All rights go to Rick Riordan
Age 8
I'm sitting up stairs in my room, listening to my music and reading.
That's literally all I do.
You see my parents, when drunk, are abusive.
I can deal with it though.
When I upset them they get drunk, if I don't upset them they don't bother me, they still get drunk though.
They smoke like chimneys as well.
Even for my age I can tell it's not good for them.
"Will!" My drunken mother screeches from downstairs.
"Your father and I want you!"
I walk downstairs my parents hit me when I run.
"Now Will," my father slurs. "We have a problem and its your fault."
I gulp, not knowing what I've done makes it worse.
"I'm gonna die soon from a little shitty thing called cancer." My father states drunkly.
I don't know how to react, my father dying and I'm kinda a happy.
"I smoked cause you were doing me headin'."
That's how I got Beaton untill I was knocked out.
Because I had school off, all my bruises would heal before I went back to school.
Age 10
I'm at my fathers funeral and I'm not shedding any tears.
My mom isn't either.
She didn't really love the old fool, she was just loosing it.
Age 15
"Will," my mother calls, thankfully sober, "I wanna have a chat with you." She says, deadly seriously.
"Look I know this is gonna be hard, but because I don't work and I'm using your fathers compensation money for us. I have to foster."
My life was over.
I couldn't deal with a younger brother.
"When will he be hear?" I asked, afraid of the answer.
"Right around now."
We waited around five minutes until their was a knock on the door.
"Will, Will you get the door." I stood up and saw the most gorgeous person ever.
"H-hi I'm Will your foster brother." But I don't want to be.
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