Promises ||Dreamnotfound/Geam||

06- Enough.

《Tws:》talk of being high and drunk, abuse, police, smoking, hospitals, similar themes :D

[George's pov:]

It had all turned to hell since last night. My dad got high and drunk and threw many things at me. I didn't even know what to do. I just let it happen. Im in so much fucking pain as my alarm goes off, ringing through my poor ears.

I sniffled as i pressed the alarm off. I got out of bed, placing my feet on the warm carpet, instantly falling over as my legs gave way.

"Shit." I mumbled as i stood back up, gaining control. I walked to my wardrobe, shoving sweatpants and a hoodie on with struggle. I wasn't going to school. I would simply just skive.

I pulled my hold up, ignoring the sweating hot weather. I grabbed my cigarettes, money, lighter, and phone before shovinv them all in my pockets.

I ran downstairs, past my unconscious father, before rushing outside. I walked as my legs ached below me. Slowly, i made it to the skatepark. I sat on a bench and began smoking and going on my phone. The sweet smoke entered and left my lungs as i inhaled.

I heard kids talking and saw people in my school walking towards the building. I ignored all of them, focusing on one thing and one thing only, cigarettes.

I smoked them, one after another, feeling the few minute high before back to normal. I took the last one out the broken box and threw the box on the floor, walking to the shop.

I walked in, and the same guy was there, i sighed as i walked round and grabbed three packs, i layed them on the desk as he inspected them.
"23.67 quid." He mumbled as i grabbed out the money i had stolen from my dad.

I placed it on the table and took the packets as he looked me up and down.

"Yknow kid, it won't help." He said with a half sympathetic look on his face, his still emotionless face remained, however.

"Dont care." I mumbled and went to leave.

"My name is Schlatt. Yours?" He asks as i turn back around.

"George, now fuck off im not going to quit." I grumbled as i went to the door.

"Good luck, kid, honest." He said before i left, going back to the skatepark.

I sat down, legs drooping into the bowl as i smoked again. I couldn't do it anymore. Id gone past my limit years ago. I'd had enough.

I grabbed my two packets, which remained, and then quickly walked home.

I slammed open the door and saw my dad groggily stood there.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE." He yelled, walking over as i shut the door. I couldn't respond. I felt like my breath had been taken away.

1 smack.

3 punches.

10 kicks.

5 punches.

Repeat.

He didn't stop for a whole hour. My limbs were numb, blood was covering my scars, bruises were pasted on top of old ones, yet i stood still. It wasn't worth it.

I wasn't worth it.

The pain was so much i thought my plan might've worked. Maybe he would finally end my life.

It's such a shitty way to go out but better than living.

And then he grabbed a knife off the side.

"POLICE OPEN UP."