Wake Me Up

*Trigger Warning Abuse*

“Well, well, well. Look what shit head decided to come home,” My father says, standing off to the side. He shouldn’t be smiling, no a normal parent would look disappointed in a situation like this, but there it is. Wordlessly he moves closer to me, backing me against the wall. I begin opening and closing my mouth, gasping for something to say.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m really sorry dad,” I try to say loudly, though it comes out as no more than a whisper. He smirks at me, moving even closer. I take another step back. My head hits the door lightly, my back now firmly presses against it. My father puts both arms on either side of my head, using our body differences to intimidate. The action shouldn’t intimidate me, he’s done it a million times before, he’s my father, he should love me and I am no longer a child.

It still works.

“Do you think you’re apologies mean anything to me?” he says, lowly. He pushes his face closer to mine, putting us at eye level. I avert my gaze, but I’m not sure if it’s to show him submission or if it’s that I can’t meet his disgusting eyes. I hate the way they look at me, like I’m a punching bag. As if I were born specifically to meet his needs.

“No, sir,” I say. I hadn’t made the mistake of leaving out the “sir” since I was a small child. He had beaten the reaction out of me and I had the scars to prove it. He shakes his head at me.

“No, they don’t. So why bother?” He says. This time his fingers find my chin, gripping hard as he yanks it up, forcing me to look at him. “Huh? Why waste your breathe? Why force me to listen to that whiny, shriveling voice if you know that I don’t care?” I’m not sure if he actually wants me to answer. Sometimes I think that he plans out these little speeches, he likes presenting himself before he starts. Me saying the wrong thing will mess that up and anger him further. I stay quiet.

“Answer me,” he growls. His grip on my jaw tightens, pushing inwards so tightly I’m sure it could leave bruises. I meet his eyes as my mouth opens, though I don’t remember telling it to.

“I-I don’t know,” I whisper.

“You don’t know?” he yells, pulling my head forward and slamming it back against the door. I can hear it pound in my head. I squeeze my eyes shut and think about where I was this morning. They’re house was nice and warm; they were nice and warm. Maybe I shouldn’t have come home.

“So you waste my time for nothing,” he says, “Like I’m nothing!” He throws me sideways, I land hard on the ground. He kicks me in the stomach and I can feel how all of the air leave me body. I gasp in breaths, trying in vain to fill my lungs.

“No, no it’s not like that,” I weeze out. Slowly I pull my arm up, using it to cover my head. I’d rather have a broken arm than brain damage.

“And you’re calling me a liar,” With that he kicks me as hard as he can, grunting at he does so. I cry out, clenching my body together. He laughs and kicks me again, his toe meeting with my hip. I bite my lip so hard it starts to bleed. “Look at how pathetic you are. You can’t even fight back. What kind of child am I raising?” This time he kicks me in the ribs, and maybe I’m imagining things, but I swear I heard something crack. Suddenly the kicks stop, I look up at him.

“You’re lucky I have shit to do today, otherwise you would have gotten the punishment you deserve,” With that he grabs his phone and keys from the counter and walks out the door. I’ve never understood him, how can he do this? How can he go from beating his son to doing business calmly, as if nothing happened.

I lay on the floor for a minute, regaining my strength. Five seconds of being weak. I give myself five seconds to lay here before I have to get up. Five. Four. Three. Two.

One.

I stand up on shaking legs, limping my way down the hall. I walk into the bathroom and slowly take my clothes off. I turn the shower on and wait for the water to heat up. I make my way back to the mirror, assessing damage. Large bruises are beginning to form on my left hip and rib. My jaw bones have a subtle blue tint to the skin. It’s the only bruise that can’t be covered by clothes.

So not that bad.

I make my way into the shower, trying not to slip. The water is warm and relaxes me. For a minute I just let it run over my back, closing my eyes as it unties my muscles. I nearly have to convince myself to grab the shampoo bottle and work the liquid through my hair. I wait for it to be sufficiently soapy before washing it out. I stand under the water until it runs cold. When I get out I grab a towel and dry myself, taking great care around the hurt areas.

My room is still in boxes; I’ve been too lazy to unpack. I grab one labeled clothes and put on the first things I find; a pair of jeans and a long sleeved striped t shirt. I know it’ll hurt to walk around, and I might get in trouble, but I can’t stand to stay in this house. I walk to the door and make my way outside. I’m still new to the neighborhood, so I don’t know my way around. Suddenly, I wish I’d just stayed at Vic’s. I don’t even know how to get back there, but anything is better than my house. I walk through the streets, making my way through the twisted walkways. After about fifteen minutes of walking I see someone on the other side of the road. The closer I get the more familiar he looks.

Vic.

“Kellin?” he calls out. I don’t have the chance to say anything before he’s makes his way across the street. Once he places himself in front of me a regret not covering the bruises on my chin. Instead, I look at his hair. I didn’t realize how, well, pretty it was this morning. It looked so soft, perfect for running my fingers through. Wait, what? “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, swallowing hard. His eyebrows knit together as he cocks his head to the side. Slowly, he reaches his hand out to cup my face, turning it to the side. As soon as I realize what he’s doing I yank my face away, looking down.

“What happened to your face?” he asks. He reaches up again, this time to turn my face up and gently move hair out of my face. He sighs when I still don’t meet his eyes. His hand slowly traces it’s way down my neck and arm until it reaches my hand, where he tangles our finger together. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, letting him pull me down the street. He laughs and tugs faster. I ignore the pain in my side, better to suffer through it than draw attention to it. Too many questions.

“My house, duh,” he says. I let him drag me there, paying attention to his street sign. When we get to his driveway he starts to sing to himself, I listen and squeeze his hand lightly. The song feels eerily familiar; I know it but I don’t. My eyebrows knit together as I try to think of what song this was.

“Vic, that song is amazing, who is it by?”

“Um...me?” he says, though it comes out as more of a question, “MIke and I are kind of in a band with two of our other friends. I sing and play guitar,” he whispers.

“Do you write all your songs?” I ask. I can feel a giddy swirl begin to form in the pit of my stomach.

“Yeah, why?”

“Do you have a CD of your music?” I ask, He smiles and nods.

“Yeah, of course. Do you want to hear it?” he asks, staring at me. I smile wide at him.

“Were you playing it in your car last night?” he still looks confused but nods anyways.

“Yeah, Kells, but why are you-” before he can finish the question I lean forward and place a kiss on his lips. I pull back quickly though, staring wide eyed at Vic.

“I-I’m sorry, I just, you’re um, you’re really good. Forget I did that,” I honestly don’t know what came over me; I’m not usually this...outgoing? Comfortable? I mean he’s attractive but, I don’t know him; I don’t want to be with him like that.[\i]

“Um okay, come on,” he says. I can’t tell what he’s thinking but I’m sure it’s not good. He drags me through the front door. As soon as we are I see Mike, walking down the stairs in only his boxers, shoving a handful of something in his mouth. I let out a small laugh while Vic just sighs.

“Really Mike?” he asks. Mike doesn’t seem swayed by our presence, just shrugs.

“Hey Kellin,” he says, through the food. He looks like he’s about to walk away but does a double take, looking at our hands. “Wow, did Vic finally grow a pair and ask someone out?”

“Shut up, Mike,” Vic mutters. I look over to see his cheeks reddening, his grasp on my hand tightens.

“All I’m saying is-”

“I don’t see you going over to Tony’s and telling him-”

“We do not need to discuss this in front of company Victor,” Mike shouts. Vic just laughs and then looks over at me, squinting his eyes a bit.

“I don’t think Kellin counts as company anymore, I think he’ll be here a lot,” he says, laughing again, “Besides, he’ll find out eventually.” Mike groans, running back up the stairs.

“What was all that about?” I ask, laughing at their odd exchange.

“I’ll tell you later. Do you want to go to my room? You can lay down for a bit, you look really tired,” he says, and as if on cue I yawn. I didn’t realize how tired I was until now.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I say. When we get to his room he immediately pushes me towards his bed.

“You can sleep here,” he says. I kick my shoes off and lay down a bit, watching him. He turns a bit, looking towards the door and then back at me.

“You’re going to stay right?” I ask. He smiles and puts a movie on before crawling into the bed with me. There’s space in between us, a definite gap separating us. I turn on my side, closing my eyes. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was Vic wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me a little closer to him.