locked in || a Rarl fanfiction ||

c. 4

trigger warning: abuse, bruises, self harm, homophobia, scars, talks about miscarriage, etc.
please don't read if you're sensitive to any of these topics or similar topics. i am NOT romanticizing them!! <3 if you're feeling suicidal or are suffering with mental health, please contact a trusted adult.

NATIONAL SUICIDE PREVENTION LINE/NUMBER: 1-800-273-8255

rons pov-

it's a surprise my own father doesn't know i'm gay, there's so many signs that just fly by his head. i don't know if my mom knows, but if she did she wouldn't care.

pete, whom i refuse to call my dad, is homophobic. i've thought about coming out to him so many times, but i know it would start a lot of shit.

there's been so many times that i've thrown myself in front of my mom and sam so he wouldn't hurt them, and right now is another one of those times.

"p-please- calm down... they didn't do anything to you." i stand in front of the both of them, catching a glimpse of my old self harm scars as my long sleeve shirt rolls up a little. i shake off the image and try not to think about it.

pete swings towards me.
his fist hits my cheek, and it stings.

really fucking bad.

i fall onto the floor, pushing my hands against it to try and get back up before he goes for them.
"go!" i whisper to them. it's always bad, but tonight he's extra pissed. and i'm not about to watch him take it out on them for the millionth time.

"ron no- i cant-"

"mom!" i glare at sam. she knows if she stays she'll put sam in danger too. she hates watching pete hurt me, i know that as a fact. but its better than us all getting hurt. especially sam, he's so sensitive.

she sobs and tugs sam to the other room. pete tries to run after them but i grab his ankle from the floor to stall him.

"leave them alone!" i yell, trying to stand.

he kicks me in the ribs and i let out a loud groan, the pain spreads to my chest.
"fuck." i cough. it hurts, but i don't give up.
i grab his shirt and throw my fist at his jaw as hard as i can, stinging my knuckles.
i then try to kick him in the nuts, but he punches me back to the ground; getting on me and repeatedly throwing his fists at my face.

i don't beg for him to stop, i just wait for the pain to end. showing pain makes him seem stronger, thats the last thing i want.
my father is the reason i'm careful around people, i'm basically hardened. i feel emotions, sure, everyone does; but i don't express them hardly ever.

i used to find relief in cutting, but eventually it stopped helping. my scars are daily reminders of the way i've suffered, and i try to hide them. sometimes i just don't give a fuck, like i'll wear t-shirts when it's hot and not even care who sees my scars.

i only hide them because i don't want the pity, they don't bother me anymore, but no one else needs to see them. they're a part of my body and there's no getting rid of them.

"fuck you!" i curse and try to fight back, head-butting pete just in time to back away.

my face throbs, i can barely stand the pain.
"watch your goddamn mouth! you fucking piece of shit!" he knees me in the same place in my ribs, making me whimper below him.