𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕤, 𝕄𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤.

Routine

(This is a bunch of my stitched together memories from when I was a kid, skip it if you want. Content warnings for this chapter: child abuse, yelling, alcoholism mentions, violence, mentions of parents arguing)

6:30 AM; Wake up.

Mark woke up at 6:30 AM like he always did. He'd had another nightmare but at this point, it was nothing compared to what the day had for him. It had been about 8 years since that night so the fear had worn off quite a bit. He sighed and rolled out of bed, landing on the floor hard. "Ugh..ow. Mmn fuck I gotta actually try today." He pushed himself up off of the ground grabbing the outfit he'd set out the night prior and heading to the bathroom

6:45; Get Dressed.

Mark threw his clothes on, not bothering to shower and only taking a few minutes to wrestle with his tangled hair. Then his hand slipped and he cut it on his father's razor. He winced, stumbling back from it, the sudden sting catching him off guard. He could already tell he was about to cry. "Ffffuck ow. Okay okay deep breath don't cry. Dad's gonna hear and then-" he pressed himself to the wall, thinking about all the beatings and yelling he got for being immature and childish. He was going to be starting highschool after summer break, he needed to grow up.

Mark let out a few sobs as he worked on cleaning up the wound. Unfortunately the timing of those sobs was...less than perfect. Soon enough his father was pounding on the door yelling at him to open it. Mark hadn't stopped crying in time.

7:00; not again..

Mark scooted against a wall, eyes clouded with pain and panic. He was lucky to only have gotten hit a few times and then thrown onto the ground. Normally his father's punishments were much. Much. Harsher. For once, there was a bit of an excuse. A vaguely reasonable one in his father's eyes, so punishment was lesser. His dad left the room, slamming the door. Mark stood, bracing himself against a wall. "Welcome to the Heathcliff household. Where you grow up fast and stop crying faster...unless you want someone to make you." He murmured to himself, walking back to the bathroom to patch himself up.

7:30; Breakfast

Not much to say, really. Mark, for the most part, ate on a normal schedule.  Except on days when mom wasn't home...or when dad was upset..or when dad had just beaten him within an inch of his life..okay maybe he didn't eat all that much. Today though, he did. Some toast and a cup of water. That had to count for something, right?

8:00-12:00; Head out, do things.

Mark grabbed his bag and headed out for the day. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck at home with is alchoholic of a dad all day. Mark hopped onto his beaten up bike and headed out, going to a nearby public park. He'd probably just stay there all day, avoiding people like he usually did. He pulled his hoodie sleeve down over his bruised arm, pulling his hood up to hopefully hide anything else. He set his bike against a tree and sat down, pulling out a few books and a notepad with a pencil through the spiral of it. This is where he'd be all day, may as well do something.

12:00; lunch

For once Mark had brought some money with him, so he stood, packed his things, and biked off to a small corner store. He bought one or two of those pre-packaged sandwiches and a bottle of juice, paying for them before biking back to his spot at the park to read while he ate. The corner store sandwiches weren't half bad, really. Just a bit..stale and dry. He shrugged it off though. He didn't eat much anyways so what did it matter?

12:30-5:00; explore

This was the same thing he did every day he wasn't in school, he'd go further back into the large park to see what he could find. Oftentimes he'd come back with bottlecaps and coins or, on rare occasion, something of actual value that he'd later pawn off to an unsuspecting child somewhere around town. This time, he found a couple of coins, some shiny rocks, and a sense of being stared at. The same feeling he fucking hated. The one that made him feel like he was in danger. A chill went down Mark's spine as he backed away, one hand on his bike handle. He turned and left the second he heard something.

5:15; come home

Mark parked his bike around the back of the house. Darting in through the back door to avoid being spotted as he ran upstairs, past the sounds of his parents screaming, and to his room. He shut his door and flopped onto his bed. He didn't bother going downstairs to eat dinner. He knew they'd be fighting all night, so why catch himself up in the middle of it?

5:15-9; home life

He didn't usually have much to do other than watch a few of his VHS tapes, he had his own TV now so he could drown out the sounds of the arguing downstairs. He flinched when he heard glass breaking coupled with a loud thud. Mark stood up and locked his door, thankful that it couldn't unlock from the other side, and sat back on his bed. Trying to drown it all out.

9:00; Sleep

This was around the time Mark could typically fall asleep. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, eventually falling into restless sleep full of nightmares. Nightmares about the man in the cormer, or his dad's punishments, or all sorts of awful things that shouldn't be gone into detail about. Several times during the night he'd wake, looking around to assure himself that nobody was there. When his anxieties were calmed he'd fall back asleep, clutching at the one stuffed animal his father had let him keep.

And he did it all again, day after day. The only thing that changed it was school starting up. Skip ahead a few years, though, and this little routine of his would change forever.