"You're not real," I cry under my breath.
"What are you talking about?" Alex asks.
"Your not real. When I try to introduce you, you disappear." I day letting the tears fall down my face "you said you would protects me."
I lift my shirt from my body and reveal the marks my dad made. He lets out a small gasp and tries to run his hand over a bruise but I quickly swat away his hand.
"Please don't touch me." I whisper looking down.
"John please." He pleads.
"Don't call me John." I respond "Just please leave my house."
His face starts to get red again and his hands curl into fists. I back away into my corner, afraid of what he would do to me. The look stays with him as he walks closer to me. I bring my knees closer to my body, trying to disappear.
His foot steps reach my body and I feel a foot collide with my rib. I scream out in pain, because my father had hit me there earlier in the day. No one comes into the room for my rescue since everyone is out shopping.
He continues with the beating until the realization hits him.
"I-im so so-sorry" He bends down and tries to put his hand on my shoulder. I start crying harder and scream at him to leave. I look up just in time to see a tear run down his face and him climbing out the window. When I know that he's gone I get up and walk to my drawers. I grab my matches and walk, well wobble to the kitchen and get the gasoline my dad hides in the pantry for no reason.
I unlock the back door, going to the tree house. The half mile walk was the most painful thing Id ever experienced but I knew the pain was about to end. I reached the tree house finally and started climbing up the tree ladder.
I poured the gasoline everywhere. Before I did anything else,I laid down. appreciating all the vents that had taken place in the sacred place. pulled out my matches. I pulled each against the little lighty part (idk) and threw them. The flames roared and I gladly excepted the pain.
Epilouge:
3rd person pov
His mom found the body 8 hours after he had. She planned his funeral. She divorced her husband, and took custody of their children.
"Would anyone like to share memories?" The pastor (I think that's a person idk I'm not religious) asked.
A man stood, his long hair pulled back into a bun.
"I would."
***
Sorry this sucks I'm not good at dramatic. thank youuu for 507 reads!!
YOU ARE READING
A crap ton of (mostly) lams one shots
FanfictionLams one shots. I can take requests, I can do smuts just becuase I'm going to finish the book soon. I can also do fluffs and all that stuff. there also may be some different one shots every now and then. Also almost all the endings are sad.
