A/N you people better love me I flung myself out of bed at 1:30 in the morning just to write this for you people so you'd better review
JAWX THORN according to sleepy hollow yes there is a vein there however read the fic you'll find out what happens.
I awoke to the feel of a boot colliding with my already bruised ribs.
"What the hell're you trying to do!" my father growls out at me, this time sober, "you stupid fuck you don't even have the balls to kill yourself right instead you just go bleeding all over my carpet."
Groggily trying to wake up fully I look down at my wrist which is covered in blood but shows no sign of having been cut even though I remember bringing the knife down towards it but not much else. I place my hand down on the ground to lever my self up on to me feet, but pain lances though my palm jerking my arm out from under myself I fall sideways hissing through my teeth at the pain. I open my palm to find a deep gouge across the center. I stare at it blankly trying to figure out how I ended up cutting my palm instead of my wrist until a sharp kick to my burnt back sends me off balance. I manage to gracefully roll to my feet with my hand tucked to my chest.
Anger boils up inside of me as I stare at my father for once completely sober yet still just as repulsive as when drunk if not more so for now I can no longer simply blame it on the alcohol he drinks, the cruelty is all just apart of his nature.
"Well are you going to fucking answer me or not? You idiotic queer?"
At his words I physically feel something inside of me snap as I launch myself at him. I catch him off guard and manage to pin him to the ground, and get in a few of shots to his nose, which erupts with blood after the second. My father grabs my right arm and swings his left leg across over my arm, hooks it around my neck, and slams to the ground. He then swings his other foot over my torso holding me in place with my arm trapped between his legs. He then arches upwards the same time he yanks my arm down as fast as he can. There is a second of complete silence as I try to register what happened, then the pain from my now broken elbow shoots through me and a desperate agonized blood curdling scream rips its way out of my throat. My father seemingly just realizing what he did flings my limp arm at me as though burned. I curl up around my arm sobbing no longer caring about how I appear.
"It's ok. It's ok. Don't worry I'll get you to the hospital. Just tell them that you were jumped. You didn't seem their faces got that?" my father pauses just long enough for me to nod my agreement before continuing to ramble on to himself while going through my draws to find me something to wear. He then crawls over to me and roughly forces a pair of pants onto me. He then yanks my hand away from where it was cradling my broken elbow and shoves it though the sleeve of a button down shirt before wrapping the shirt tightly around me with no regard for my burnt back or broken elbow that is now being crushed by the shirt as his thick fingers fumble with the buttons. Once clothed he hauls me to my feet ad shoves me, stumbling, out to the car. I barely manage to get in and close the door before he takes off towards the hospital.
At the hospital he tells a nurse some story about how I had stumbled home naked, and beaten. After the forms are filled out I am led to a hospital room and sit down wincing t the pain. A doctor comes in and starts asking me questions. I nod and mumble out the responses my father told me to use. After looking me over he cleans out my wounds and bandages them up. He then numbs my elbow, increasing my detached feeling, and resets it. He then starts going on about therapy and staying at the hospital while I heal. I nod sleepily, struggling to keep my eyes open. The nurse then comes back and helps me into a wheelchair. She takes me to a different room where she helps me into a bed. I fall asleep seconds after I lie down to tiered and numb to do anything else by this point.
I spent the next two months in the hospital. My father came to visit almost everyday the fist week, but I haven't seen him since. Then next week Momiji found out about the story that was printed in the newspaper and came to visit. He spent the entire time trying to convince me to tell him what happened. He continued to visit though I scheduled my physical therapy for the same time to avoid him and his questions. When I couldn't avoid his visits I pretended to sleep. He knew I was awake but went along with it and didn't ask me any questions in instead opting to tell me about what was happening in school, with my father, and the rest of the world in general. He brought my books and class work; I had lost interest and had trouble focusing on any of the work, so it just sat on the nightstand.
When I got out of the hospital my teachers and classmates all asked how I was doing for the first week and then went back to acting like I didn't exist.
Two weeks after I was released from the hospital I walk in to the house expecting to find my dad drunk in his recliner, but am mildly surprised to see him sober and talking with a friend. I try to slip quietly past with out being noticed so that I can go lie down in my room. But am caught halfway down the hall.
"What you're no longer saying hello to your father now?" I'm questioned as he stands up and walks toward me.
"You looked busy," I mumble towards the floor.
"I'm never to busy to say hello to my son. How was school?"
"Ok. Can I go now?" I ask trying to discreetly edge back towards my room.
"Yeah sure."
With that I'm down the hall and in my room in record time. I fling my backpack onto the foot of my bed and then lie down knocking it off.
A few minutes later the man my father was talking to comes into my room with out knocking.
"What are you doing in here?" I ask not bothering to move from where I lay.
"I wanted to talk to you."
"What about?" I ask now sitting up distrust clear across my face and tingeing my voice.
"Not much. Do you know what I'm hear for?"
"Obviously not to talk."
A slow smile spread across his sending chills down my spine, "you'll figure it out quickly," he says walking towards me.
I blink slowly trying to get my thoughts to connect with each other instead of flitting quickly through my mind. My eyes widen as thoughts finally connect to show the whole picture. By then it's to late to do anything. I am tackled with him straddling my hips. He quickly flips me over and grabs my arm twisting it behind my back, gasp out desperately fighting the tears that spring to my eyes as the freshly healed tissue stretches painfully. I lie limp hoping that he'll loosen his grip. He pulls my pants down around my ankles and slams painfully into me for what seems like forever until he empties himself into me. He then leaves without another word just like my father had done.