One-Shots

Sleep

*Trigger warning: Contains scenes of self-harm, strong language, and abuse.

"You worthless piece of shit!" I hear him scream as his fist connects with my jaw, The force of the blow causes me to stumble and fall to the ground.

"Get up!" He yells. I continue lying there with my jaw throbbing. the pain radiating throughout my head as the taste of blood starts to fill my mouth.

"I said get up, you asshole!" A shoe connects with my ribs, causing me to double over. He begins kicking me repeatedly with each blow sending me into a state of numbness.

I deserve this pain.

He finally stops and the pain comes back with an excruciating force, bringing tears to my eyes. The man known as my father crouches down in front of me, looking at me with dead eyes, no emotion. I can feel his breath on my face and it reeks of alcohol. He caresses my face with his rough hand before bringing it back and slapping me hard.

"You are not my child, you are an abomination. I will not have a faggot as a son. Do you hear me? He sneers.

I slowly nod my head trying to not let the tears fall from my eyes. He stands and kicks me in the stomach one last time before leaving me alone as if I was worthless as a piece of trash on the side of the street. My body aches as I proceed to get onto my hands and knees, trying to stand up. I manage to walk a few steps before collapsing on the ground at the foot of the stairs. Blood and saliva dripping out my mouth, staining the floor underneath me. I begin to make my way up the stairs slowly, crawling with every fibre of my being resisting.

The journey to the bathroom is excruciating with me wincing with every slight movement of my body. I close the door and lock it behind me, wanting to be alone. I struggle pulling myself up, using the edge of the bathroom counter as leverage. The sight in the mirror before me is one that I don't recognise. A busted lip, black eye, sunken cheeks and that's just a small portion of it. I walk over to the shower and turn on the water, letting it warm up.

I begin to strip off my clothes with great difficulty but I manage to do it. A large purple bruise is beginning to form on my ribs and I wince in pain as I brush my fingers across it. The ribs are visible due to my skinny frame and I grimace at the sight of them. "I'm fat!" is all that runs through my mind as I look at my body. I walk over to the counter and open the drawer beside the sink. My hands graze objects as I rummage through the door trying to find what I am looking for.

A razor blade.

I pick up the blade and twirled it in my fingers, leaving small little cuts. The pain is nowhere near as painful as what I am feeling on the inside. My wrists are riddled with scars, old and new. The blade run across my skin, stinging as the blood begins to flow, running down my hand and dripping onto the floor. The feeling of relief begins to flourish as pain begins to leave my body, causing me to release the breath that I didn't realise that I was holding in.

I reach down and pull out my phone from my jeans, typing in the password and unlocking it. The background is of the one person that I care about in this world, Harry. No one else matters to me because all the people I care about leave eventually like my mum did when I was little. I was really close with my mum and one day, when I came home from school, she wasn't there.

I ran around the house looking for her and all I found was my dad with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

"Where's Mum?" My dad looked at me with sad eyes, as if he had been crying.

"She left."

"What do you mean "she left"?" I ask him

"Meaning that she's gone, bye-bye, out of our fucking lives!" He yells at me, bringing tears to my eyes.