The Cheap Bouquet

Vic's POV

I refused to go to school. I had locked myself in my room, only coming out to go to the bathroom and for water. I hadn't eaten in almost a week, and I didn't care. My dad barely ever came home, and when he did, he tried taking his anger out on me by hitting. I would lock the door so he couldn't get to me. Finally he gave up and left, probably going to work or the bar. I had no idea where Mike went, but I needed him. Mike and I were close, him being gone wasn't helping much. I needed Jaime too, but I hadn't talked to him in a week, so I didn't think he cared. I would've gone to my mom, but I had no idea where she was at.

I looked down at my wrist, they looked disgusting. There were so many scars, it looked like a battlefield, and so far, I was losing. I looked in the mirror and cringed at my reflection. My hair was greasy and messy, I had deep bags underneath my eyes, I was pale, and I was even more skinny from not eating. I groaned, why hadn't I just killed myself already?

I heard the door open, and someone shouted my name. I opened my bedroom door a crack and looked out. I saw it was Mike, who was heading towards me. He had no emotion on his face. I slowly opened the door.

"W-what do you want?" I asked nervously.

He glared at me. "You look like fucking shit." He bluntly put. "But guess fucking what?" Mike started walking towards me. I started walking backwards, until I was cornered against the wall.

"W-what?" I asked.

"Dad's been doing nothing but getting wasted, mom might be moving out of state, and your ruining my fucking life! All of this is your fault!" He screamed.

"I-I know." I said, tears filling my eyes.

"Don't fucking cry!" Mike said, his face filled with hate. He punched me hard in the stomach, and kept punching me. I didn't fight back. Even if I had wanted too, I was to weak. Finally Mike stopped, leaving me on the floor bloody and bruised. Everything hurt.

"You deserved to be beaten by dad." Mike said. His words stung like acid. He gave me one last dirty look and turned to leave.

"I'm sorry Mike." I groaned. "I know this is all of my fault, and... and I deserve all of this." Tears started filling my eyes. I watched Mike stop walking, as if he was considering turning back around, but then continued walking, leaving out of the front door.

I couldn't do this anymore. There was nothing good for me here, saying I wanted to die was an understatement. I needed too. I was useless, there was nothing good for me here. Mike was my brother, he wasn't suppose to hate me! And no matter how much he hurt me, I still loved him. I was physically attached to him, he had helped me so much. I wish he'd understand I didn't mean to do any of this, I didn't think mom would leave. I wanted her to come back just as much as he did.

I forced myself to sit up. I didn't want to live anymore, I was so sick of everything. I carefully stood up, and limped to my dad's room. I knew he had a gun somewhere. I finally found one in his drawer. I checked to make sure the gun had some ammo, and was glad to see it was fully loaded. With shaky hands, I aimed the gun at in the middle of my forehead. I couldn't help but glance in the mirror. I disgusted myself. I closed my eyes, took my last breath, and pulled the trigger.
*
"Vic, wake up!" My eyes slowly opened, and the first thing I felt was pain. I groaned, and saw I was still in my house, sprawled out on the hallway floor. Jaime was holding me, a concern look on his face.

"W-what happened?"

"Mike came and beat the shit out of you, and you passed out from the pain." Jaime explained.

I groaned. "So I'm not really dead?"

I gave him a concerned look, but shook my head no. Vic started crying.

Jaime's POV

I held Vic as he sobbed. I rubbed as back, and gently swayed him back and forth. Vic was having suicidal thoughts, great. I didn't want him to kill himself like my dad had. I could barely get over my dad and little brother's death, I don't know what I would do with myself if Vic died.

I gently took Vic's wrist and saw tons of cuts. I kissed every single one of them, and kissed the scars on his other wrist too.

"Vic, your gonna stay with me, okay?" I said calmly.

He pulled away from me. "W-why?"

"I want to make sure your alright, you living with me will make me feel a little better." I said, glancing down at his wrists. "Go pack up your things, okay?" Vic nodded and walked into his room. I pulled out my phone and called my mom.

"Hello?" She said.

"Mama, is it okay if Vic stays with us for a while? He's having some family issues."

"Well of course!" She exclaimed. "Vic is always welcome at our house. The house is a mess though!" I listened to her ramble on about mom stuff, before she finally said she had to get back to work and hung up.

"I'm uh, I'm ready." Vic said, holding a duffel bag. I couldn't help but check him out. He looked terrible, his figure told me he had stopped eating because he was almost as skinny as a twig, his messy hair said he had stopped taking care of himself, the deep bags under his eyes said he hadn't slept in a while, his wrists practically screamed 'I'm broken!', and the broken look in his eyes proved all of those things were true. I knew it would take a lot, but I swear on my life that I was going to fix Victor Vincent Fuentes.