Hey, so here is the next chapter. And it's LONG! PLEASE REVIEW!
WARNING: It's rather graphic.
xXxMitchi
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters (Disney does) and I don't own the song (Skillet does). I only own this story and what happens.
Normal Text = What's currently happening in the story.
Italics = Flashbacks.
Bold = Song Lyrics.
Troy
I opened my eyes again and looked at my leg. The shank was swollen and red. A bluish-black bruise began forming around my ankle, from when my dad stood on it earlier.Slowly, I regained my breath and the door opened suddenly. My dad stepped in the room, angry. What did I do wrong now?
"When will you finally understand that it's your responsibility in this house to make breakfast, lunch and dinner?!" He took me and threw me on the floor, and began stomping on my chest. "I – I – I…" I tried to talk, but I felt like fainting; not because of the lack of oxygen and food, but because I wanted to escape this horrible place. My dad left and slammed the door shut, expecting me to come down and make dinner.
I stood up and regained my balance. At my first step, my leg gave in. I was lucky I didn't fall down. Slowly, I walked down the stairs. After a few minutes, I reached the kitchen and started cooking some chicken with rice. The entire time, I was standing on my healthy leg. I put two plates of dinner on the table in front of my dad and stepmother. I sat down and watched as they began eating. For some reason, I didn't feel hungry. I must've gotten used to the feeling of emptiness.
"Finally, you get how things work in this house!" my dad smirked at me.
"Exactly," my stepmom nodded and smirked at me as well.
I knew what those smiles were saying – they wanted some fun…that meant making my life hell. They weren't like normal people; they didn't lock themselves in their room and throw themselves on their bed, doing whatever they wanted. After they both finished dinner, they didn't give me the chance to lock myself in my room. I managed to wash the dishes and moments later, my dad pressed me against the wall while my stepmom kicked my legs and punched my stomach.I heard her shout at me, telling me how stupid and useless I was, because my dad told her it would hurt even more. He was laughing. Tears formed in my eyes as the pain shot through me, but I didn't dare let them fall. It would only encourage them. When my stepmom rammed her leg in my lower stomach and groin area however, a tear fell on my dad's hand and a soft cry escaped my lips before I could suppress it.
"See what we've got there – a tear!" He laughed and pressed me harder against the wall. "You're weak boy! Weak! WEAK!" My stepmom continued ramming her knee into me as more tears fell after what seemed like hours, my dad picked me up and practically threw me in my room, and didn't bother to acknowledge the loud thud that occurred when my head hit the floor really hard.
"Just so you know, your dad and I are spending some days in a spa. Don't bother to touch the food or tell your school that your father isn't ill. Do we understand?" They both grinned at me as I sat up. Then, my dad put his hand in his pocket and took something out. He threw it on the floor and mumbled, "that's from that weird girl, I took it from her in school. Sharp objects aren't allowed." He looked at me once more, glaring at me, wishing that I would magically disappear and wouldn't be there when they come home again. They both left, slamming the door shut.
I looked around my room and didn't see what my dad had "forgotten" in my room. I sat on my bed and turning the music on.
In the dark with the music on
Wishing I was somewhere else
Taking all your anger out on me
Somebody help
No One
Troy laid there, listening to the song that described his life. "Why do I have to stay? Why can't I just leave?" he whispered to himself as he slowly sat up and looked out of the window. "Why do I have to stay here with them?" He stood up, struggling, and limped toward his bathroom.
I would rather rot alone
Than spend a minute with you
I'm gone, I'm gone
Troy stepped on the scale slowly and looked at his weight. He lost a lot of weight in the past two years.
He stepped off the scale and took his shirt off. His upper body was bruised, cut and scarred. His ribs were showing more than ever. Back when Troy's world was perfect, his ribs weren't visible. He could see every single one, and one or two were broken; his stepmom had done that. The skin was black where his ribs were broken.
He turned and looked at his left side, and felt his eyes falling on his back. He fully turned around and saw his spine; it was just as visible as his ribs.
"Obviously it's not enough. Otherwise he wouldn't tell me not to eat."
And you can't stop me from falling apart
'Cause my self-destruction is all your fault
Troy looked at himself in the mirror. He looked horrible. Black shades laid heavily under his eyes and those once bright blue sparkling orbs were now a lifeless and sad grey.
Ever since he was a little boy, he looked up to his father. The successful basketball player, the perfect husband, the loving daddy…
His dad stood outside the house shooting some baskets. Troy was standing inside, watching his dad.He was four and a half back then.When his dad saw him, he stopped and called Troy to him.Slowly, the little boy walked to his father.
"Here!" His dad threw him the ball and Troy caught it, looking at the basket.
His dad walked over to him and lifted the boy onto his shoulders.
"Now shoot." The boy concentrated and threw the ball. It went in.
Troy remembered the first time he shot a basket as if it was yesterday. But since then his dad changed, mostly because of her! His attitude towards his son changed dramatically because of his stepmom.
Troy was practicing in the backyard. Suddenly his dad turned up, looking angry. He just came home from court. His girlfriend was already there, unpacking her stuff. Troy was deep in thought about what his stepmom said to him a few hours ago, and missed the next free throw.
"WHAT THE HELL!" His dad began shouting at him. They both began to argue – it was only one missed shot. "NO! Don't you talk back!" His dad slapped him. "I hate talking back. I hate you! You're weak!"
How could you, how could you?
How could you hate me?
When all I ever wanted to be was you?
At this memory, tears started to well up in the boy's eyes. He closed his eyes to let them disappear. He sniffed and one tear made its way down his face. He roughly brushed it away. "I'm not weak. I'll show you I can cope, even though you hate me," he whispered.
Troy laid in his room while his dad kicked his stomach – the new daily routine. Finally his dad stopped and bent down to Troy's head. "You know why I do that, don't you?"
"Because you hate me." He hadn't forgotten what his father said a few days ago.
An evil laugh filled Troy's ears. "NO!" The boy flinched as his dad shouted at him. "Out of love! Like I said the first evening! Don't you remember?!" He was right, he said that he did all those things out of love…
How could you, how could you?
How could you love me?
When all you ever gave me were open wounds?
Open wounds
Troy limped back to his room and sank down on the ground, leaning against his bed. From downstairs, the sound of the TV and his dad's snoring met his eardrums. His dad always wanted him to become a basketball player. Troy had to work hard, harder than his body was capable.
"I'll make it! I'll work harder…I'll have to lose weight. But why should he care? He didn't and look at me now. My bones are showing everywhere…why should it matter?" His dad's snoring brought him back out of his thoughts. Slowly the snoring grew louder and drowned out the sound of the running TV.
Downstairs the enemy sleeps
Leaving the TV on
Watching all the dreams we had
Turn into static
"I'll work harder. I'll try to get it done. I'll do my best."
He wasn't weak, he'd show his dad and the entire world that he could cope, that he didn't need to eat frequently; he could cope without food for two weeks. But deep down inside, Troy knew that his dad would always find something that wasn't good enough. His dad would always find a reason to punish him, a reason to beat and hurt him, a reason to give his body and soul the feeling of never being good enough.
Doesn't matter what I do
Nothing's gonna change
I'm never good enough
Troy could feel himself break. The lack of food was slowly getting to him, but he wouldn't eat. He wouldn't give his dad a reason to be mad at him, and maybe even extend the punishment. He wouldn't give in.
And you can't stop me from falling apart
'Cause my self-destruction is all your fault
He'd show his dad that he didn't need the food, that he didn't care that he'd lose weight. He'd show his dad and his stepmom, Mrs. Bolton. At first she seemed nice, and Troy had quite liked her, even though she couldn't replace his real mom. After she moved in, however, she showed what she really thought of him. It was a clear message.
Troy just got home from school and his dad was at a teacher's meeting. His stepmom was at home, unpacking her stuff. She moved in that day. "Hey…"
"Oh, hello Troy. Before I forget, you dad and I have been talking about you the past weeks. About me moving in…" Troy looked at her and she smiled. It was a weird smile.
"I don't really like you here, destroying our plans. You got it?" She had a serious, mad look on her face. Troy didn't understand. His fourteen – year – old mind was thinking but didn't make any sense. Then his stepmom pushed him aside and left him with his thoughts about her words, mumbling, "I hate you…why are you even here?"
Troy remembered that day. When his dad came home, he watched him throw the baskets and when he missed one, his dad shouted and told Troy he hated him. Just as his stepmom had… she changed his dad.
How could you, how could you?
How could you hate me?
When all I ever wanted to be was you?
And now she was pregnant; two girls were coming their way. His stepmom loved those girls – they were her angels, and his dad was one too. But there was Troy, making their perfect life imperfect. They loved their two daughters and Troy was the exception.
"You know Troy," his stepmom said. "I love you like my own son." She stopped. "Too bad I don't have one. There's no son to be loved, so I can't love you." She laughed. "Now go make dinner."
How could you, how could you?
How could you love me?
When all you ever gave me were open wounds?
Troy couldn't deny it. He was broken. His body, his soul, his pride, everything… But he wouldn't show he was weak. He would find a way to ease his pain, to get rid of it. Sooner or later… he wouldn't give up.
Tell me why you broke me down
And betrayed my trust in you
I'm not giving up
Giving in
His eyes wandered around his room and landed on a small sliver object, the one his dad had "forgotten". He took it. It was a razor blade. Would it give him a chance to ease the pain? He pressed his index finger against the blade and slowly slid it down, his teeth clenched together. A sharp pain made him break the contact. He looked at the small red line on his index finger and then at the razor.
The previous pain was gone and Troy felt light headed. He felt great.
When will this war end?
When will it end?
Suddenly his mind wandered to Chad, his best friend. He was worried about him. Troy knew that cutting meant danger. Chad would want to help him, if Troy told him what was going on. But he couldn't let him know. It was a secret. Chad became suspicious of him losing weight. He must've noticed in the past two years.
Troy was changing in the locker room and saw Chad looking at his back. Although Troy wore an extra shirt so no one would see the cuts and bruises, Chad looked at his back, worried.Then it hit Troy. His spine began showing more than ever. He quickly changed and left as quickly as possible, leaving a worried Chad back in the locker room.
Chad would want to help Troy, but he didn't want the help, he didn't need it. Troy looked at the line on his finger.
You can't stop me from falling apart
Except for Chad, Gabriella was worried as well. She didn't know him that long, but she knew it.
He opened his eyes and saw Gabriella standing in front of him. "Troy I know what's going on." He looked at her, trying to pretend everything was normal. "What do you mean? Everything's fine…"
Gabriella…was he falling for her? No, he couldn't. He had to focus on basketball. And he had to ease the pain so he could focus.
He looked at the razor in his right hand.
You can't stop me from falling apart
He remembered his old dad, the one who knew what to do, and the one who'd take care of his son's health not the one who'd beat him.
"Work hard for your dream, but never go too far. Don't destroy yourself." Troy nodded at his father's words.
These words were all that Troy held to during the last two years. But now the situation changed.
You can't stop me from falling apart
He thought over the situation again and made a decision. "I'll work hard, even if it destroys me… if I have to go that far to get you on my side I'll do it."
'Cause my self destruction is all your fault
Slowly he brought the razor blade to his left wrist, added pressure and slit it open. The skin broke and the blood started falling down. He didn't feel much pain. "Ouch…" He whispered and looked at his bleeding wrist.
"I hate people who think they have to go too far…"
His dad's words were wise but Troy didn't care. "Then hate me. I don't give anything on that."
How could you, how could you?
How could you hate me?
When all I ever wanted to be was you?
Troy brought the blade to his wrist, slowly sliding it over the flesh, enjoying every moment of the feeling of not caring. He felt light; nothing could keep him on the ground. He looked at the two cuts next to each other. The pain vanished as fast as it had come, leaving the boy looking at his wrist, wanting more of the light feeling sensation. A loud thud from downstairs shook him. His dad must've fallen off the sofa.
"I love you – don't forget!" His fist collided with the boy's jaw.
Troy wanted to escape, ease his mind, his pain. The razor reached his skin again. The boy cut the skin alongside the two previous cuts. The blood bubbled to the surface and spread over Troy's arm. The sensation returned.
And he loved every second of it.
How could you, how could you?
How could you love me?
When all you ever gave me were open wounds?
He was light, light as a feather. Maybe even lighter…No one could stop him. He found a way to ease his pain.A soft moan escaped his throat. The sweet pain was dancing around the three deep cuts.
How could you?!
How could you?!
Suddenly a sharp pain overcame the boy and he dropped the bloody razor on the ground, bringing the free hand to his wrist. The blood was still reaching the surface and soon Troy's hand was covered in a thin layer of his own blood. As the pain eased and finally disappeared, Troy let go of his wrist. He was still bleeding. "Wow…" He reached to pick up the razor again. It was covered in blood. He limped to the bathroom to wash it. Then he hid it between his T-shirts in his closet, to save it from peoples' eyes.
How could you?!
How could you?!
After closing his closet door he changed in his pajamas. As the fabric touched the fresh cuts, the sweet pain returned.
All I ever wanted to be was you!
He smiled. He had found something to ease his pain all by himself. Smiling, he laid down in his bed, taking the sheets, pulling them over his head. Every touch of the soft fabric sent a new wave of pain and sensation trough the boy's body until he fell asleep.
Still smiling…
All you ever gave me were open wounds!
Hey guys. Hope you like it, even though it's a bit….graphic. PLEASE REVIEW!!! 5 reviews to the next chapter!!
xXxMitchi