Disclaimer: I do not own Demyx nor any of the Kingdom Hearts or Christianity.
A/N: Sorry it took so long to update this, I've had school and the holidays. It's looking like this story will be maybe 7 chapters long. When I get to that point, I'll leave up to everyone here if it should be continued or if it should just flow into one of the other stories I'm writing. It will either go into one or will continue alongside it. Either way, this is happening around the same time or a little before the upcoming third chapter of Every Story Has a Beginning, a Middle, and an end. It seems like it would start between the first and second chapters. Thanks again for all the love and support this story is receiving. I love all my readers! Also, on a side note, any language used in this chapter was not in mind when writing this so the number of random symbols had no meaning. You can ignore them or put in your own words if you want.
Chapter 3
Over the next few months, Myde had progressed further and further off the path he had been on before the death off his mother. He had lied, cheated, stolen, and been high almost every day. He had ended up in jail twice only to have his father bail him out. His father, however, thought it was only a phase, until one day Myde came home with a gun. He banged down the door, shotgun in hand, pointing it straight at his father.
His dad was prepared for this, he already had a gun by his side as well. As both family members pointed weapons at each other, Mr. Yrio was trembling. The thought of even using the gun repulsed him and seemed barbaric. What had happened to his son to make him become this way. This had to end. He started slowly walking over towards the young teenager. "Myde, put down the gun."
Myde smirked up at him, bloodlust filling his eyes. He laughed, the sound of it spine chilling, almost inhuman. "Why don't you make me you, &^&%^%*(&()^$." And with that, Mr. Yrio was behind his son and had pushed a pressure point to knock out his son. Myde fell limp, like a rag doll, as his father carried him upstairs. He would give him one more chance to repent before taking drastic measures. But that would be all he would get, one last chance.
The next morning, Myde awoke in his own bed. His head was pounding as he sat up. He felt the urge to go out, get a couple of drinks and go do some more cocaine so he headed towards the door. He was stopped by the sound of a someone clearing their voice over from the chair at his desk. He turned around and saw his father sitting there, arms crossed.
Boy, did he look angry. "Hey, dad, what's going on?" He had no memory of the night before, none at all. "Son, last night you tried to shoot me with a gun. Now, I know you've been doing drugs and a lot of other things but this needs to stop. So, I'm giving you one more chance to repent. Turn yourself over to the Father and life will get better, you'll see. You can go to rehab and we can be a family again." And that was the moment that Myde lost it.
"What the $%^%#!? God did nothing to save mom, nothing! And now you expect that he can just make me better!? He's just a # # #$%^&%#! He doesn't care about anyone even if He did exist in the first place! And we were never a family, you never cared about me! I won't go to rehab, not for your sake." His eyes had lost all innocence and it seemed the Myde he once knew wasn't there anymore.
"Fine, then you will not live under my roof anymore. You have ten minutes to fill this bag," he gestured to the duffel bag sitting on the bed with anything in this room, "then you will leave and never return. Do I make myself clear?" Myde rolled his eyes, his voice lowering angrily, "Crystal." And with that, Mr. Yrio left the room.
Myde began to pack, he was out of money, so that wasn't an option. So, he grabbed the essentials, a couple shirts and pairs of pants, lots of socks and underwear, his sheet music, a toothbrush and toothpaste and a bottle of water. He then grabbed his sitar and climbed out the window. When his father returned and saw that his son had truly left. He broke down. He fell to his knees and cried, his body shaking with sobs.
A/N: The length of this chapter is thanks to one of my readers who told me they wanted it be longer and more detailed. I hope this did achieve those requirements. Poor Myde, I picture his father really did care about him but pastors sometimes have to work more then they spend time with their families. He's just does not understand Myde's feelings about how a family really should be and how hurt he was by his mother's death. He isn't a bad man, just confused.