Mute (Kellic)

Chapter 1*

2 weeks later

I had moved from Phoenix, Arizona to San Diego, California mostly because of the bruises on my body. I was foolish enough to expose one of the bruises while in my previous gym class at my old school. When my father got the call from the school he was pissed, but he didn't do anything at school. No, he waited until I got home that evening.

He had beat me and eventually raped me that night. An unpleasant shiver and a sick feeling ran through my body at the thought of his rough hands on my body. I hated his guts, but I couldn't do a thing about it. I couldn't speak out against him. I had nowhere else to go. I didn't want to become an orphan, end up in foster care, or be known as that kid that got pity because of what their parent did to them. I had no other family members and my mother had died a few years ago.

I was stuck with my father for the rest of my teenage years. That was if I even made it out of my teenage years.

My father's deep, yet rough, voice brought me back to reality. He was at my bedroom door, speaking harshly to me. I didn't pay attention to what he said, mostly because I knew what he wanted me to do. Instead of listening to him, I got up out of bed and gathered my clothes for school. He had left by the time I headed for the bathroom to change.

I changed in the bathroom for reasons. The first one was because of the privacy. It was the only door of mine with a lock on it. He had disabled the lock of my bedroom door within the first few days of being in this house. Now it was just some door knob that couldn't lock. Second, I had to shower every morning and thirdly, my only 'friends' were in here. By friends, I meant my pills and blades.

I used the blades nearly every night and sometimes in the morning shower for school. The pills were for the nights when I was upset enough to use them. Nearly every breathing second of my life after my mother died was dark and clouded, but I managed to keep the demons at bay by using the blades. I hadn't used the pills for a while, I guess I was improving in some way. Or maybe it was because my father had been not as, well, himself since we moved here. He was abusive, but he was more lenient.

He is always like this when we move to new places, though. He'll usually go back to his abusive ways within the first two weeks; I'll be surprised if he lays off for another week. I was used to his abusive ways and I somehow convinced myself I deserved it to a degree. I was a awful son of his, always blamed for my mother's death on nights when my father's drunk enough. He also uses other filthy and harmful words that sting my self-consciousness.

I quickly showered and got dressed. Today I wore an Asking Alexandria hoodie, along with black skinny jeans that were meant for girls. They were the only kind of jeans that would fit my hips and ass well, and they hugged my legs just how I liked it. Guy jeans just didn't work out well for me, to be honest. I pulled on my TOMS before grabbing my backpack and placing my arms through the straps and let it rest on my back. I didn't have much in it, only the essentials; paper, notebooks, and pencils and pen. 

Ever so slowly I began to walk towards my school. My father was too lazy and too much of an alcoholic to even take me to school. Ten minutes later I had arrived at Albany High. It was larger than my last school, so I guessed it would be okay. I walked into the front doors, making my way to the office to get my class schedule and to find out where my locker was located. I bit my lip, glancing around like the lost boy I was.

I was stopped by a ginger that had these black nerdy glasses. He also had on a black shirt with a sleeveless black and white plaid button up shirt on top. He wore black skinny jeans just like me along with the classic black converse.

"You new, kid?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

I nodded, not daring to speak.

"Name's Matty Mullins." he beamed while he held his hand out for me to shake. I hesitantly took his hand and shook it then recoiled my hand after a few seconds.