Wounded Popular Boy

Last Night

Daniel's pov

I woke up on my hard mattress still dizzy from last nights... events...
I had come home from school after track practice a little later than usual because coach made us run laps. As soon as I got home I simply stood in the driveway preparing myself for what was to come. Every day was the same no matter what I said or did. Today was no exception.

My father is 6 foot 7, built like a lumberjack and drinks himself silly. His name is Joe but everyone calls him Mr Martin or in my case Father. He had piercing grey, practically black eyes and greasy brown hair. A hard man to get along with, even harder to please. This of course was all made worse when my mum left him saying the exact words, 'I can't love you anymore.' yeah, thanks mum, you left me with a psycho.

I walked through the door with my head held low and eyes staring at the ground silently praying that he wouldn't notice me. My father was sat on the worn couch staring at our ancient TV chugging down a beer which definitely wasn't his first, second, third or fourth of the day so far. As quietly as possible I avoided the creaking floor boards to make it to the stairs unnoticed.

Right as I made it to the bottom step at the foot of the staircase I felt a hand tightly grip my shoulder. My heart practically stopped right then and there, I knew I was in for it. He threw me back causing me to hit my head on the rough wooden floor. Still dazed I watched as he towered over me spitting abuse in my face.

"You good for nothing little twerp." he punched me forcefully in my stomach making me writh in pain as his rings dug into my skin.

Three more punches met my torso before he took a step back. He held out a hand to help me up, a glimmer of hope shone through the pain in my eyes. I reached out to take, I should have known better but in that moment I didn't care. Just before our hands met I noticed he had one hand hidden behind his back, he noticed my stares at his arm. He threw his fisted hand at my arm creating a deep slash due to his many rings. Then kicked my side for good measure before walking away, swigging his beer and passing out on the couch.

Completely winded I pulled myself up off of the floor, every movement sent shooting pains through my body. I rubbed the back of my head to feel it wet and sticky with blood. I started to see red stains appear on my shirt as the blood soaked through, shivers ran down my spine as I felt blood dripping down my kneck. No matter how many times he beat me I never got used to the pain, the feeling of being totally defenseless.

As I clung to the banister I focused all of my attention on making it up to my room without passing out. I took it one step at a time and hauled my bleeding body and broken spirit to the top of the stairs. Barely able to stay stood up I managed to make it to my room by sliding along the wall. I held the door handle and held it down, shoving it open to stop it from sticking.

I staggered in and fell straight onto my mattress which was covered in dry blood stains and a ratty old blanket. That was the last thing I remembered before waking up to the sound of my alarm at 6:30am.

I rolled over slightly landing on the cold floor with my blanket wrapped around me. Not bothering to wollow in my self pity I picked myself up and went into the bathroom. I stripped off my blood stained clothes and stepped into the shower as the freezing water rained down. After my uncomfortable shower I wrapped a towel around my waist and looked in the mirror seeing last night's cuts and bruises added to that of previous days. Each cut would scare as it had every other time, each bruise would stay tender for days but by then I would have new pain to mask it.

While walking back to my room along the hall I heard Father snoring loudly from the couch downstairs. After chucking my clothes into the laundry basket I slipped on a grey long sleeved shirt, dark blue jeans and black trainers. Then grabbed my school bag and ran out of the house all the way to school only slowing down once I got through the gates.