The Cheap Bouquet

Jaime's POV

It was a week later, and Vic and I were sitting on the couch, watching TV. I wasn't really paying attention to what was happening though. When a commercial break came on, Vic turned to me.

"Where did you go when you left?" Vic asked.

I wanted to keep it a secret. "No where." I answered. I looked back at the TV, but I could feel Vic's eyes staring at me. I finally looked at him, and I was right.

"Why won't you tell me?" Vic whined. He grabbed my arm and started shaking it. He stopped after a minute. "There's someone else, isn't there?"

"What? No!" I exclaimed.

"You just left to be with them, didn't you?!" Vic shouted. He started to get up, but I grabbed his wrist.

"Vic, there isn't anyone else, I just don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Jaime, please tell me!" Vic begged, staring into my eyes. He looked broken, and I couldn't stand to see him like this, so finally I gave in and told him.

"Well, my father had an old log cabin, and I decided to go up there. I made some quick money by doing small tasks. It also helped organize my thoughts. Sure I'm still upset since there dead, but I finally came to terms that they were in a better place, and that it wasn't my fault."

"Well, I'm glad you feel better." Vic said. I looked into his eyes, his once warm and bright eyes were now cold and emotionless.

"Vic, you seem so sad lately." I said, letting go of his wrist. We sat back down on the couch, and I took his hands in mine. "Is everything okay?"

Vic just shrugged. "I just, I can't believe you left. I feel like you didn't care about me, and still don't. And I'm just having a lot of family drama at the moment."

I opened my mouth to say something when the front door swung open. Vic's parents came in. They gave a dirty look at me.

"Out." They demanded. I got up and left.

Vic's POV

I watched as Jaime left. Once he was completely out, my dad punched me hard in the stomach. I didn't cry out in pain, instead I took it like a man.

"What the fuck did we tell you! We don't want the faggot here!" My dad shouted. Lately my parents have been home a lot more lately, and whenever I did something they didn't like, they would hit me.

"I'm sorry papa." I murmured.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it!" He shouted, slapping me. I stood up and started walking to my room. "I'm done with you!" He screamed. I ignored him and went into my room, slamming and locking the door behind me.

I needed to cut again. I had nothing to cut with though. I sat down, taking deep breaths. I was shaking, ready to cry. Ever since Jaime had left, things were going terrible. Jaime had made my anxieties worse, and my parents hitting me didn't help much.

"Hurting Vic isn't going to help anything!" I could hear my mom scream at my father.

"Shut up!" He shouted back. I heard a loud slam, and then loud sobs.

"That's it, I'm fucking leaving!" My mother screamed. I heard footsteps, and then a loud slam. I held my head in my hands, if I wasn't such a fuck up, none of this would be happening. This was the first time I had ever heard them fight. 10 minutes later, I heard knocking at my door.

"Vic, please open up." It was my mother's voice. I opened the door and saw it wasn't just my mother, but Mike was there too.

"Vic, I'm leaving. Are you coming?" She said.

"Mom, don't!" Mike said. I could see tears fill his eyes, the first time I ever saw Mike cry. "You and dad need to be together. Please stay."

"Mike, I'm done with your father's shit. You're more than welcome to come with me, but I_ just can't do this anymore. Your father has been abusing me for too long, and I'm sick of it. And I'm not letting him lay a finger on Vic anymore."

"Mama! Please, papa can stop!" Mike shouted. Tears were now pouring out of his eyes, I knew Mike and papa were close and he wouldn't leave. I didn't want our father to hurt Mike though.

"I-I'll stay." I muttered. My mother just nodded and walked out of my room, Mike following her, begging and pleading to stay. Tears started filling my eyes, this was all my fault. Finally, I heard the front door slam shut. Mike came back in my room.

"This is all of your fault!" Mike screamed.

I stood up. "You don't think I know that!" I shouted.

"You didn't even try to stop mom." Mike said, a disgusted look in his eyes. "Why the fuck didn't you just go with her?! No one fucking wants you here."

It hurt that he said that, but I tried pushing it away. "I'm protecting you, Mike. Trust me, you'll thank me later." Mike left, but then came back. He threw something at me, but I caught in my hand. It was a key.

"Go cut yourself some more, you fucking emo faggot!" Mike shouted. "I don't fucking care anymore. You know where the knives are, do it and fucking die." Mike left, and I could hear the front door slam shut. He must've left to go to Frenchi's house. I looked around the house, making sure I was alone. When I knew I was, I went back into the kitchen and found the knives. I pulled the sharpest one out and started cutting away at my wrist.

"This is all of your fault." I muttered as I cut. "If you just took papa's hitting like a man, mama would still be here. If you weren't such a fuck up, she'd still be here. And you didn't even try and stop her. Now Mike fucking hates you, and so does papa. And I bet mama does too. And Jaime doesn't care about you, that's why he left." I was sobbing, and I saw I had 13 fresh cuts on my wrist.

I put the knife back and locked myself in my room. I just wanted to die, was that so fucking bad? I sighed. "Why aren't I good enough?"