Michael afton x Fem!reader

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 17❀

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notes:
• This chapter will be in Michaels POV!
• I just thought it would be interesting and fun to do this :) hope you enjoy!
• TW: this chapter contains abuse and injury.
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I arrived home after dropping off y/n and luckily enough my dad wasn't here yet, but I'm dreading when he will be here.

I ran upstairs to my room and slammed the door shut. I was hoping that my little brother didn't come running in like he always does- it pisses me off a lot. I debate whether I should push him off the stairs or not at times.

I knew that y/n would be worried sick, but I don't know how to tell her that I'm okay. Plus, I don't want her worrying over someone like me- I'm not worthy of being cared for that much at all. If anything she should be glad like every other person would be.

I threw my bag and blazer down onto the floor where they would usually be and I sat down on my bed. All of a sudden, I heard the front door fly open and slam shut shortly after. I immediately knew who it was- it was my dad.

I really couldn't stand him. Just knowing he's at home gets on my nerves honestly. I wish y/n was here, or I was with her instead. Anywhere but here would be great.

I was debating whether to go downstairs or pretend like I'm still not home, but I knew that I had to face him sooner or later. I really didn't want to though.

I went further back onto my bed and leaned against the wall patiently waiting to speak to my dad. At least I'm not scared of him as much as I used to be since now I can predict what will happen. He thinks I'm an idiot, he thinks I'm stupid and clueless and he thinks I'm just a failure, and I doubt he even wants to see me as his son.

"Michael", he shouted, "downstairs, please."
He was so harsh yet so calm about it, and I didn't like that about him at all.

I shuffled forward and stood up off my bed. I made my way out of my room and hesitantly stepped downstairs. I walked forward into the kitchen where my dad was sitting with a cup of coffee and a pissed facial expression.

"What?" I asked harshly.

"Take a seat, Michael," he replied, "I just want a little chat."

"You always want a little chat..." I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" he questioned.

"Nothing, dad" I replied as I sat down on the chair opposite him.

"Good," he asserted, "now, Michael, what did you beat up Jeremy for?"

"We discussed this in the headteacher's office, no?" I asked harshly slouching on my chair.

"Yes, but I'd like you to tell me exactly what was said," he instructed, "you know, Michael, about what Jeremy said about you being similar to me."
His tone was way quieter and his eyebrows became more furrowed.

"Why do you want to know? Jeremy said everything in the hour that we were there. Was that hour not enough for you?" I hissed.

"Am I speaking to you in that tone? No. So why are you speaking to me in that tone, Michael?" he asked remaining calm. Somehow.

"Well, I'm not arsed what tone you speak to me in, dad" I mocked him.

"Watch your manner, kid, you're speaking to your father and not one of your friends" he hissed back.

"You're being a hypocrite by calling me kid but alright mate, whatever you say!" I chuckled. I knew he loved being right all the time so I liked proving him wrong and taking the piss out of him.

"Michael," he slammed his fist on the table, "stop with that attitude and just talk to me. Why are you always like this? You wonder why I'm ashamed to call you my son."

"I don't give a fuck about what you think, dad, you're a fucking dickhead anyway. It's not like you ever liked me anyway" I barked back at him.

My dad stood up off the chair and made his way over to me. He towered above me with his brows furrowed more than before; he looked slightly more intimidating. Maybe I'm not completely not scared of him.

All of a sudden, he swung his arm and smacked me across the face.

"Get out of my sight and don't appear again, Michael, I don't want to see you at all," he yelled, "you're not worthy of being called my son if you can't stand being compared to me."

How did he know?

I remained sitting on the chair with wide eyes staring at the ground in front of me. I knew he hated me, but I never knew he would shout it in my face.
I felt a cold hand squeeze my arm tightly- it was him again. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me off the chair making me stand.

"I can only assume that you were ashamed to be compared to me by Jeremy, and with what I've heard today I think I am correct. Is that right, Michael?" he asked as his grip tightened around my arm. It did hurt as much he intended it to, but I wouldn't let myself flinch or look affected by it.

No words would come out of my mouth.

"Why is it that you dislike being compared to me? I'm your father, am I not?" he asked with a sadistic grin. How can a man enjoy doing this to his child? He needs to be fucking locked up, but if I do speak up I might die. Maybe. But I'm not taking risks- he's already violent enough with me.

He finally got bored and tossed me as if I was a piece of rubbish but I managed to catch myself. I turned around and walked off without a word. I rushed back into my room and slammed the door shut not giving a shit anymore.

I got on my bed and sat with my back against the wall, my arm still throbbing with pain. I placed my opposite hand on my throbbing arm and I could feel my blood pulsing, and it was very warm. There would definitely be a bruise or two.

My door creaked open. Who do I see standing in my doorway? It was my little brother Evan.

"What do you want worm?" I hissed.

"I heard you and daddy shouting," he answered, "and then I heard a-"

"It's none of your business," I cut him off, "now go away or I'll make you go away"

"But your face is red and your arm looks h-" he just had to notice didn't he?

"I just fell over at school, now piss off or I'll make you" I hissed as I reached under my bed. He was terrified of this stupid mask of a fox that my dad made and I really don't understand why.

"no please I'll go now, Mike, don't get that thing out..." he cried like a little baby. Well, he is one but still. He ran out of my room and closed the door behind him like a little fucking wimp. I'd say I'm not surprised as to why my dad hates him, but I'm not in much place to talk.

I leaned back against the wall again and I took a few minutes to zone out and just think about whatever came to mind. His words echoed in my head, but the thing is that he didn't even say much bad about me; it's more just his voice in general that's unbearable.

I took a few minutes to calm down and let those thoughts pass. I just wish I was somewhere else. As long as it would get me away from this shitty household and my dickhead dad I don't even care, and for all I care it could be under a bridge. It would still be better than being around him.

Or to put it simply, I wish I was with y/n. I feel so appreciated and wanted around her, I feel genuinely cared for and I feel happy when I'm around her. I wish I could let her know I'm alright. I wish we could've hung around for longer after school. But I'll see her tomorrow again, or the day after... Who knows...?

As much as I hate to admit it, I do enjoy her company a lot and I do miss her. I miss her a lot.