Explosion (Kellic)

Done

A few hours later I was pretty sure I was on track to get hypothermia. I'd never been so cold in my life. My fingers and toes had lost feeling and my ears burned, as they often did when I was cold. The only positive thing that I could think about was that my bruises and stuff were getting iced. I couldn't feel the pain of anything anymore, but it was just so damned cold.

About an hour after that I heard the front door slam. Footsteps came closer to the basement and that door creaked open, then slammed, too. Someone started clomping down the stairs, shutting off the water on the way down.

"Are you done yelling?"

"A-are you d-d-done l-liv-ving?" I asked, shivers shaking my body so much that I couldn't speak properly. "Y-your f-fo-otsteps are ssssso h-heavy, o-old man."

I felt proud of myself for my outword defiance. I was sure that I was going to die. One hundred and fifty percent sure. I found it a bit funny, though. How I'd been trying to hard to please my parents, to come home on time, to hide things from them, and yet the whole time they didn't give a flying fuck what I did. Nothing was ever enough.

I remember the first time my father hit me. We'd just had dinner and I dropped a bit of food on the floor while I was cleaning up. I was about thirteen or fourteen at the time and he just smacked me. Like I was some idiot. It wasn't like I couldn't clean it up. Or wouldn't. We were never rich, not rich enough to turn me into some posh little bitch. I'd always tried to be a good kid.

My grades were amazing. A stellar performance, even in AP classes. It wasn't that I was particularly smart, I just worked really hard. Working hard gets you somewhere. Talent is just a bit of luck, luck that can be abused and wasted, or magnified so that you become something amazing. Me? I would never be anyone amazing, but that's okay. I was ready to die. I really was. It's something I'd wanted for myself for such a long time, something I'd been trying to achieve for years, and now it was a sure thing. 

My father was going to kill me.

Everything would be better after that because believe it or not, I loved my parents. I wanted them to be the happiest they could be. I obviously didn't make them happy. Unless my pain was something they fed on, and the more infuriating part of my heart told me that they didn't. I was just a bad kid. A terrible listener, even to my parents. That didn't mean I hadn't tried. And that didn't mean they hadn't made it hard for me.

As for Vic, the kiss was nice. The little compliments warmed my heart even after his usual cold self. We'd never had much of a conversation. And I'd never get to ask why he had such an innate hatred towards me. He'd sorta explained it back at the Lounge, but it didn't make much sense to me. And Mike . . . well Mike would always hold a special place in my heart. He was the first person to take a positive interest in me, no matter how fake it was.

My father's hand flying through the air didn't phase me. I wanted him to hit me. To beat me so badly that it was over. There was a small part of me, small, but maybe even bigger than I thoughts, that hated the pain and the humiliation. That loathed myself for being so pathetic as to wish for the unkind embrace of death. But the other part asked, 'Why should death be painted as the bad guy? He got cast for the shitty part.' And to that, I have no real answer. Why should death be feared? Be hated? Be loved? No one can know. Any hypothesis's will never be proven.

I didn't even feel the sting of his slap and was rather grateful for my numb skin. My father got in my face, snot flying from his nose because he was breathing so hard. It actually made me want to laugh. Laugh at myself, for being so blind before. Laugh at him, for looking like a monkey when I needed him to be a bull. Laugh at the situation, because it was so horribly unrealistic. So far out of this world that it should really belong to the horror genre.

"Do you want to die?" he asked slowly. Yes, I thought. Yes I do. You've hurt me too badly for me to want anything else. "Is that fucking it? Is that why you've always been such a disobedient brat?"

I nodded.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING SAY YES YOU WORTHLESS PEICE OF SHIT."

I looked at him for a moment, glaring, sizing him up. Weighing how much I cared versus how much I didn't. Then, in a steady voice I said, "Yes."

"FUCK YOU!" His fists started slamming down on my face, pummeling me to bits. He used both hands, right, left, up, down, and every angle he could get at. When he was finally done I could barely see, both eyes swollen shut, and there was blood running down my face. My head pounded.

I worked up a glob of spit and blood, shooting it out at his already pissed looking face. It caught him off guard and hit directly on target. His skin turned a bright red color as he wiped it off.

And the best part was that I didn't even regret it.

Even when he brought out the bat.

Yo this chapter was actually really fun to write. At first I had like literally 300 words but then I was like, ew what a shitty thing to do to you guys lmao so I put in all that stuff about not caring. The funny thing about characters is that even though the author writes them, every word, every action, we're not them. They have their own personalities that form no matter what we do. That's why I've been hating this story so much; because I don't like the way it's going on it's own. I don't want it to evolve, but it doesn't matter. The story does what it wants to. So does Kellin. He doesn't have to be pushed around. He doesn't have to be weak or frightened.

So FUCK THAT.

Be your own person. You're you. Life makes you you. And if you don't like it, then fuck it. Move on. Change. Suck up the pain and use it against your demons. I believe that there's nothing more powerful in this world than pain. Some people say that love is the most powerful, but I don't know what love feels like. Not really. I can say I love the flowers, I love my sister, I love these bands, but I have no fucking clue what that means. I know pain. Pain could be considered one of my best friends and you know what's not? Those who cause me pain. Emotions are powerful. Use them.

Wew that got cheezzzzzzzy at the end. I really want some muffins now. Aiight stay cool mah doods.

k thanks