Bully || Septiplier

Chapter Twenty

Ok wtf we're at 2k already??? Thank you so muchhhhhhhhhhhh <3 enjoy the read

MARK walked through the front door of his house. Everything about his childhood home seemed the same as always, except for Mark himself; his legs were shaking, and he had a black eye and a sore spot on his hip because he was jumped in the parking lot at school. His walk had somewhat of a stagger to it. He was nervous, 1- for his mother to see him like this, and 2- for his mother to find out why he was like this. 

Mark knew that word spread fast to his mothers ears. Mostly because she was friends with many of Mark's classmates' parents. The last time, it was Wade's mom who contacted his mother and told her about Mark's sexuality. Now he wondered who would call.

The memory of the last time popped back into his head again, haunting him. He had to shake his head violently to make it go away, probably looking like an insane person, but not much caring. 

"Mom? Are you there?" Mark's footsteps sounded before him as he staggered into the living room. "Dad..?" And then suddenly his mother was staring at him from the doorway - how long was she standing there? The twelve year old flinched and gave her a faltered look. Then his father appeared, quickly stomping up to him; Mark barely had any time to react. His arm was tightly grasped and twisted and he was pushed to the ground with a surprised squeal of pain. "Are you gay, son?!" Barked his father, making Mark shiver in fear. "Y-yes si-" before he could reply, the pain of being slapped consumed his right cheek.

Mark glanced down at his torn shirt that revealed his stomach. He looked at the scars, both from himself and his parents. Nobody knew about them. He kept it a secret. Should he have? Should he call child services? The thought had crossed his mind many a time. But he knew his parents would find him, and they would want him back, and they would get him back and then punish him. Mark flinched at the thought of what they would do to him.

He brought up a hand and ran his fingers gently over a burn Mark, his most recent one. He remembered how it all stopped. After months and months of asking, he finally replied with the right answer.

His father stood over him on the ground, belt tightly in hand, eyes cold. His shadow overlapped Mark's small figure. Mark was quivering, still recovering from the belt Mark that was left on his ankle only moments ago. He heard his father ask again through the ringing in his ears; "Are you gay?!" And then Mark stopped and it hit him. This could all stop if he said no. Because maybe he could change. Maybe he was lying to himself, maybe he was greedy for the relief of pain and greedy to make it stop but he almost purred out the single word that would make it all end, the magic word- "No."

After that, things went back to normal. In reward for 'getting better', his father took Mark on a trip back to Ohio with him for buisness, and then the car accident took place, and everything just.. changed. Mark killed him. Or no, Mark wouldn't kill him. Either way it resulted in a painful death to his father, who believed Mark wasn't gay, but here he was. Mark was a liar. To himself, his dead father, his mother, Jack, his 'friends' - to everybody. He didn't know left from right anymore, didn't know what to think.

I am a murderer. The sentence repeated itself in Mark's head. He couldn't get it to stop. Fragments of memories spinning around in his head like a storm, tearing at his insides, at his common sense, at everything and he had to take deep, he at his to try to calm down.

"Mark? You're home early." And suddenly she was in the doorway that connected the dining room to the living room, frowning. Mark jumped in spot when he heard his mothers voice. He was home earlier because he had nobody to wait for to walk home; he was alone. Again. Just like he was in seventh grade, just like the first time. He watched silently, not responding as the woman stepped forward, one eye squinted in suspicion and then open wide in shock.

"What happened to your eye? Did you get in a fight?" She stood in front of him now, hand on her hip, frowning. Mark wanted to run away. But Mark also wanted so badly to react, maybe brush her off and act tough and walk to his room, saying merely it was nothing. I'm fine. But, regardless of his wishes, here he stood, almost quivering in place from an abrupt fear. Not many things scared Mark, aside from his parents. "Answer me."

"I got jumped by two guys," said Mark in a voice that wasn't his own. It was an even voice, a faltered strong voice. It was his scared voice, the one he used when he had something to hide; only two people knew this. Wade, who firsthand witnessed his scars a few years ago and witnessed Mark mumble up a lie as to what they were; and, unfortunately, Marks mother, who was now in this case frowning deeper. She knew he was lying.

"Who?"

"Bob and Wade," Mark answered too quickly, because he needed to blame somebody. And although there was probably a dictionary sized book of other people he could place the blame on, he spoke without thinking. Silly Mark. Fucked himself over again. Uh-oh. 

"Aren't they your friends?" -- "They were." It wasn't a lie, just not the entire story.

"I'll give their parents a call and straighten them out, then." She turned briskly, and Mark opened his mouth to argue but she was already gone, out the room and to the nearest phone. Of course, this sent red alerts through his mind and sirens almost literally went off in his head. Instinctually, he turned and ran, away from the room and his mother. 

He knew she would call and get the information that suddenly Mark was gay again. He knew she would react, not verbally but physically, and he didn't want that. He was scared. Fuck, he was scared, and there was only one thing he could think of doing in that situation - he ran, he fucking ran up the stairs and into his room where he shut and locked his door tightly. 

And then he began to cry, but silently; he didn't want to draw any attention to himself. He made use of his time while wiping away a few stray tears, grabbing his school bag and emptying it completely. A few continents he put back in - his binder, his beanie. But mostly he shoved the items away, opening his wardrobe drawers. Then he heard the footsteps and the yelling, and he began to fucking panic. 

Without thinking, he took an armful of clothes from a few of his drawers and threw them into his school bag, throwing in his tooth brush and such. He grabbed his phone charger and slid on a pair of old running shoes from his closet, sliding on a heavy hoodie, covering his face. There was a loud banging on his door and he flinched; zipping up his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and made his way to the window. 

It took a heave of strength, but Mark forced it open, rubbing his red eyes and snarling in pain and adrenaline. He was halfway out the window when his hands began to sting from the pressure; he closed the window behind him and crawled his way over the roof until he found an old latter and scampered down to ground level. He still heard his mother angrily calling his name, so he turned and ran again.

Once he figured he was a safe distance away, at a local playground, he took out his phone. He found Jack's contact and quickly sped-dialled his number, foot tapping impatiently on the ground. A few children were watching him questioningly as he cursed for the ringing to hurry up.

On the fourth ring, Jack picked up. "Hello?" 

"Jack, I-"

"I'm not in the mood, Mark." The boy's accent was suddenly bitter. It was obvious he was about to hang up, so Mark didn't think, he just spoke abruptly and loudly. 

"Wait!"

"What." Now Jack was impatient, but quite frankly Mark didn't care, he needed help and he was scared and his voice was urgent as if the world was ending. Which, in a way, it was.

"My mom found out and she's going to hurt me and I'm scared and I ran away and you're the only person I have left and I don't know what to do and I need help and I love you and I'm sorry and I'm fucking scared Jack."

"What?.. Calm down. Where are you?" 

"I'm at the park on fifth avenue and she's going to fucking find me-"

"I'll be there in five."