Deceived Heart (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 22

I walked into my house Monday after school to come face to face with my angry looking father. The living room was messy and filled with boxes of takeout food and empty bottles of beer. The only thought I had going through my head was "shit shit shit" before he grabbed me and slammed me into the wall.

"Where the fuck were you for the past few day you stupid cunt?" he spat at me. His breath wreaked of alcohol and cigarettes.

"I s-stayed over at a friend's house," I lied.

"Why?" he asked as he slammed me against the wall again.

"I don't know," I whimpered. I had no idea what else to say.

"Don't fucking lie to me!" he screamed as he slammed me against the wall once more.

"I told you. I don't know," I said quietly.

"You fucking idiot!" he said as he threw me to the floor. I backed up against the wall and whimpered.

"You're a useless little shit you know that! Fuck you and your stupid worthless little self!" he grabbed a beer bottle and chucked it at my head. It missed me by a bit and the glass flew everywhere and some of it landed on my clothes.

"You son of a bitch! I fucking hate you! You're useless! I didn't even want a fucking son! You were a goddamn mistake!" he picked me up from the floor and slammed me against the table.

"P-please stop," I begged.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Pl-please s-stop.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do!" he took me by my hair and shoved me face first against the couch. He held my head down, and I couldn't move. My lungs were lacking oxygen, and I couldn't breath. I struggled against him, but he wouldn't let go of my head.

"You're such a little fuck up, and I hope you fucking know that," he pulled my head off the couch and wrapped his hands around my throat. I coughed and choked. I reached up to try to get his hands off my neck, but he wouldn't budge. He laughed at my attempt of trying to get him off of me and slammed me against the wall again.

"I fucking hate you!" he screamed as he punched me in the stomach. I fell to the floor in pain, and felt him kicking me a couple of times before he finally stopped.

"Clean this fucking mess up now, or else I'll beat you until you die," he spat at me and stomped off to his room and slammed his door shut. I layed on the floor in pain for I don't know how lung until the pain subsided. I slowly got up and doubled over while cursing. I wanted to just go up to my room and rest, but I couldn't. I had to clean up the fucking living room before my dad comes out and sees that it's still messy. If I didn't he'd beat me to death, and I know he wouldn't hesitate to do that.

Once I was done cleaning the house of beer bottles, takeout food boxes, shattered glass, and cigarette stubs, I went up to my room and layed on my bed in absolute darkness. My whole body ached, and I felt like shit just like usual. I stayed in bed for a little while longer before making my way to the bathroom. I stripped down to my boxers and looked at myself in the mirror and cringed at my appearance. 

There were dark circles under my eyes, my hair was greasy, and bruises were scattered all over my body. Bruises from my father's beatings covered me from head to toe. I was surprised at how well I covered them up. I rummaged through the bathroom drawers until I found what I was looking for. The only thing that could be my release from my shitty life. A blade.

I sat on the toilet and put the blade against my thigh. I cut deep, but not too deep to hit a vein. Blood trickled down my leg and hit the bathroom floor. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the toilet seat feeling relief flood through me. The pain felt so good at the moment. I then took the blade and put it against my other thigh. I took a deep raggedy breath and sliced into my thigh. Oh how good the pain felt. I loved the feeling of the blade against my skin, and the feeling of my blood slowly trickling down my legs. 

I took the blade off my skin and tossed it around with my hands. I sat there for a while letting my blood dry while deep breaths came out of my mouth. I washed off the blood from the blade and my thighs; then I put my blade back into the drawer behind everything to make sure my dad wouldn't find it. Not that he would care if I self harmed or not though. He'd probably be glad that I did because he was an asshole like that.

I went back to my room and shut my eyes trying to get some sleep, but it wouldn't come to me. I sayed up all night listening to music and waiting for my dad to leave the house to go to work. I wasn't going to school today. My body hurt too much, and I was just too lazy to go. Once I heard the front door slam shut, I quietly got out of my bed and made my way over to his room.

I sat down on the floor of his room and looked under his bed. I grabbed the box that I was looking for and took the lid off. I stared at the contents of the box for a bit before I finally reached in and carefully spread out all the items on the floor in front of me. I smiled at the pictures that were in the box and picked one of them up to look at it closer. It was a picture of my father, my mom, and me. I was about 10 in the picture, and we all looked genuinely happy with big smiles covering our faces. If only little me knew what would happen in a few more years. 

My mom was beautiful. She had black hair, brown eyes, and was pretty tall for a woman. In the picture, my dad looked happy and not bitter like the man he was today. He had brown eyes and black hair as well, and he was skinny. Now he was losing hair and getting fat, and he was getting angrier and bitter with every passing day. I put the photo down and picked up the next item.

It was my mother's necklace. It was a heart shaped locket that my dad gave to her on their wedding anniversary. She never went anywhere without it, and would always reach up to touch it when she had the chance. Sitting there looking at everything that was in the box made me sad and realized how shitty my life turned out to be after my mom died. I carefully placed everything back in the box and put the lid that was labeled "Johannah" on it, and pushed the box back under the bed. I felt it hit something else that was under the bed.

My curiousity got the best of me, and I looked under the bed to find another box there. I hesitantly took the box and placed it in front of me. It wasn't labeled anything which was weird. I took the lid off and stared wide eyed at what was in it. There were packs of cigarettes and bags of weed in the box along with stacks of money and another bag of white powder, which was most likely drugs. I never would've thought my dad would be the type to do drugs. I just knew he drank a lot and smoked, but that's it. Plus where did he even get the money from? Why didn't he use it to get us a better apartment or some shit? Was he only saving it just to get more beer and drugs for himself? 

I hastily put the box back under the bed not wanting to think about it anymore. Everything was getting to be too much for me. I quickly made my way out of his room not wanting to spend another second in there, knowing what he hid under his bed. How often did he get high? Where did he get so much money from? So many questions were in my head I couldn't stand it. In that moment, I promised myself I would never become like my father. I didn't want to screw up my life, and be a bitter angry man who hated the world with a passion. I will never be like him.

*****

twitter: @cagedtommo

instagram: angela_k13

Hope you enjoyed this chapter :)