I will write for any fandom that I have listed in my bio. Most of these will be character x reader. Aside from fictional characters, there will be some Parent!Character(s) x Readers as well. Some won't be x Readers at all, but ships that the read...
(A/N: I've been writing this since father's day, but haven't had the spoons to finish til now... The parts are just, broken, short {like me}, because I didn't really want to dwell on it. I wanted to get it out of my system as quickly as possible.
Warnings - child abuse and violence, self-loathing, and fatphobia. Also mention of sex, no description.
To clarify, I did not actually get hit, but I was threatened, and feared that my abuser would go through with the threats.)
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"Do you want to come with me for Mother's Day?" Gil asked me as we were lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling. We had skipped a night shift, and then worked a morning and afternoon shift to make up for it, so we could sleep through that night and wake up on Mother's Day.
Gil asked me this same question every year, always giving me the option of a way out of spending time with my parents in favour of doing something that would be actually pleasant for me. But, like every year, my response was the same. I put my arm over my eyes and groaned, "Ugh, you know my parents will drag me to be with them."
And I knew he understood. He nuzzled my cheek to comfort me. "I wish you all the best. You can talk to me when you get home okay? You can text or call when you need to. Or even come to my mother's house if you need an early escape." I nodded, taking in all these reminders for my survival. Needing his comfort and reassurance to last on me for the duration of my ordeal, I kissed him and hid myself in him; he happily obliged and encased me in his arms protectively.
We got ready to go and waited for each other to get out the front door at the same time. With one last parting kiss while holding hands, and a reminder from Gil to blast music I loved during my drive, we said our goodbyes and went to our cars. I connected my phone to my car's Bluetooth and put the Linkin Park Complete Playlist on shuffle, starting with Given Up because boy did I have to scream. When I got to my parents' house, I sat in the car and let the last song finish playing. I sighed shakily as I turned off my music, dreading what was to come in the immediate future. But, the quicker I started it, the sooner it would end, so I went to the front door and rang the bell. When my mother opened it, she greeted me with the love she thought she felt for me; I did not even bother to fake a smile. Our embrace was cold, stiff, as every bit as hateful I remembered it to be because I felt the love die out of it a long time ago.
I was not in a good mood and not really watching what I was saying. Nor was I keeping track of what my parents were thinking and feeling because I could not be bothered, so it was a great shock to me when my father yelled out with all the rage and venom he felt towards me and brought his arm across my face. "Fuck," I hissed, holding where it hurt. I did not know whether my tears were from how I felt or because he had hit my glasses and forced them into my face. Not hesitating a second longer, I shot up out of my seat and ran away, yanking the front door open and running to my car. I was used to driving in the dark; I could drive with obscured vision in the middle of the day. It was only when my tears were filling up the space between my glasses and my face that I even remembered to pull them off so that they were not pressed so tight. But I gave them a quick pass over my shirt to dry them before putting them on again, then harshly scrubbed the back of my hand over my eyes to dry my tears, not caring that it hurt because I did not care about myself.
