~Jeremike~

Chapter 6

Jeremy's P.O.V

(Warning- May trigger)

While I was walking back home, I was thinking about how Mike and I were about to to kiss. Was he going to kiss me or was he just going to trick me? No he doesn't like me, right? No one ever liked me. I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking. I ended up twisting my ankle, a crack was heard as I fell on the ground. 'Ouch.'

"You need help there kid?" Someone asked me. Startled I looked up and saw a guy that looked familiar.

"Y-yes please." I said shyly. He held out a hand for me to take, of course me being me I blushed. He pulled me up. "T-thanks."

"No problem kido, hey do you need help getting home or anything. Oh and my name is Vincent. Vincent.. that rings a bell but I still don't know how he is familiar.

"U-uh sure, my n-name is Jeremy." I stutter. He grabs me and carries bridal style to my house."H-how do you k-know were I l-live?" I ask curiously. His eyes widened.

"U-uh... Wild guess." He puts me down in front of my house and storms off. Uh that was weird. I limp to the door, getting the house key out I opened the door, and it smelled terrible inside almost like alcohol. Oh no, no, no. Why he said he wouldn't do that again. I think and start to panic. I want to run away but my ankle was hurting bad. I limp into my house and see of course a drunk father on the couch. He shifts around and looks at me.

"J-Jeremy, I was *hic* wrong..." He said in his deep voice that boomed across the house.

"W-what?" I ask confused. He gets up and goes towards my direction.

"I was going *hic* to tell you, but she left me. I was dating this *hic* girl that I saw at the bar." My dad walked back to the coffee table and got another beer. I was quickly limping up stairs to my room hoping to get away. I felt something grab my shirt and pulled me.

"Were are you *hic* going boy?" He asks. I was about to answer but he hit my head with his now empty beer bottle. The bad thing was that it was glass so it broke on my head. I then get kicked on my bad ankle, when he did that I heard a loud crack and I screamed. I fell down the stairs, I was crying as I was holding and to my now broken ankle.

"D-d- I m-mean sir p-please stop." I begged. When he was drunk I had to call him sir or not I would get a good smack.

"See what you've done you worthless piece of trash, everything you touch you ruin. NOW YOU'RE GOING TO PAY THE PRICE!" He yells. I stayed there on the floor sobbing. He kicks my side and I whimper, he kicks my chest multiple times, and the last blow he punches me on my face. "NOW GO! GET OUT IF MY SIGHT YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" He yells. I struggle to get up because of my broken ankle. I jump my right foot up stairs, I enter my room and look around. Same messy room. I jump on my good leg to some crutches, I had these since the last time I broke my ankle. I grab the crutches and use them to get to the bathroom. I enter the bathroom and see my old razor blade by the sink. I decide not to cut, I grab some bandages that were under my sink. I pull up my left pant leg and look at my ankle. It was purple, swollen and green, I start to wrap the bandage around my ankle. I flinch a little at the pain, when I'm done I put the bandage away and get my crutches. I use my crutches to get to my bed, I lay down and close my eyes drift off to sleep.

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Thank you for reading my story. I know it's not the best, but I'm trying.