Fixed~PruCan

Chapter one

Everything was Broken.

I think that's a good way to start out this story.

I guess you could say I was quiet. I never really stood out, so I was almost invisible to them. Who I'm referring to, you might ask, is to my family. It was like they didn't even care about me.

I felt so alone, but maybe I should stay that way. I am broken, and I know that no one can fix me.

I've been through so much hell, so much pain, and even though I want to, I can't disappear. My country won't let me. The people are what keep me here. I have to stay. For them.

I guess I should introduce myself huh? I'm Matthew Williams, or "Mattie" to my brother Alfred, and to the rest of my family.

I'm sorry about the beginning of this story, but I needed you to know beforehand what I went through.

I can't say there will be a happy ending to this story, but I also can't say there won't be one at all either. Maybe I should start to when I was little.

I was created by my two fathers, Francis and Arthur, and soon after, my little brother Alfred was born. We were happy for the first couple of years, we were a real family.

But it went all downhill when I reached my teen years that Papa Arthur had a fight with Alfred. I was in my room with Papa Francis at the time. We were reading "The Ugly Duckling " (which I loved to read, even if I was sixteen at the time,) when I heard a bottle crash on the floor and Alfred screaming, "I WISH I WAS NEVER IN THIS FAMILY!"

To which Arthur replied, "WELL LEAVE YOU SPOILED LITTLE BRAT!" I then heard the front door open and slam with a shut.

I didn't realize I was crying until Papa Francis wiped away a stray tear on my cheek. " It's okay Mathieu," he said reassuringly, "Wait 'ere." He then proceeded to get up from my bed and leave the room.

I hugged my bear "Kumajiro" tightly, and brought my knees to my chest, and silently cried. I heard Francis go downstairs which connects to our living room and asked Arthur a simple question, "What in the 'ell was zhat?" he asked calmly.

Arthur replied, loudly of course , "Get off my case you wanker!"

I tip toed to the top of the stairs and listened intently. "Don't you dare speak to me like zhat!" shouted Francis. "YOU JUST LET OUR SON WALK OUT!" He screamed at Arthur. I wiped a few more tears and climbed down a few more steps.

Arthur yelled back, "I'm glad he's gone! HE WAS JUST A WASTE OF SPACE LIKE YOU!" He screamed and smashed another bottle on the floor.

I cried harder and covered my mouth. I couldn't believe what was happening. He was single handily tearing apart our family, and I couldn't do anything about it.

Papa Arthur then walked to the bottom of the stairs and looked up at me. My eyes widened and I turned and scrambled up the stairs to my room. "GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE BRAT!" He yelled at me and climbed up the stairs after me.

Thankfully, Papa Francis held him back long enough for me to reach my room and to lock the door behind me. I backed up against to the other side of my room and hit the wall. I slid down it and held my knees close to my chest and cried. I the heard Arthur screaming and banging outside my door while I cried harder.

"GET OUT HERE MATTHEW! GET THE HELL OUT HERE!" He screeched and banged on the door. I suddenly heard Francis yelling at Arthur and eventually he held him back.

"Arthur please! You're drunk!" He said as his attempts to quiet him failed horribly. I then heard a thump and a scream as I heard something tumble down the stairs. I screamed and covered my ears, as I heard the door open with a bang.

I looked up to see Papa Francis standing at the doorway with a worried expression as he came into my room and held me. I cried into his chest as he picked me up bridal style and carried me down the steps.

I looked up and saw Arthur passed out at the bottom of the stairs, and I cried even harder. Papa Francis hugged me closer and open the door quickly and run to his car. I remember taking one last look at the house and thinking that we wouldn't have to go back. But I was wrong. This was just the beginning of my never ending hellish life.