When Marco followed Ace out of class on Thursday, he was stopped by a familiar looking long haired man. "Marco, leave him alone. Don't pry," he snapped. Ace was grateful for his interference, but didn't say anything. He just left the building and hurried to the street to call another Uber to take him back to the hospital.
He felt empty when he was told he had to leave. Expecting to be taken to a homeless shelter, since the rest of his family was dead or disowned him, he was surprised when he was given a brochure. "What is it?" he asked dumbly, instead of reading what it said. He had his suitcases next to him in the lobby, signing out when a pamphlet was given to him.
"It's a place for youth in need of assistance. Not a homeless shelter. You'll be given counseling there, and have all the necessities to living comfortably until you're back on your feet." Ace thought her words were wishful thinking. He'd be dead before he got on his own two feet to live alone. Ace was going to finish this semester, graduate, and then see if he was going to kill himself. Maybe he'd find something good, though as he was now, he doubted that outcome.
He'd probably be dead in a few months. The car drove him and his belongings to a large estate, not too far from the city, but far enough to not have the noises of cars. Once Ace was allowed to ride his bike again, he would need to leave earlier to get to school on time.
The estate was big but homey looking, the building being made of wood exterior. He didn't know how long he'd be spending here. He had a bag of clothes, a bag of personal things like photos, and a bag of his school things and laptop. Not much, really. He had never realized how little he had. At least of the things he cared to keep.
Ace was greeted at the front door by a large, old man. He had a mustache that Ace thought was weird. He didn't think much besides that, not really caring. He barely heard what Newgate said. His name was strange to Ace, but then again his name was Ace. Newgate led Ace through the home and up the stairs, easily picking up the bags Ace couldn't carry with his good hand. The room he was given was nice, and he didn't need to share it with anyone else.
There were many rooms in the upper story hallway, and Ace's had his own name written on a whiteboard hanging on the door. Ace later met others who were there. There were many of them, though some looked happier than others. Ace was the only one who was visibly injured. He had trouble eating with his right hand, so he clumsily used his left. He wondered what Deuce would think of what happened.
Probably wouldn't care much. Ace barely listened as he was told that some of those at the table had stayed on the property and had been adopted into the family. The young man briefly wondered why they would want to stay.
He was shocked and horrified when Marco walked into the dining room. It was Saturday, so he hadn't seen him since two days ago. Ace didn't look much improved since then. Maybe looked even more miserable, getting barely any sleep the night before.
Marco looked just as surprised as Ace to see him there. But, he was courteous and didn't mention that he already knew Ace. The newcomer was embarrassed out of his mind, an emotion he hadn't felt in what felt like a long time. He didn't really understand how horrible he looked. Everyone at the table kept looking at him, like those at school had done.
He had various cuts, huge bruises, a wrist brace, and tape across his nose. He didn't have any concealer on, so that old bruise he'd hidden was still there. He was just lucky he hadn't lost any teeth in the beating.
Dinner was uncomfortable for him, but no one asked him invasive questions, and the moment dinner was announced to be over, Ace left the room and retired to his own. He wondered if Deuce had heard about what happened. He probably didn't care if he did. They weren't friends anymore.
Everyone was considerate enough to leave Ace alone that night. He didn't know if that was what he wanted. To be alone in a new place full of people he had never met. He fell asleep easily, the door locked, which he was used to. He was glad there was a lock on the door. When he woke up, he wasn't confused as to where he was. How could he forget what had happened? What he'd done, just to try and forget the pain.
His dad had every right to beat him to death after what Ace caused. And he wouldn't be surprised if the man broke out of prison to do just that. Ace looked at the brace on his hand and sighed. He turned on his side, wincing at the pressure on his cut lip and bruised face. There was a bathroom attached to his own, and he wondered if each bedroom had one. This place was more like a facility than a home. Ace briefly wondered how much money Newgate had to do this. But, the thought of interest fluttered away like a feather in the wind. It didn't matter. He didn't really care.
Ace walked into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. Punching it to shards probably wouldn't leave a very good first impression on anyone there. Plus, he didn't want to get hurt right now. He was too much of a coward to hurt himself on purpose, which was the reason he turned to his dad to put him in pain for him. And look how that fucking went.
He did take a shower, using the product that was already there. Smelled like coconuts. Ace didn't know why they would choose something that smelled this strong for someone on their first night there. Strawberry or faint lavender, but not fragrant coconut. He didn't hate it, he just didn't like it much.
His clothes were still in their bags, and he didn't care to open the bag and dig through it, trying to find a shirt, leaving the clothes all over the floor. He'd clean it up later, maybe. He was dressing in pants when there was a knock on his bedroom door. There was no peephole, even though that would be pretty neat.
"Who is it?" Ace asked in a monotone voice. He sounded exhausted, but he always was lately.
"It's Marco," Marco said quietly. "Breakfast is ready in case you want to come down." Ace wondered who he was to this place. Was he a worker, or did he live here, too? Ace was thankful he gave the option of not going down to eat.
"Thanks. I'll go down in a little bit," Ace replied. When Marco said okay, Ace leaned his forehead against the door, face crumpling into a look of misery. He would cause everyone trouble here, too. He had gotten his Xanax taken away for precaution after what Ace had admitted. About him purposely making Roger beat the living crap out of him.
He brushed his teeth with the one provided, still in its package to show it was new. He didn't think twice about the marks on his face, as there was nothing he could do about it. He had nothing to hide them with, but he didn't like the staring. He knew he'd stare, too, but didn't like being on the receiving end much.
Another knock on the door came, and Ace asked who it was again. It was someone he didn't know. "My name is Izo. I have something for you." Ace was surprised slightly, and opened the door to see the man who had made Marco stop following him the other day. Izo was very eccentrically dressed, with tons of makeup on. Ace made the connection that his eyeshadow looked like the one Marco had been looking at when they met each other at Sephora.
Izo held out a little jar of expensive looking cream. "It's concealer. It should match your skin color okay. I know what it's like to be ogled, so I wanted you to use this if you want." Ace tried to reply, but was getting choked up. Some stranger was being nicer to him than anyone had been in a long time. Not pity like the police and hospital staff.
"Thanks," Ace said with a thick voice, before slamming the door shut in the man's face. He hoped Izo didn't take it personally, and that Ace just didn't want to show his emotions in front of him. He wondered what Izo would be ogled at for that he didn't want from his flashy outfit and make up.
Then, he remembered that everyone here was homeless, and had some circumstance where they had nowhere else to go. So they were dropped off here. Some stayed, but those ones had to have come here for some reason at first themselves. He wondered why Marco was here. But, it was none of his business. Like Ace's situation was no one else's business either.
Ace applied to make up to his bruise eye and nose. It was the perfect shade, and he was impressed that Izo could tell just be seeing him a couple times. He took the creme with him when he was composed enough to leave the room, having taken many deep, calming breaths before opening the door.
He saw someone else walking down the hall, a clearly older man than Ace, with a very over the top hairdo and a scar on his face. Ace realized again that most of the people (all of them) were adults. He wasn't in an orphanage. These were adults, probably with jobs or going to school like Ace was. And Marco, too. Izo had been at school, too, so he probably attended college as well.
Ace had never had any siblings before, so he didn't know what it would be like. But then he scoffed at himself. No one here would like him enough to call him brother, and he didn't want to be. He walked down the stairs, and followed the nauseating smell of food into the dining room with that massive table that housed at least 16 people, including Ace. He was grateful no one stared, even though they noticed the bruise was not there anymore. But, they got the explanation when Ace handed Izo his creme with another thanks.
Ace sat at one of the empty chairs, of which there were many, and stared at his plate of food. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, and toast. The sight made Ace sick because this was exactly what he made for dinner at Roger's demand. He swallowed and slowly ate the food, clearly not enjoying it.
"Ace, you don't need to eat the food if you don't like it. There is some cereal and milk in the kitchen," Marco said kindly from across the table. Ace's face went red. He wasn't used to being around this many people except at school. They glanced at him, but didn't stare. The glance was enough to make Ace uncomfortable however.
He stood up and walked to the kitchen to find something to eat. All he could stomach was a banana, and didn't return to the table. Eating with a bunch of people had never been what Ace did. He always sat alone while Roger was passed out or on the couch.
Ace eventually gathered the courage to leave the kitchen and look around a bit. The kitchen was huge, clearly meant to feed at least a dozen or so people. The backyard was also pretty big from what he could see through the window. He didn't go outside for no reason because it was cold, so he wandered around the house some more. The upstairs was much more like a facility than the downstairs.
He found a door that led to the backyard he hadn't seen, and saw many cars parked in a parking lot. At the house, there was a parking lot. Ace had never seen anywhere like this before. He felt he hadn't even explored half of the downstairs before someone came across him. Ace was ready to get yelled at for not coming back and leaving his plate there for someone else to clean.
But, that's not what happened. "Are you wondering how big this place is?" a higher pitched voice asked. It was a mousy haired young man, shorter than Ace. "My name is Haruta. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but I know not everyone thinks about coming here being a good thing. Anyways, the house is 8,000 square feet. Not including the back yard or basement. If you want some place quiet, the basement is a converted lounge and library."
Ace nodded and thanked him quietly for telling him. "I -I'm sorry I left my plate of food at the table," he said, sounding ashamed. Haruta smiled, and said, "It's no big deal. Thatch ate your serving once it was clear you weren't coming back. If you're ever hungry, he kitchen is free reign."
"Thank you," Ace muttered. Haruta nodded and walked the way he had been heading. Ace decided he'd try the library/basement. He didn't ask for directions, just looked for a staircase that led down instead of up. It didn't take long to find. It was fully lit so it didn't give off a creepy feeling. There was no one else in there, and Ace looked around the surprisingly small space with sad eyes. Deuce would have liked this place…
He slapped his cheeks, but that hurt his bruises pretty bad and he swore, squinting at the pain in irritation. He dropped the thoughts of his ex-friend and looked through the books. Mostly fiction, with some encyclopedias thrown in. Ace had a feeling the inhabitants just put the books back on the shelves which was why nothing was in order.
Just to have something to do, Ace started reshelving the books. He had no homework, since he'd finished his program and his math homework wasn't due until Tuesday. He wanted to feel productive, maybe do something to contribute to something good? If that was what he was doing, then this wasn't very effective, but it was something and it kept his mind busy.
Eventually, someone entered the room, coming down the stairs. Ace hesitated to look up, not knowing if he was in trouble, or if someone was laughing at what he was doing. When he did look up, he found Marco looking at him. He had a bottle of water in one hand and a soda in the other.
"Need any help?" he asked. Ace shook his head and went back to work. It wasn't a massive library so it wouldn't take too long. "We've been meaning to do this for awhile, so thanks. You didn't have to, though." Ace didn't reply, not sure what to say. He was uncomfortable around others besides his teachers and Deuce. Now he was surrounded by strangers, his best friend non-existent anymore, and Roger was going to jail.
He really wanted to blame everything on Deuce and how his actions hurt Ace and made him want to hurt himself, and instead turning to someone else to do the dirty work for him. But he knew it was unfair and wrong to put all the blame on Deuce. He could take most of it, but Ace had been the one who couldn't handle the split.
Marco sat down on one of the couches, and politely didn't watch Ace, since he looked up and saw Marco was reading something he picked up off the coffee table. "Why are you here?" Ace asked bluntly. "Why do you keep trying to talk to me?" He didn't understand the interest Marco showed in him when his own friend and family don't show any interest in him anymore. Except to beat him up.
Marco looked over at him, wearing a frown. "You seem like you need a friend." The word almost had a visceral reaction in Ace. He scowled, surprising Marco.
"I don't need friends," Ace growled, and went back to his work. He was almost done, he wasn't going to quit now, even if he really wanted to leave the room.
"Hmm, I think everyone needs friends. And even if you don't want them, you should still have some," Marco replied smoothly, not commenting on how hostile Ace's tone had become so suddenly.
"Friends and family are bullshit. There's no one you can ever trust but yourself," Ace grumbled. He shoved the last book, which started with a "Z", into place and stomped up the stairs and away from Marco. Almost immediately, he felt bad. Marco was trying to be nice, but Ace just wanted to be left alone. At least for now. He wasn't ready to have new friends, and didn't expect to ever have family. The word had never meant to him what it meant to so many others.
Everyone holds their family on a pedestal. They were the best people. Yeah, well before Ace split with most of his family, he was told that Roger once pissed on him when he was crying as a baby. Yeah, family was the best. Blood ties had never been anything to Ace. Not when he was repeatedly beaten since he was a child for minor mistakes or just because Roger was having a bad day.
Ace resisted going back downstairs and apologizing. He instead walked back the way he came and headed to his new room, wanting to take a bath. He wondered if it was possible to drown yourself, but he didn't feel like trying right now. He tried to avoid talking to anyone when he was going back to his room, but he passed many people. He had to notice there were no women here. Not that he'd seen so far.
He didn't care much about the opposite sex any different than he did his own. In college, most of the smart women were in math, and sadly, there was only one woman in any of his programming classes. And he knew that lady was bothered by the leering she got from the guys in the class.
She dealt with it with grace and confidence. Shutting them down and insisting they were nothing to her other than classmates. It was necessary for her to be able to focus. Ace didn't know her name. Just that her major was in animation.
When Newgate crossed his path, he smiled down at him and handed him a piece of paper. "It's the schedule for counseling appointments. We have female and male counselors that come and visit the estate for visits. When you've decided when, please tell me."
"I don't need counseling," Ace said back, crumpling the paper in his fist. Newgate smiled sadly at him, and it made Ace bristle under the gaze.
"Almost every single person, regardless of age, didn't accept seeing a counselor, but if you ask any of them now, they will tell you it is a life saver. No one will force you, but I highly recommend you try. It's free here. Just give it a try," Newgate encouraged. Ace didn't reply, just stared at the floor until the man walked away, Ace hurrying up the large staircase.
If Ace went to counseling, they would know how messed up he was in the head. He'd get thrown inside an insane asylum or something. He saw no benefit of telling all his secrets to some stranger. He didn't believe that the people he met here all went to counseling, too. Newgate was lying, trying to make Ace feel better. Well, it hadn't worked at all.
He tossed the pamphlet into the trash next to his bed after tearing it apart. He didn't need to tell someone his problems. After all, the last time he did that, his father was convicted and he was sent to this adult foster-home-place. Ace was glad no one bothered him until lunch. Izo was at the door. So far, Ace liked him the most. He stopped Marco from prying and had brought him that concealer earlier that day. It had meant a lot to Ace, but he wouldn't let himself get attached. Not to anyone ever again. You can't trust anything anybody says. Always be prepared to be betrayed, like Deuce had to Ace.
"Ace, lunch is ready in case you are hungry," Izo said through the door. Ace didn't answer for a moment, but decided to and just thanked him. Ace sat on the bed for quite a while before he left to get food, walking slowly and trying to listen to anyone coming around the corner he was heading towards.
He looked at the whiteboards on each door. Some had doodles on them while others just had names. Ace made it to the staircase without seeing anyone and meandered to the kitchen, taking up the offer to not eat with everyone and to get his own food. He looked in the pantry, not wanting to take anything that had been cooked, and found some Cheerios. He poured himself a bowl and then filled it with only enough milk for it to work. He didn't want to waste too much on his worthless self.
He ate the cereal around the corner of the kitchen so it was less likely anyone would see him while he was eating. He was used to not eating too much, so he only had, really, half a bowl of the cereal. He didn't want to eat too much. No one bothered him, and he wondered if they just forgot he was there. Maybe this was what they did for everyone.
Ace barely peeked his head around the side of the cut out wall in the kitchen to see everyone laughing and talking with each other. A couple seemed down, but they were still interacting. Ace honestly didn't know how to talk to a group of people, let alone one of strangers. He might get overwhelmed. The laughing reminded him of how he and Deuce used to be in the prime of their friendship.
Thinking about him brought angry and hurt tears to his eyes, making them sting a bit. He turned around and strode to the library, hoping Marco was gone. He walked down the stairs and looked around to see that the blonde haired classmate was gone. Ace took a risk and closed the latch that led to the basement. He locked it, too. He needed to make sure he had alone time. And he didn't want to be in that bedroom that looked eerily like a hospital room.
The library was cozy and comfortable. He sat on the couch, looking at the cement ceiling above him. His phone didn't feel so heavy anymore, knowing his old friend was done with him and probably wouldn't send anymore messages.
If Ace killed himself, would Deuce even care? Would he feel responsible for it? The freckled man felt guilty and like a bad person for hoping it would make Deuce guilty and miserable. Everything started when he left Ace to carry the weights of his life alone. And he hadn't been strong enough to shoulder everything that had happened to him. He was weak.
He felt weak instead of strong for dealing with the physical abuse at home. Strong for being able to withstand the weekly or daily beatings. Weak for never fighting back. Never once, had he told Roger to stop, or fought back. He was scared it would only get worse, so he took the pain and hid it from everyone but his best friend.
Ace glanced at his phone, and tried to hook up to the wifi of this place. The one that popped up, the only one, was a strange name: "Whitebeard pirates". He was momentarily curious, but it fizzled away quickly. He went to YouTube and tried to watch something funny. But all the jokes that he would have previously thought were funny fell flat for Ace.
So, instead, he looked at the books, trying to pick one out. He wished he had his Xanax so he could maybe have some of his feelings dulled. He'd never overdose on them. At least, not now. He took them sparingly, wanting each bottle to last as long as possible.
While he read, which was just staring at the same page for a long time, he thought about the concept of counseling. He refused to do it. He refused to let someone else know how messed up he was. He had wanted the shit beat out of him. And that's not normal. He'd probably go to the mental hospital if he mentioned his sorta-kinda plan to kill himself.
Ace wouldn't talk to some stranger. He wouldn't.