They Don't Care, But I Do. | A Dadvid Story |

9

TW: CHILD ABUSE, MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL OR BEER AND BLOOD. IF ANY TOPICS THAT MAY DISTURB YOU, I SUGGEST YOU SKIP THROUGH OR CLICK OFF.

Max woke up, breathing heavily. He wasn't surprised, but that didn't mean he wasn't pissed off.

His face was comforted with rage. He just wanted to have a good night sleep, but that wasn't really working out.

"Fucking god, not again!" he groaned quietly, not trying to wake anybody up. He slapped himself in the face to try wake himself up.

But his expression changed into a misery feeling when he remembered that today was the last day of camp.

So there Max was, laying down, misery wroten all over his face. He wanted wanted sleep, but didn't want to be awoken from a nightmare. Hell, he didn't want to wake up until he had too.

But, he was really tired. He was practically fighting fighting the awake. And so, he sighed and decided to try to fall asleep again.

Max felt completely drained. Like someone had sucked the life out of him. I mean, he always felt like that. But this was ten times worse then a previous feeling. His head ached from a lack of sleep, his stomach growled from a lack of food, and he felt like shit from a lack of being happy.

He was laying down on his back, his eyes closed. He yawned before he   drifted off.

Four year Max ran through the kitchen, sprinting away from his father. He had a hostile glare on his face, and a knife that was held in his hand.

His mother wasn't home, which was a relief to him. But nothing could distract him from the fact that his own father was chasing him with a knife he had grabbed from the kitchen.

"PLEASE DADDY! IM SORRY! I DONT WANT TO GET HURT AGAIN!" he called out, still running away from the middle aged man.

The man grumbled, " I don't fucking care, Maxwell! Now, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE! ITS TIME TO TEACH YOU A LESSON OF NEVER TOUCHING ME!AND THAT IS MISTER TO YOU, YOUNG MAN." he said, starting to chase him faster.

They arrived into his room, which was really messy. Both of his parents hated that.

Eventually, the small curly haired boy fell to the floor, tripping on a hairbrush. whi made Max's father catch up to him.

He lifted the boy up by his hoodie, holding him by his neck when he was up. He grabbed the knife and put the silver point directly on his neck. He grinned as he saw Max crying in pain from the fall, but also scared for his life.

He got a bit irritated at it by one point that he put the knife down, and started to choke Max.

Max was going to scream and beg, but he couldn't. His father was holding his neck too tight. Instead, he was fighting to breathe.

Maxs father had a smile plastered on his face from the sight of seeing his son choke. But eventually, he had had stop. He didn't want to kill him, get arrested, and never be able to hurt him again. So, he dropped him onto the ground, leaving Max to gasp for air.

"Waste of oxygen." He scoffed, walking away, leaving max on the floor.

Max woke up with a gasp, wiping thr sweat off of his forehead. He looked to the side to see that Neil wasn't there, so he assumed it was some time in the morning.

That thought made him sweat even more, nervous about the day.

"Fuck. My. Life."