Lips of an Angel

"And don't ever think about getting me this angry again, or so help me Jack you'll be fucking sorry." Oli said, pushing Jack into the wall. The boy nods quickly, too scared, and too in pain to speak. "Good, now get out of my face." The British man throws Jack to the side, walking away as Jack scrambled to his feet, hurrying into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

With shaky legs, he makes his way to the sink resting his palms flat against the surface, fingers pointing outwards, away from each other. He couldn't help but just stare at his reflection, his eyes focused on the bruises that were already starting to form. He was thankful that his nose wasn't bleeding, or it'd be harder to breathe, but his lip started to spew more and more blood out. With a shake of his head, Jack reached for the faucet handle, causing warm water to flow out. He started to wash away the blood that had gotten onto his chin, and down his neck and then reached for a towel.

He walked out of the bathroom, and made his way to the kitchen to grab an ice pack. It sickened him how he was so use to this sort of routine, when he knew that he shouldn't be. The tears were slowly dying down and he rested the ice on his eye, knowing that if he didn't it'd be black and blue in the morning. He took a seat on the couch, because he knew that with Oli being home tonight he couldn't go sleep in the bedroom. Before he got ready to sleep, Jack pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sends a text to his best friends Rian, and Zack.
'Us 3, tomorrow night, go out for drinks?'
He knew that they wouldn't deny him the opportunity to get out of the house, which he was thankful for. Jack doesn't think he can spend another night with the man upstairs, but Jack also knows he couldn't get away from him either.