Hate Is An Evil Type Of Love

8. Dissapear

I sigh, opening the front door quietly with the key my 'parents' gave me.
"Where the hell have you been?!?" Brady, my 'dad', yells from his favorite chair in the living room.
He swiftly jumps out of the chair, grabbing my shirt into his fist and pushing me against the now closed door.

"I-I was just with a f-friend." I answer, trying to play it off and calm him down a bit. It doesn't work.
He lifts his arm up and back, punching me right in between my nose and left eye.
I wince and bring my hands up to my face, trying to block any more blows to the face, but that only makes him angrier.

He lands hit after hit all over my abdomen and chest, his knuckles popping on impact. "DON'T-FUCKING-LIE-TO-ME!" He yells in between hits.
I'm struggling desperately to get away from his grip, but with every punch he throws, I lose a lot of energy trying to block and protect myself. Finally, he lets go of my shirt, letting me fall weakly to the floor with a grunt.

I cough, a bit of blood dripping from my mouth, and try to take some deep breaths before he decides I haven't had enough.
Too late.
He brings his foot back, and forward, kicking me in the chest as hard as he can. He's still wearing is work boots, the steel making every bone in my body feel like a twig.
I lay there, struggling to breath as I continue to cover my face with my arms and hands.

"GET UP YOU LAZY FUCK!" He screams when he's done kicking me.
I slowly pull myself up, breathing lightly because it feels like my ribs are floating around my stomach somewhere.
Brady shoves me towards the bedrooms, and I start trudging to my room. But he shoves me harder, towards his room.
'No,' I think, 'no no no no no no!'

"My room you fucking faggot!" He screams, pushing me harder. I'm praying he's not planning on doing what I he's going to do to me.
'No,' I tell myself, 'he's never gone this far. It doesn't matter how bad I fuck up, he'd never go this far.' I'm gently clutching my ribs, still finding it difficult to breathe.

Rough hands push me onto the bed, yelling, "Since you're such a slut, you'll probably like this, won't you fag?" He spits on my face as he cuffs my hands to the bed, but I'm unable to resist, too weak and hurt to do anything.
"N-no, stop!" I start to yell, but he smacks me hard on my face.
"SHUT UP!" He screams, making me jump.

I'm shaking so hard, I could barely hold my hands still, even if they weren't restrained.
He's ripping my clothes off me in a matter of seconds, and I can't hold in the whimpers and sobs that desperately try to claw their ways out of my throat.
"Shut up!" He snaps, unbuckling his belt and smacking me hard on the back. I recoil, trying to move away from him, even though I know it's not going to work.

The asshole is taking his pants off, stripping to nothing but a shirt.
He forces me face down on the bed as I struggle under his grip.
He hold me down, one hand on my back, the other on the back of my thigh.
I want to scream, I want to yell, I want to fight, but I'm in so much pain, and I know yelling is only going to hurt more.

Brady Wilson, the man who is legally considered my 'legal guardian' is shoving his dick into my ass, making me grimace in pain.
I can hear angry breaths, breaths of pleasure as he thrusts deeper and deeper into me.
I'm screaming because of the pain, but he's not paying attention to that anymore.
There must be blood everywhere by now as I feel my body being brutally violated, assaulted.

I want nothing more than to die, I'm begging him to stop.
To kill me, instead. I can feel the nasty fuck's cum spilling all inside my body, causing more pain as it mixes with the inflamed skin.
I feel like I'm burning from the inside out as he pulls out, finally.
I'm still sobbing, still begging, but he doesn't hear as he puts his clothes back on and leaves the room.

But he's back seconds later, holding a broom. He holds it upright, so the handle is pointing at me, and I know what he's planning on doing. "NO! NO PLEASE DON'T!" I scream out as he starts stuffing the broom handle inside of me, making me forget about all the other pain.
I'm screaming on the top of my lungs, everything inside of me is screaming at him to stop.

There's so much sweat and tears and blood soaked into the mattress already.
He shoves it in a couple more inches, and leaves it there.
He laughs a cruel, evil laugh when I breath a bit better.
The movement stops, making the pain a bit more bearable.
"You're gonna SIT here, and THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" He yells right into my ear and storms off, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

The adrenaline is wearing off at this point, and I can feel myself fighting off the unconsciousness as I try to make sense of what just happened to me.
It feels unreal, almost like I'm having a really, really bad dream.
I feel dizzy, and disoriented, as the unconsciousness threatens to take me away. Still shivering, I fight off the darkness, knowing I can't afford to fall asleep now.

If I do, I don't know if I'll ever wake up. My body wins in the end though, unconsciousness overtaking my body and mind to places I don't want to visit.