Why?(A Tommyinnit Angst Story)

Prologue

TW:

Blood

Abuse

Fighting

Swearing

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Tommy winced as he heard shouting from the living room again. 

'Why don't they stop...?' he thought hopelessly as tears pricked at the edges of his vision. 'Why can't we just be happy like all my friends-' Tommy had been to his friends houses before. To say the least he was confused. There was no fighting, no screaming, no shattered plates or wine glasses, all his friends families seemed so happy. Tommy let out a small whimper as he heard glass shatter against his door, staring at the door with wide eyes from underneath his desk.

He was too young. 9 was too young to understand what was happening, 9 years old was his age and yet he had seen more tears and shouting than some others would see in their life. 

"Screw you I'm leaving!" Tommy heard his mother shout followed by stomping and a slam that seemed to rattle the house. It left Tommy shaking even after the vibrations in the walls were long gone. His breath hitched in his throat as he took in a shuddering breath, his mother had left. Tommy had no idea whether she was coming back or not... hopefully she would. He didn't like his father much, his father threw things at him and yelled. 

"TOM!" He heard his father yell from the living room. Carefully crawling out from under his desk he stood up on shaky legs. Slowly opening the door he slipped out closing it behind him. Tommy walked down the small hallway that his bedroom lay at the end of slipping around the shattered wine glass on the floor. 

"Y-yes father?" Tommy stuttered as he made his way to the living room. His father growled something quietly under his breath and Tommy gulped. "I-I'm sorry I didn't hear what you said- c-could you repeat that?"

"I WASN'T FUCKING TALKIN TO YOU YA LITTLE SHIT!" Tommy's father yelled before grabbing his wrist and dragging Tommy behind him. Tommy yelped slightly as he stumbled over some broken plate fragments. He stared fearfully up at his father as he was thrown to the floor in the kitchen. Wincing he gingerly held his wrist before looking back up at his father.

"D-do you need something?" He questioned trying desperately not to let the tears pricking at the edge of his vision spill down his cheeks. His father said nothing as he opened one of the kitchen drawers shuffling around a little.  

"Tom, you heard what your mother said right?" His father said quietly as he kept shuffling around the drawer.

"I-I heard her say 'Screw you I'm leaving,' and then I-I heard the door slam but that is it-" Tommy said looking up at his father hopefully, maybe he would be nice now that his mother was gone! They wouldn't be able to fight with each other so his father couldn't be mad at him anymore!

"Mhm, yes that is what she said isn't it?" his father's eyes seemed to sparkle as he found what he was looking for in the drawer. "You see... I'm still a little angry at your mother, and its not good to keep pent up anger right my boy?" Tommy's father chuckled staring at Tommy his eyes wide and twitching slightly.

"N-no I assume not..." Tommy muttered and suddenly fell quiet. His father's hand had come into view finally and his face whitened at the item clutched in it. "F-father why do you have a knife?" the 9 year old questioned looking up at his father in fear.

"Well... I need to take out my anger on something... you just happen to be the closest thing." His father laughed maniacally. Tommy let out a scream as the knife came charging towards him.

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All he could remember were the red and blue lights flashing, blood pooled around him as he stared at his arm unable to move. Tommy's arm was littered in scars, a particularly deep one running from his pointer finger all the way out of his line of vision. His body was numb as he saw himself lifted, it felt as if he was dead...

'Am I dead?' Tommy thought curiously, he wouldn't mind it. Not that his life meant anything to anyone in his life anymore. All his friends were probably fake, he had no real reason to live. Yet... he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to live. That life would get better. Those put into foster care were shipped off to a new server at 16. Maybe... just maybe that would be his new chance.

He saw his gaze beginning to black over... oh well. Time to rest now.