Heart Attack Waiting to Happen

Chapter 7: Home Sweet Hole

Oli's P.O.V

I pull my key out of the door slowly before stepping into my house and closing the front door as quietly as possible. Almost certain the coast is clear, I creep towards the staircase but before I could reach the first step my father appeared.

“Where have you been boy?” His voice was blunt and stern.

The sudden fear which made my blood run cold just at the sound of his voice. He startled me, making me jump with fright.

“I…I…I thought it was best i..i..if I stayed out your way.” I stuttered as my nerves got the better of me.

He let out a mean laugh.

“Where were you?! You better not been out making trouble again, you hear me!” He shouted, stepping closer towards me.

I flinched back against the wall as I waited for his hand, but there was no blow.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you Oliver!” He grabbed the hood on Josh’s hoodie I was wearing and began shaking me violently until I answered him.

“I stayed at a friend’s house!” I cried out.

“Friends? You don’t have any friends.” My father mocked, pointing out the obvious.

I could smell the alcohol on his breath, as his face lingered over mine. I couldn’t remember the last time he was sober. It’s been like this for years, same old story, my father would drink his life away and drown his sorrows at the bottom of every bottle. His entertainment however, was me, his personal punching bag which he absolute loved beating the shit out of.

“Get out of my site Oliver!” he yells, throwing me into the stairs and making some sound of disgust as he walked back into the living room.

I whimper, Ignoring the throbbing pain coming from my left elbow, I climbed up the stairs to my room as fast as I could, hoping he wouldn't come after me again.

I slammed my door shut and quickly locked it before leaning my back against it and sliding down to the floor, trying to take deep breaths in to calm myself down. Its okay I told myself as I sniffed back the tears which were threatening to fall, I lift up my arm and began rubbing my elbow, it was a little sore, and it’ll simply just turn into another bruise in a few hours to. No big deal.

This was nothing compared to what I’m used to. He was in a ‘nice’ mood today and he was generous enough to let me get away with only a sore elbow this time.

I felt like shit. I was desperate to brush my teeth and have a shower.

I took a deep breath in before plucking up the courage to leave my room again.

I rushed to grab a towel from the cupboard and headed straight to the bathroom, before I did anything to irritate my father and make him come up here after me… I needed to clear my head.

I turned the shower on while I brushed my teeth, waiting for the water to turn warm. As I undressed myself, I turned and looked into the cracked bathroom mirror; my eyes raking over every inched of my body, I looked disgusting.

The reason for the smashed mirror was my fault, I hated looking at myself, I couldn't feel anymore revolting. I had several cuts and bruises which stained and over powered my whole body, along side the hideous bones which poked out of my horrid pale skin almost all over my body.

Turning away in disgust of my own reflection, I stepped into the shower and finally allowed myself to relax under the water.
This is what I needed, to get away from the world for just a moment and just forget about everything.

I ducked my head and let the hot water run down my repulsive skinny tattooed body. My mind had other ideas today, instead of letting me forget everything; the memories of last night flooded my mind.

Josh.

I sighed in defeat as I allowed my mind to let him in and let the events of last night of which I remember play through.

He stuck by my side the whole night, even when I was a complete dick to him and told him to leave me alone, he stayed. He even slept next to me… Oh Josh.

His beautiful smile and kindness drove me crazy, I can’t handle them, I don’t understand how someone can be so gentle and caring about life and everyone in it. I hated how he was so carefree and willing to let anyone around him in, he has no fucking idea about the cruelty of life, he doesn’t have a clue and yet he smiles at me like I’m the centre of his universe or something.

I hated it but yet I feel like I need him. His smile seemed to be getting me through the day lately.

I have no idea why I feel like I need him, it’s absurd. No one has ever showed an interest in me before, well not in a very long time anyway and now I have this annoying too happy kid who won’t leave me alone. For some strange reason he cares. He cares about me, he actually wants to be my friend. What am I suppose to do? Let him in, let him learn who I am and watch him leave?

I can’t. I can’t let him in. I can’t let him be my friend, I’ll ruin him. He’ll leave. It won’t work. I’m too messed up to have anyone close to me.
It's been so long, I don’t remember how to let people in anymore…

I’m worthless, he doesn’t want anything to do with me and I won’t allow him too but… it’s Josh. Why have I suddenly started to feel like this towards him? It doesn’t make sense! I don't even know him and I'm so defensive and I'm so adamant to protect from myself.

My mind was a mess and all over the place, I couldn’t escape thoughts which haunted me and out of no where, when I thought my brain was frying enough, the flashbacks of Josh and Amy entered my mind.

The memory made me angry, very angry.

If I didn’t walk in on them when I did, they would have ended up kissing. Just like last time, just like before, exactly what he did.

You know, like when you start to like someone, you let them in, you let them get close, you start to feel something for them… then bang. Just like that, a foolish blonde comes along and bat their pretty eye lashes at them and before you know, they both have they’re lips glued to each others faces and automatically become joint to hip.

And you, well, you’re simply cast to the side and forgotten because you basically were nothing to them in the first place... you never were.

The memory made me feel sick to my stomach and angry enough to punch one of the mouldy cracked bathroom tiles in front of me. My fist pounded at the tile three times before I finally gave up and lent my head against the tiles and sobbed in frustration. What was happening to me?

I pulled my face away from the wall and notice I had broken one of the tiles in a moment of anger. Little specks of blood appeared on the side of my hand from the sudden out burst but nothing a little water can't wash away.

There was a sudden loud knock on the door which brought me back to reality and my body trembling with fear.

“Oliver!” my father cursed through the door.

He pounded on the door several times not giving me the chance to answer him.

“What the fuck are you doing in there? Get the fuck out; I need to use the bathroom!” He shouted through the door, shaking the handle violently.

“Hang on!” I shouted out to him.

Panicking to get out of the shower as fast as I could, I slipped on the wet floor but manage to save myself from falling. I was wasting time, I knew my father would be furious by the time I opened the door so I quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist.

Shit. I can’t let my dad see my tattoos, he’s seen most of them already but he’ll just mock me or find them as an excuse to hit me and I was trying everything I could to avoid his abuse today.

I scrambled through the dirty clothes on the floor and threw on Josh’s hoodie.

As I unlocked the bathroom door with trembling hands my dad kicked it open and charged his way in.

He was raging mad. He charged at me, grabbing my jaw and forcefully slamming my face up against the cracked bathroom mirror causing a whimper fall from my lips.

“When I tell you to open the door, you open it!” He growls.

I was trembling with fear, praying to god that he wouldn’t hit me. But I knew all to well that God wouldn’t help me.

“Well Oliver?!” he demands.

“Y-yes dad.” I stuttered as my nerves got the better of me again, I was terrified to stand up to him in fear of what would happen to me if I ever did.

“Get out!” He pushed me aside with such force, I slipped and hit my face on the sink.

“Fuck!” I cried out, my eyes watering and my vision was slightly blurred.

I put my hand to my face and pulled it away, revealing the blood which now covered the palm of my hand. I was shaking, a shaky breath escaped my lips.

“You’re so weak Oliver!” My father yelled causing me to flinch and that was enough for me to get the hell out of here now before he really decided to do some damage to me.

Holding my hand to my face, I ran to my bedroom locking door behind me.

I fell to my knees by the foot of my bed, holding onto a handful of my duvet as I let go and cried out in pain. My wet hair soaked the sheets but I didn’t care, I didn’t care about anything anymore.

“Fuck.” I cried.

The pain was something else. I got up to find some tissue to help stop the bleeding, as well as to take a look in the mirror to see how bad the damage was.

I removed the tissue; my eyebrow was cut deep, swelling red, blood dripping down the side of my face, already a hint of a bruise forming around the top of my eye.

It kind of matched the cut below it now. My father lost his temper a few days ago and threw a broken beer bottle at me and I luckily got away with only a cut on my face.

Well that’s going to turn into a full black eye tomorrow. That’s the last thing I need, people staring at me and asking questions they have no business on asking.

Fuck this.

I curled up on my bed and cried into my pillow. Wrapping my arms around myself, letting the pain take over me like the weak human I am.

My face was buried in the hood of Josh’s hoodie, his scent over powering my unclean sheets. I found the smell comforting.

It was the tiniest bit of comfort I have felt in a very long time... and in a hell hole like this, I needed every bit of comfort I could get to bare a night here.

I didn’t move for the rest of the day, what was the point in moving? If I moved, dad would only take his drunken state out on me. I was the blame for everything. So I locked myself away...every night. Dad would kick in my door every now and again, pissed out his head, wanting to make himself feel better by hurting me.

I hated it here, but it was all I had.

I cry myself to sleep mostly every night... well, I don't really sleep at all, you can't in this place.

Dad was always awake, and always cursing or wrecking the place or banging at my door. I had to keep my wits about... always sleeping with one eye open.

All I had was a couple of blades, helping me get through every night, trying to escape the nightmares… but sometimes even the blades weren’t enough to keep them away. They were more of a pain relief from this hell hole.

One, Two, Three... the blade didn't seem to stop ripping my skin open, I tried my best to avoid cutting over my tattoos, but when things are this fucked up I was past caring, as long as they did their job that all that mattered. The only reason I got my arms tattooed was to hide my scars in the first place and they aren’t exactly doing a very good job.

I was a worthless nobody which my father made sure to tell me everyday, I was just a big mistake... I’m just a would've been, could've been, should've been and never was and never ever will be.

I’m nothing. Nothing!

I dug the blade deeper into my skin for the sixth time, pulling the blade from the bloody flesh and ready to go in for the seventh time, until Josh fluttered across my mind. Those diamond blue eyes, that breath taking smile, the soft kindness of his heart...

I dropped the blade from my hand as the tears began to roll down my cheeks as I began to sob harder to myself.

He was worried about me. Nobody has ever worried about me before... the feeling was unsettling but at the same time a kind of relief.

I looked down at my freshly cut up arm through teary eyes and suddenly began to feel guilty about the cuts and scars for the first time in my life.

What if Josh saw them? I thought he did this morning but I was lucky to get myself out of there before he did see them.

What would he have thought if he did see them? Most probably think I’m crazy and never talk to me again. Why would anyone want to be friends with someone who harms themselves? Someone who’s broken in every way possible.

The thought began tearing my mind apart, as much as I didn't understand why he cared and worried about me and no matter how much I told him to leave me alone... I’m kind of glad that he’s here.

I pulled down the sleeves of Josh's hoodie, hissing loudly at the material rubbing against the fresh cuts.
The blood bled through the grey material, but no matter, only I would see them.

I lifted up the hood and breathed in Josh's scent again, getting some sort of comfort as I finally decided to try to lay down to sleep.
He was with me last night and I slept okay... hopefully the scent on his hoodie could comfort me enough to help me sleep through tonight.