Twisted

FOURTEEN

¡ WARNING !

This chapter will contain some pretty messed up stuff. This may include:

• Violence
• Swearing
• Homophobic Terms

If you want to read this chapter, please proceed with caution. If not, just PM me if you want a clean version of this chapter. I will be glad as to do so.

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┊         ┊       ┊   ┊    ┊        •°
┊         ┊       ┊   ┊   ˚✩ ⋆｡˚  °✩
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┊         ┊       ☪︎⋆          °         °          °
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.•         ┊   ˚            °       
            ˚✩.        .                 °

ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ : ᴇsᴄᴀᴘɪsᴍ - sᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ (ᴢᴀᴄʜ ᴄᴀʟʟɪsᴏɴ ғᴛ. ᴀᴊ ᴍɪᴄʜᴀʟᴋᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀᴀᴄᴇ ʀᴏʟᴇᴋ)

⏮   ⏪     ⏸     ⏩   ⏭

◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈

"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP WITH YOUR pathetic crying!" Screamed Mr Cheney, throwing his son against the wall. His mother watched from afar, giving her son the dirtiest glare known to mankind. "You're pathetic! Useless!"

I guess I have to face,

"I have a faggot of a son! I wish you never existed!" Cried he, as he harshly tossed a packed bag at the shaking boy. Then, he grabbed a nearby vase filled with beautiful white roses and threw it onto the laminated wood floor in anger. Water splashed all over the place, and the roses were covered in tiny shards of glass and droplets of water: a combination that made them look like diamonds on a rose. He proceeded to then grab the biggest shard of glass and approached the teenage boy slowly, a sinister grin on his face. His mother still watched from afar, still giving a glare and an intimidating vibe that mixed with the sinister intentions his father had.

That in this awful place,

 

        "Leave me alone!" Screamed Rogue as he crawled away. He clutched his bag in one arm (his injured arm) and used the other as support to hold him up. His crimson eyes were wide with fear. He wanted to leave so badly, but why couldn't he just run?

I shouldn't show a trace of doubt.

          "Don't talk back to me you little piece of shit!" Yelled his father as he lunged at him with the glass shard. Rogue screamed and quickly dodged the hit. He struggled to get up as his father latched onto his leg like a lost puppy.
          "Let go of me!" Rogue screeched as he hit his father with his bulky bag. His father let out a groan as the bag made contact with his head. His mother just watched as it all unfolded. She watched as her son grabbed the glass shard from her husband's hand watched as he aggressively stabbed his father's hand. She watched as her husband bled. She watched as her son picked up his bags and left through the front door, leaving her alone with her beloved.

But pulled against the grain,

          "Natsu?" Rogue softly said into the phone. "I'm by the bridge. I-I ran away from home. I couldn't take it anymore. O-oh. Okay. Bye."
           Rogue sighed as he put his phone back into his pocket. He took deep breaths of cold air and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. Then, he sat by the railings of the bridge and thought about the times he would come here with her, and how she promised him that she would never get sick. He had to admit that he might've had the tiniest crush on her at the time, but that was the past and the past is the past. It all was alright until he just upped and left. She became so sad and never really was the same until after that. Rogue tried his hardest to cheer her up but he never could do it the same way he could.
          His parents were right, he really was useless.

I feel a little pain,

Rogue couldn't do even the simplest things when he was young. He struggled to do so much as speak. When he became distant from his friends and started studying back in his earlier years, his parents just assumed he was taking his studies seriously. Instead, he was casting himself away from anyone who wanted to be friends with him. He was then titled the 'Emo Kid' of the school.  That was the end of it. He thought about how his actions brought him to the current situation and depicted what could've happened if he never told his parents about his sexuality. Would things still be the same? Would he still have a loving and supporting home? What would happen if he ended it all?

That I would rather do without.

          His life, what was it? Heck, what is the meaning of life? Fourty-two? To get a good job? To have a family and a lover? Nah. He could never have any of those things. Not even fourty-two. He knew that Sting would never like him back. He knew he could never have a family. Everything he has, his friends, his family, his school and home, he doesn't deserve any of it. He lowered his head into his arms and cried. Why was life so cruel? Heck, why was he living?

I'd rather be free.

He could just end it all, jump off the bridge and it would be all done. He's jump of this bridge, this bridge where it all started. Where he texted Natsu about him supposedly being 'straight' and if he wasn't he'd 'smash' Sting. Looking back at it, why did he do that? That wasn't like him. It isn't even him. So why continue to pretend when you can end it all?

I'd rather be free.

No, Rogue saw no more purpose in his life. This was the end. This is the end. He slowly got up from his stationary position and looked over the bridge railings. Dark, murky water awaited him below. The little fishies. The freezing cold impact. The air that would try to stop him but never could. The flailing and the giving up. The feeling of achievement and success but sadness and regret to fill him as he made impact with the river waters.

I'd rather be free.

Maybe he didn't want to run away from home because it was where he grew up having so many great, yet terrible memories. From amazing birthdays to days in locked in the bathroom unable to do anything. Yea. That was his life and this was the end of it. Those days when his mother and father greeted him with pancakes beholding a syrup smile and fruity hair. Those days when he would cry alone and isolated in his room with blood dripping from his arms and wrists. The weeks when he would feel confident and great, then the weeks when he wouldn't go out at all and would have dark circles under his eyes. His life basically summarised a downward spiral, his downfall. From great to the most depressed dude in school. He scribbled a quick note, took off his shoes and left the note under his right shoe then stepped onto the railings, balancing himself with his arms.

Free,

He looked once more at the water beneath him. Dark, murky. Welcoming and pleasant. This is the end. This was the end. This is the end. He let himself slowly fall forwards and felt the air hit his face as he fell. He closed his eyes and accepted his defeat. This was the end of the pale, sickly boy.

From here.