Hope you enjoy this chapter, it is sad but things will get better.
TW- sexual abuse, drug misuse.
The low light of an old television illuminated the living room of a small dingy apartment. The gentle hum of the tv floated through the otherwise quiet room. Due to the late hour the volume had been turned down low to avoid disturbing the neighbours. But the noise was enough to make the occupant feel less alone. There was a coldness clinging in the air that the old boiler did nothing to remedy. But Bailey considered himself lucky enough to have a roof over his head. He was curled up on the sofa, a thick blanket was draped over his shoulders in an attempt to prevent himself from freezing. Tears streamed down his face as he exhaled shakily. On long nights like this the loneliness in his heart felt unbearable. The emptiness of the humble apartment did nothing to comfort him; the flat was devoid of any character. As He didn't have many things, only a few items of furniture and an old photograph. The picture had been one he'd found on the internet and printed off in the local library. His parents weren't big fans of social media but after a week of searching he had managed to find a photo of him and his dad at one of the CFD picnics. Unfortunately he'd been unable to find any photos of his mother or even his step brothers.
"I'm sorry" Bailey whispered softly as he gazed down at his fathers smiling face, he missed his dad. He missed the long summer days they'd spend fishing or working on one of his boat projects, he missed his conversations with his mom first thing in the morning, he missed helping he with breakfast, he even missed playing dolls with Lily. He missed his family.
But he could never go back, he wasn't the person they loved. He was damaged. He could still feel hands pinning him down, the sensation of someone's breath grazing his neck, the feeling of someone touching him. He should've fought back harder, he should've done more. Instead he ran away like a coward. As his thoughts continued to rampage round his head the walls began to close on him. The sound of the tv became even more muffled and a cold shiver crept down his spine. Clumsily he scrubbed at the tears staining his face before pushing himself up off the sofa. He shivered at the loss of heat the fluffy blanket provided and sprinted into the bathroom. He promptly emptied the contents of his stomach into the foil before collapsing onto the floor. He laid there for a little while before stripping off his clothes and jumping in the shower. He was well aware that three in the morning was an odd time to have a shower but he was desperate. He needed the feeling of hands touching him to stop. In the past the feeling of hot water spraying over him had helped ease his panic ; as there was no hot water he supposed a cold shower was good enough. He allowed the ice cold water to cascade over him until his skin began to sting, but even then he was reluctant to leave the shower. His thoughts had finally begun to settle down but he knew as soon as he returned to the living room his thoughts would intensify again. Deciding against spending another night staring blankly at the tv he quickly threw on a set of clothes, they didn't fit him very well, the hoodie dwarfed his slender frame and the jeans barely stayed up but they were good enough. He switched off the tv before heading out of the apartment his body moving on autopilot. Bailey wasn't even sure if he remembered to lock the door.
Bailey walked for as long as it took the pounding in his chest to settle. This wasn't a one off occurrence he often found himself wandering around aimlessly whenever he was unable to sleep. It was better than suffocating in the loneliness of the apartment. After a year of sleeping on the streets walking alone at night no longer scared him. It wasn't that he was stronger or braver now, it was simply that he no longer cared. It was hard to fear for your life when you put very little value on it. Despite what anyone else would think Bailey was ok, he was in better place mentally than he was when he left Chicago four years ago. He had a job working at a local garage and he had a roof over his head; he supposed there wasn't much more he could really ask for. After all he didn't deserve anything better.
It wasn't until he was startled by the loud sound of a bus he realised where he was. It seemed that no matter how long he walked for he always found himself reaching the bus station eventually. Every time the young man found himself standing outside the familiar building he contemplated going inside and getting on the first bus to Chicago, it wasn't like he had many people to say goodbye to anyway. The people at his job wouldn't miss him and as for his neighbours he doubted they would even noticed his absence . The only person that did truly care about him had been trying to persuade him to go home for years. But in the end Bailey always found himself heading back to his apartment feeling even worse than before. He'd do anything to return to his old life but the truth was it ended a long time ago. He'd messed everything up, his family would've moved on by now ; returning would only cause them more pain. Bailey made his decision and he had to live with it. He knew his family would never want him back, he was too broken.
