20 Ways To Kill Yourself ➳ Bullied By 5SOS

Chapter 11 - Abandoned

"Of course I remember, how could I forget!" I said in an overly fake enthusiastic voice, adding the fakest smile I could muster. "Now get out." my over exaggerated demeanour changed drastically from mock happiness to one of complete seriousness in a split second, my hand pointed to the front door behind me that was just begging to close on his face after kicking his filthy ass out of our humble abode.

"Maya, please." He almost begged pathetically, his eyes softening for what seemed like the first time ever.

"Well done, you remembered my name." I started, even taking out the extra effort to applaud. Putting my hands together and clapping was such a strenuous task for me, he should feel honoured. If that's not dedication then I don't know what is. "I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot who we were."

"Honey, we need to talk." My mother began, walking towards me and placing her hand on my shoulder before I moved away, painfully ignoring the sad expression that painted her face.

"Yes, I agree that we need to talk." I replied, adding extra emphasis on the 'we' part, motioning my hand between her and myself, obviously ignoring the stranger of a man that was plaguing my presence. "But he needs to leave." I negotiated, crossing my arms over my chest and standing firm so she knew I was serious.

"Come on Maya." His tone was hopeful, but I wasn't easily convinced. I knew the kind of man my father was and I knew he didn't come here to see his wife and kids after so long. There was more to what he was letting on and I was determined to find out.

"Don't come on Maya me. You've had 11 years to talk, but guess what? You're 11 years too fucking late!" I exclaimed, my eyes narrowing on his figure.

"Don't swear." I could hear my mother voice firmly, uncomfortable with my vulgar language.

"Well you can blame someone else for that. I mean, I did learn from the best." I shrugged, referring to the countless nights her sad excuse of a husband would come home late, only to release his anger out on mom, multiple curse words tumbling out from his mouth that shall not be repeated.

Before any of us could utter as much as another word, I ran up the stairs towards the solitude of my bedroom, my backpack dragging behind me. Dumping it somewhere in the corner of my room, I practically fainted onto my bed, the events of today slowly creeping up on me as a yawn escaped my lips. I couldn't fully comprehend why people needed to 'get ready' for bed. Like, I'm always up for sleeping. If there was one job I knew I would be perfect for, it would be professional sleeping.

Pulling my phone out from my pocket, I was about to sent a quick text to Ashton who would most likely be on his way home from work by now. But as I unlocked it, a notification popped up that had my mind swimming in confusion.

It was a text from an unknown number that read 7 simple words: 'Guess you're not so abandoned after all.'

I was feeling slightly scared as to who this mystery person was. It seemed like they were referring to the mysterious return of my father... and how this person knew that was beyond me.

I decided to ignore it for now, my brain too physically tired to function as I messaged Ashton, deciding how I would phrase what I wanted to say. So after typing and quickly backspacing multiple times, I decided to just be blunt and come out with it.

Me: Dad's here.

He replied almost instantaneously.

Ash: haha, funny joke but halloween's over.

Of course he didn't believe me. If the man who walked out on you returned years later, would you believe it too?

I must have ended up falling asleep for longer than I had imagined, as the world outside my curtains was black. My arms were dangling off the side of the bed, my body half covered with the duvet, my glasses were crooked on my face and my hair looked similar to a raven's nest.

Gazing at the time, I saw that it was only almost 5. This whole getting dark at 5pm was so deceiving and was honestly fucking with my productivity...

After taking a refreshing shower, I wiped off the condensation that had formed on the mirror, looking at myself in disgust, upset that I couldn't see my ribs despite the furious growls of my stomach that I continued to ignore. Getting dressed, I made my way down the stairs to witness the scene unfolding.

Ashton was standing, isolated, leaning his head against the wall, his face stern as an angry expression took over his features. His jaw was clenched and it looked as though he was deep in thought, his line of vision following into blank space.

On the complete other side of the spectrum, our father, or as I liked to refer to him as a joint sperm donor, considering the fact that he neglected the 'fatherly' title long ago, along with us, sitting comfortably on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. Bad memories began to surface as I subconsciously touched my shoulder, my mind going back to the events of that night...

I had a bad dream and couldn't sleep, running into my parent's bedroom to find it empty. I ran down the stairs, Mr Snuggles, my teddy bear trailing along the steps as I gripped him tightly in my small hands while the other wiped tears from my eyes. And there in the living room, the time reading past 2 am, was my mother nodding off to sleep in the couch, my father nowhere to be seen.

"Maya, what's wrong?" She had said to me, worry etched on her face as I ran into her open arms. I still remember explaining exactly what my nightmare was about. Never would I have known that it would come true years later.

"What are you doing down here mommy, and where's daddy?" I had asked when it was silent, but before she had gotten a chance to answer, the front door slammed open and in he tumbled.

Being just 5 years old, I didn't understand the idea of being drunk, so I reacted how any other child would have reacted after seeing their father for the first time in so many weeks. I was about to run up and hug him, but I remember how my mother went stiff, holding a firm grip onto my small frame. She had whispered something in my ear that had my heart shaking in fear.

"Run upstairs and lock the door."

Of course I was confused, but I was frozen in fear as his voice bellowed, interrupting the peaceful quiet of the house. I couldn't recall the drunk words that spewed out from his alcohol reeking mouth that day, but the one thing that will forever be ingrained in my head will be the way he shoved my tiny body into the glass coffee table as I tried to get between his violent stature and my poor mother who stood there, her pleas for him to stop a useless attempt at shielding herself from the beatings.

The rest of that night is a blur, the reminder being the marks on my shoulder that had collided with the glass, shards peppering my skin as the suture marks will forever remain scarred into my skin. After being discharged from the hospital, Ashton was much more weary of us when father was around.

He would take the abuse so mother wouldn't have to. But it was futile. Our father's anger could never be tamed. Every night would be the same. The beatings would never stop. Until one day he just never came back.

Until now.

And I was curious as to why...

(a/n): hi 

so many things happening... 

1) 11 years later he turns up... why?

2) text from unknown number... who dis?

3) she had a nightmare that came true... what?

i'm s o v a g u e b y e c y o u n e x t w e e k : )