Alone, No More (Harringrove)

Chapter 17//To Fall and Rise

TW: abuse

The drive from Steve's house felt like forever. For some reason, every house Billy passed felt like deja vu, like he had been driving in the same spot over and over again.

He didn't want to leave the Harrington residence. The way Steve looked more at ease than he ever had in his presence made every fiber in his body want to stay with him.

"And where have you been?" Neil's angry voice broke Billy out of his trance as he quietly entered his house."Do you know what time it is?!" Regardless the fact that earlier that day he had fought a monster from another world, his heart raced more at the sound of his father's voice.

Billy, secretly shaking in his boots, did not respond. He knew better than to say anything back to Neil, other than anything the man wanted him to say. He chose to shrug and avoid eye contact.

His father had been seated in the living room like he had been waiting for Billy to get home, but he knew better. Billy knew he had heard the camaro pull up and jumped at the chance to yell at his son.

The man stood and slowly, yet menacingly, walked up to Billy. His eyes glazed over and fuming with anger. Billy braced himself. He knew what came next.

SLAP!

Billy's head whipped to the side. His cheek began to burn, but he didn't respond; he knew better. He glared at his father, letting the hatred that coursed through his veins poke through just a bit.

"It's almost one in the morning!" Neal bellowed, a vessel popped from his thick neck, and his face became more and more red.

SLAP!

Blonde curls bounced as Billy's face swung to the other side, pain flowering on his other cheek. It hurt every time, but Billy held back the growl that longed to erupt from his belly; he had practice on holding back. Then his father took a fist full of Billy's hair, pulling his face inches away from his own.

"Tell me boy," he said so quietly, Billy had to strain to hear, blowing the bitter scent of whiskey into his son's nostrils. "What time, is curfew?"

"I'm 18," Billy bravely sassed his father back. "I shouldn't have a curfew". Which was a mistake, and he should have known better.

His father let an animal-like chuckle come from his chest, then he pulled back and launched his fist into Billy's stomach. Billy grunted, and toppled to the floor, while clutching his midsection in pain.

"Don't ever miss curfew, boy," Neal warned, lightly kicking Billy's shin. "If you don't like it, then fucking leave".

The man turned, and went into his room to join his wife in bed, leaving Billy in a heap in the front entrance. Billy lamented for a moment before getting up, on how badly he wanted to leave.

But he couldn't. Not while Max lived under Neal's 'care'. Of course he considered child services, but he knew they'd take her away, and he couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let her fall into the system. God knows what people were like, then.

"Fuck," Billy cursed quietly to himself, trying to pick himself up from the carpet. His arms wobbled and he had to bite down on his lip to hold back a yelp from the pain.

It took him a long time, and plenty of leveraging himself on the wall, but he made it to his own room. He shut the door, and fell onto his bed, feeling exhausted and in pain.

He managed to let his mind wander back to Steve. He wondered where his parents always were, and if they loved him; if they hurt him like Neal did. He deserves love, Billy thought, having no strength to hold such things back.