A/N this fic has major angst beware

"Ron? Where are you?" Mr. Weasley called from the kitchen. Ron was sitting in the garden listening to music, when he's father staggered out from the house.

'Oh no not again…' Ron thought as Mr. Weasley stared at him with unfocused eyes. Ron sat and pretended not to hear his dad hoping he would go away, it sometimes worked. But not this time, Mr. Weasley walked unsteadily towards his son and looked down to where he was sitting on the grass.

"Get up, boy!" Mr. Weasley barked and Ron turned his music up and was about to get up but he wasn't quick enough. Mr. Weasley had grabbed his son's hair in both hands and was pulling him to his feet. Ron suppressed the urge to shout in pain and stood and stared at his father. Mr. Weasley let go of his hair slowly, letting it fall limply down Ron's face again.

"Get inside!" He spat and Ron obeyed, they were the only two in the house, Mrs. Weasley was out with Ginny shopping and the twins were at their shop, Percy, Charlie and Bill were all working away from Home. This was one of the earliest times of the day that Ron could remember, a new record for his father to get slaughtered before 2pm in the afternoon. Ron walked fast into the house to avoid his father's fist and he tried to go upstairs but he was stopped by Mr. Weasley's fingernails digging into his arm. Ron stopped and reluctantly came back down the one step he had gone up and faced his dad.

"How dare you look at me like that!" Mr. Weasley slurred and punched a fist into his stomach. Ron curled over in pain but stayed standing; one punch was nothing, just the beginning. Mr. Weasley would never touch Ron's face because then he couldn't hide the bruises. Ron clutched at his stomach when his dad pulled on his hair to stand up again, Ron obeyed suppressing his tears. It didn't matter if he broke down when he's father was hitting him, it seemed to edge him on more. Mr. Weasley looked at Ron and lifted his hand to slap him when Ron didn't flinch Mr. Weasley smirked.

"Get out of my sight!" He shouted and Ron quickly climbed the stairs but didn't run, and he closed himself into his room. Ron could hear his dad dropping things and slamming doors as he turned up his music to drown him out. Ron put on his favourite band and was singing along when he burst into tears. He put his face in his hands and grabbed at his own hair to try and regain control.

'I hate him so fucking much! He's not a father… How doesn't anyone realise?' He thought as he made himself angry, he clenched his fists and resisted the urge to punch his wall again, the previous dents he had made he manages to hide behind band posters. He could hear his dad still downstairs and he clenched his fist and hit it into his wall again. It didn't hurt now but his adrenaline wanted more, he pulled his hand back to see a new fist shaped dent and hit it again, this time the adrenaline slowed down and he felt throbbing in his hand. The pain felt so good to Ron so he sat on his bed focusing on it, watching his knuckle turn blue. But the pain slowly faded away and he needed more. Ron sunk down onto the floor and found a box under his bed and opened it. Inside were his few real treasures. There were his first Quidditch gloves and even a letter from Harry, Ron didn't really understand himself and why he kept a short letter about school from Harry but he liked to read it every now and then, it reminded him he wasn't alone. Then Ron dug through his bits and pulled out a razorblade.

- - - - - -

There was a knock on Ron's door which broke him out of his numb daze from his wall.

"Ronald, dear?" Mrs. Weasley said opening Ron's door and looking in. "Are you coming down for dinner?" She asked and Ron nodded. His mother left him to wash up and come downstairs to dinner. Ron didn't bother trying to tell his mother about what his dad does to him, his dad had already said if he tried to tell on him he'll attack him even more as well as his mother. Ron reluctantly left his room and descended the stairs slowly, he could hear his dad moaning about anything he could. Ron reached the bottom step and his father looked over to him and Ron tried to avoid his menacing gaze and sat down at the table staring down to his plate.



"Alright, Ron?" Mr. Weasley said smirking to Ron. Ron looked up slightly to see his father staring evilly at him.

"Don't ignore your father, Ron." Mrs. Weasley said when Ron just stared at his plate.

"I'm fine…" Ron said bitterly without looking up. Mr. Weasley took another swig of firewhisky and the family pretend not to notice how much he has drank at dinner. Ron spent another dinnertime staring at his plate wishing to disappear whilst his father was staring at him; Ron gathered probably thinking up new ways to hurt him. To Ron's relief everyone finally finished dinner and he could go back his room. When Ron got up to leave he noticed his father staring at him and he caught his eye for a second and Mr. Weasley winked at Ron to let him know he'll see him later. Ron turned away quickly and went upstairs slamming his bedroom door but by accident, he didn't like people knowing when h was upset. Ron slouched onto the floor against his bed, putting his knees up and started to cry.

"I fucking hate him… Why does he have to taunt me like this?" Ron said to himself and the bruises his dad left on him twanged, as if on cue.

Just as Ron was going to get ready to go to bed after spending another night crying to himself his dad came in the room without knocking. Ron didn't look at him as Mr. Weasley closed the door and approached him. Ron braced himself for what he should never have to expect from a father and he was pushed and he fell onto the bed hurting his sore stomach. Ron lay there pathetically giving into his father again as he kept hitting him. The pain in Ron's ribs was so bad he couldn't help but to cry. As Ron lay with his hands covering his eyes his father finally gave up.

"Get up!" Mr. Weasley demanded and pulled Ron harshly to stand him up. "Take it like a man." He said to Ron before staggering out of his room. Ron collapsed onto his bed clutching his sore ribs and sobbed harder into his pillow. He managed to stop himself crying and he slouched onto the floor again, finding his box and razor blade. He needed something, anything to take his mind off his father. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal his arm with fresh cuts along and he dug the blade into his skin. As soon as she saw the blood seep from the cut he felt release. He breathed out and dropped the razor and watched the blood drip down his arm a little before putting tissue to the wound.

Ron sat there in too much pain to physically move, looking down at his cuts.

'I'm worthless… I deserve it' Ron's thoughts made him cry even more and he finally pulled himself back onto his bed and cried himself to sleep once again.