Sweaters || Malum

Chapter 19

Song for the chapter: Don't You Go by All Time Low

Trigger warning: Abuse/Sexual Abuse (<< Only slightly)

--

It had been a week since I last cut.

It was closing up nicely and showed no signs of infection, so I guess I was good. I am counting down the day to the talent show. The auditions are about ten minutes away. It begins at 3:30 and I am third to go. Michael, Luke, and Ashton promised me that they would go to see my audition.

I picked a more upbeat song for the audition, though I was going to be singing Welcome to my Life by Simple Plan for the actual talent show. I was playing my acoustic in the band room, making sure I remembered all the chords and words. I felt nervous, but most of the Twitter business has died down. People are still bullying me, and I felt so alone. I was glad to have three loyal people, not listening to anything online.

Not anymore at the very least.

"Okay, can we please have all the people who are auditioning to go backstage. First up is Samantha Cooke." I hear the principal say. I get up from the chair and head out into the auditorium, going up the stairs to backstage. I see a girl walk out onto the stage with a small radio. I look out and see Michael, Luke, and Ashton sitting in the front row. 

The girl presses the button and goes up to the microphone. Is she singing? What if she is better than me?

"I've got a fire for a heart, I'm not scared of the dark..." She begins and I want to cover my ears. Not only was it the overplayed tune of Drag me Down by One Direction, but her voice was off. The radio was a bit loud and drowned out her out of tune voice.

After she sings the song the judges thank her and she leaves the stage. The principal goes back and says; "That was a good performance Samantha. Now we have James Winston." She says and walks off the stage again. 

James goes on the stage with his own radio and I sigh in annoyance. He was going to sing as well? I look around at the small crowd of people around me and I grip my guitar in nervousness. But I hear instrumentals sound and my attention turns back to the stage. James was dancing hip hop and I would like to say that it wasn't bad. Pretty good, actually.

After the music ends he does a final move and then the audience stands up and applauds him. She smiles broadly, grabbing his radio and exiting the stage. Again, the principal comes onto the stage and says, "Now we have Calum Hood." And leaves.

I frown and walk out onto the stage. The lights were almost blinding and I was shaking in nervousness. I can't mess this up. I can't. I look out at the small crowd and then to my three friends. They give me a thumbs up and I nod to them.

I play the familiar chords and begin singing. "Settle back now and raise a toast, to the young ones growing old..."

My confidence for the singing and guitar playing grew as the song continued. At the end of it I look back to everybody and they were standing for me. Similar to what they did for James. I see approval from the judges and I smile widely. I felt slightly accomplished. I leave the stage happily and the principal announces the next person who was going to be going.

I go and sit in the front row with my friends and watch the rest of the acts.

--

I nervously go into my house, closing the door gently. I run up to my room, dropping my guitar where it was supposed to be. I hear a knock on my door and I pause and dread immediately fills me. I go over to my door, opening it.

My father stands directly behind it with a malicious smile on his face.

"Father." I greet.

"Why are you home later than usual?" He questions me.

I shrug and reply, "Stayed after school."

He slaps me across the face but I keep my gaze on him. "I pay your fucking phone bill for a reason!" He yells at me and I flinch at his tone.

"I need to do homework now." I inform him, attempting to close my door. His response his to shove it open, forcing me to fall. He bends down, lifting me by the collar of my shirt. He punches me three times on the left cheek and I begin to cry.

Why am I so weak?

He forces me up against my bed frame and I was trapped. He grips my hair tightly and forces my head back. I look up at him, tears in my eyes and down my cheeks. "Man up boy." He tells me, backhanding me. He releases the grip on my hair and his hands go to his jeans. 

"What are you doing?" I question him, my voice quiet from my own defeat and vulnerability. Soon he pulls down his hands and I see his... thing. My father's thing. "Father." I cry, turning my head away and closing my eyes.

"I have been wanting this. Your Mum has never been very submissive. She was never a weak woman. I liked that about her. But you being so weak and pitiful? I enjoy it a lot more." He angrily whispers. 

I try to move away from him, but I was trapped. He grips my hair again and I open my eyes. He forces my head to turn towards his member. "Father don't." I cry. 

"You're a fag, what do you care? I bet you do this all the time. Slut." He insults me and I continue to cry. What have I done to my father to deserve this?

"Open." He orders and I shake my head. He fist soon hits my throat and my mouth involuntarily opens as I gasp for air. He shoves his member inside of my mouth and I immediately begin to choke. I continue crying as he moves his own thing in and out of my mouth. "Continue crying boy, this isn't going to be the last of it." He threatens, laughing a bit at the end.

I think about biting him down there, but then realize that my father is honestly a very fucked up person. He would probably almost kill me, leave me beaten and bruised and not do anything about it later.

I just continue to cry as he does this, and I felt used. I felt like I wanted to end it right away. Right after this. But when he finishes his business he leaves without a word. I go to my bathroom and begin puking up in shame and in disgust. I am not sure how long I spent bent over the toilet, but I knew I couldn't do this anymore.

I flush the toilet and stand up, undressing myself. I turn on the water of the shower and get in. The hot water begins turning my skin red and I just sit down and wince a bit. The hot water made me feel better though. The pain I was experiencing from it made me feel like I had control once again.

Just cut. This is just proving the fact you're weak.

My arms began to itch with the want, the need, to cut. But I wasn't going to do it. Not this time. I needed more restraint. My mentality is what is fucking me over. But I will be okay. In a few week's time, I'll be okay.