A Gut Feeling (Rantaro x Reader)

An old Memory (12)

          "Hey. HEY!" I was being shaken awake. "What? What is it?" I grunted, sitting up in my tiny bed.  I looked over to see my youngest brother sitting at the edge of my bed. "It's time for dinner." he smiled. "C'mon, don't fall back asleep. Dad said he'll bring up a cup of ice water and pour it on you." "UGH fine." I said crawling out of my bed and stepping through my messy room. Clothes scattered all over the floor, a box fan sitting on my nightstand, my homework sitting on my old wooden desk. My floor was a dark dirty grey carpet. There were cracks scattered on the walls. The room was basically falling apart. As I opened my old door with white paint chipping off, my door handle ripped off. "Shit." I whispered. "Y/N!" I heard from downstairs. "Y/N GET DOWN HERE NOW! TELL YOUR BROTHERS THE SAME!" My little brother was already leaping down the stairs. I walked down the creaking hall and knocked on my brother's door. "What." an irritated voice growled. "Dad's calling us." I heard the creak of a few floorboards approaching the door. My older brother walked past me, not even glimpsing down at me. He slowly walked down the hall and finally down the stairs. I followed him. As I made it down the stairs I heard the blabbering of a drunken man. I heard that every night. Blabbering turns to yelling, and yelling turns to arguing. "Hey, there's my loving child." my father smiled while swaying. He was sitting at the dinner table with my mother, older brother, and younger brother. My father gestured for me to walk over to him. "You better not of been sleeping up there." he squeezed my arm. "You know how I hate that right?" he said grabbing my shoulder and forcing me to sit at the empty seat next to him. "I wasn't." I said, picking at my food. 

      I didn't have a very good relationship with my father. He left my mother after my youngest brother was born. He was in and out of our life. It's always the same. My parents would be fine for a few months, then start arguing again. And it always ended in him leaving. I don't really have a close relationship with my mother either. She worked all my life, till she got her back hurt at work. I was the closest to my older brother. He always took care of me and my little brother. But once he became a teenager, he left us in the dust. He doesn't care about us anymore, he acts like he hates our guts. I don't care the feeling is mutual. My younger brother always goes to his friend's house whenever he had the chance. I wouldn't blame him though. 

    They all were talking as we ate. I just spaced out, blocking out their conversations. It was important anyways. "Did you hear me?" my father snapped me out of it. "What did you say?" I asked. "Do the dishes after dinner and your brothers will clean up the living room." I looked to the pile of dishes in our small broken sink. I nodded slowly. "Were you giving me attitude? You can clean the whole kitchen then. Wanna breathe heavily at me again." he proclaimed. I got up and made my way to the kitchen and started to clean. Once the kids started to clean my parents went upstairs into their room. I sighed hearing the sounds of them yelling echo throughout the small, messy house. "I'm glad I'm 17, so I don't have to listen to this anymore." my older brother rolled his eyes. "Can't say the same for the 15-year-old in the kitchen though, or the 13-year-old." He cackled. I ignored him as I finished cleaning the dishes. Then making my way up to my room. Hearing the sounds of bottles crashing and glass breaking. I crawled back into bed and just laid there. I pulled my old hand-me-down blanket over my entire body and curled up. Their voices seemed to last for hours until I heard the sound, a sound I haven't heard before. It was a loud bang, like the sound of something exploding. It made me jump. I heard the sound of my door handle rattle. The door swung open. I heard a heavy figure walk over to my bedside. My heart was pounding. There was a feeling of two arms wrapping around me. "Are you ok?" I heard my father say. "Yeah, why?" He didn't say a word and just left. Confused I shrugged it off but a bad feeling invaded my body. It was aching. My body became very sore. 

     That morning when I woke up, I walked downstairs to the living room. I was looking for the TV remote until I stepped in something small and hard. I looked at it closely then picked it up. It was kinda heavy. It was also covered in this strange powder. I looked up to see a hole in the ceiling. The same size as the object. I threw it back down once I realized it was a bullet. I ran up the stair and ran it to my parent's room. My father was sitting next to my weeping mother. Their room was littered with booze bottles. It stunk. "Come over here." My father motioned. I slowly walked over, seeing the small pistol sitting on his nightstand. He wrapped his arms around me. He stunk of liquor. "I'm going to stop, I promise. I'm going to quit drinking. Every time I do some stupid shit happens." he held his head low. My mother looking over at him, holding his hand. "I don't even know my kids. I don't even remember your guy's birthdays." he wept. "I've been a terrible father. I know, but I'm going to try and make it up to you and your brothers. Just please let me." I stood there shocked. Did he really just say what I thought he said. I smile slowly grew across my face. "Ok." I whispered. "I promise we'll hang out more once you graduate from that school. What was it called again?" My father hummed. "It's called Hopes Peak dad." 

     We were going to work things out. He was going to actually be a father. He wanted to be involved in my life. That's why. That's why I have to leave this place. I have to give him that chance. Tears began to run down my face as I hugged my raven-colored pillow. Why did this have to happen to me? I looked over at the nightstand that read 1 am. I plopped my head back down on my pillow. I couldn't hold in my emotions anymore. I didn't want to. I just let it all out. Once I get out of here... Everything will be fine. It's going to be fine. I can't die here. I won't die here.