Lessons

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Ah, the first day of winter holidays.

"Do you fucking know how much that is gonna cost, you mother fucker!?" He snarled, grabbing me by the hair and throwing me to the ground.

Wonderful, isn't it?

I get up on my hands and knees. We're still in the bathroom. I fell asleep in here after not picking up the glass, which means Alfred caught me and kicked me in the stomach, causing my elbows to give out.

"I knew I should've never kept you!" Kick. "After you fucking killed Elisa like that!" Kick. "I should've dumped you on the streets and left you for dead!"

I wish you would have.

The only things supporting me are my knees and my left forearm. The glass under me is digging into my appendage deeper with each kick.

"And then, after all I've done for you, you fucking break shit!" Kick. "You ungrateful little -!"

He gives me another good jut with his boot and then leaves me there, muttering, "Clean this crap up before I come back."

The 'or else' is implied.

"Y-yes, s-sir," I wheeze, because it's hard to fucking breathe.

He stomps from the room and I hear him cross the living room, go down the hall and then open the door roughly. The entire time, I stay in my position, which is painful and stiff. When I hear the door close, I let myself collapse in a pile of glass, many pieces poke and cut me shallowly.

I was so stupid to just fall asleep in here. I really was. It was a really foolish thing to do. I was just asking for this to happen. It isn't Alfred's fault, it's mine. I'm such an imbecile, leaving the glass on the floor. Punching the mirror in the first place. My hand hurts, and it's cut up, but I don't think it's broken. I wiggle my fingers and only experience the stinging pain of the open cuts.

Not broken, thank goodness. I do not need another cast.

Although, it felt good to release some of that pent up anger. But I really shouldn't have. I should have dealt with it calmly, rationally. I should have collected myself, and I can't ever let anything like this happen again. Did you know glass hurts? I should get up and move but...but I'm tired, and is it really worth it?

I'm still looking down at my reflection in the broken glass. Broken into a million pieces, just like me. I can't stay here for too long, or I'll be tempted to just end it right now...I mean, there are a lot of nice, sharp edges around...

"Oh shit."

It took me a moment to notice that wasn't my voice.

I feel hands on my back and then on my hand and I lie completely still as fingers press into my wrist to check my pulse. He heaves a sigh – of what I don't know. Then his hands slide under my stomach and pull me up. I wince and moan in pain and he growls.

"For fuck's sake, brat, what he effing do to you?" He muttered. Seaton... why do I feel so much happier now that he's here? Why's my heart jumping into my throat like it's trying to suffocate me?

"N...nothing..." I pant as he raises me to my feet. I'm bleeding. It's not bad –not compared to whippings –but it's pretty gruesome.

"Stop lying," He spits, throwing my arm over his shoulder and easily holding me up. "I want to know what happened."

"How... how did you know?" I gasp as he leads me out into the living room and we start down the hallway. Am I going outside like this?

"I was outside smoking and your dad came fucking raging out," Seaton sneers as we reach the door, "I saw blood on his boot. Thought I'd check it out."

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