HeartBreak (Mello x Fem!Reader Fanfic) Revised Ver.

Chapter 51: My Friend, Matt [Pt 1]

[Warning!]
Domestic violence/abuse, death, swearing.

✞  Matt's P.O.V  ✞

[16th Of August, 1996
Liverpool, England]

I don't remember much of my time living in Liverpool. I didn't have any friends. I had my mother and my father, but I didn't have any extended family, no grandparents, uncles, aunties or cousins. Well... I'd never heard of my parents talk about them, at least.

I never liked going outside, either. I spent most of my time on my father's computer playing video games when he wasn't home, usually when he was at work, getting drunk, or gambling. I didn't much care. I only had the games that came with the computer when they bought it a few years ago, long before I was born. It had chess, minesweeper, pinball and a few others, all the old-school ones. When you play the same games over and over again they get rather boring, but they were all I had. I wish I didn't have to go to school though, I would have so much more time playing computer games if I didn't. I barely learn anything at that place anyway, I didn't have any friends to talk to, but school is the only time I get to leave the house.

I remember I would spend hours tapping away at the keyboard and clicking at the mouse after I came home from school. It was the only hobby I had that brought me joy after hours of writing down notes and listening to the teacher at the front of the classroom, mum tried to introduce me to some new things but they were of no interest to me. Especially the outdoor activities like soccer or football. Dad doesn't like it when we go outside "without good reason", we don't like making him angry, so we just stay indoors.

We lived in a pretty shady neighbourhood, mum didn't like me interacting with the other neighbours, said they were 'troublemakers' who have done 'bad things'. We lived in a run down house on the corner of the street, didn't grow up in luxury, that's for sure.

I remember my old room. Dull, grey, wallpaper peeling in the corners of the ceiling, the sunlight that penetrates through the pale curtains at the peak of dawn. The only possessions I could call my own were my bed and my cupboard of 6 or 7 sets of clothes. I didn't have much growing up, but I made do with what I had.

My father was the sole provider of the house, but most of that money went to his drinking and his gambling addictions. When my mother suggested getting a job as well dad wouldn't have it. He's sooner die than let her out of the house without him breathing down her neck. He never let us go anywhere without permission and to make sure of it he would take the house keys with him when he went to work everyday, most times he wouldn't come back until midnight.

I hate him. I hated him even more when I'd hear him screaming at mum when he came back from the bar, or the casino. He'd scream at her over the smallest things, he'd throw things at her, he'd hurt her and make her cry, that would happen almost every night.

"Promise me, Mail" she would plead to me, "promise me you won't leave your room when your father is yelling". She would always make me promise her that, to only leave when the screaming stops and the bedroom door closes.

I would lie in my own bed as I pressed a pillow against my head to drown out the sounds of my father screaming, my mother's hysterical crying, sometimes the sounds of kicking, punching, shattering glass, doors slamming... It would go on for a long time, sometimes it would drag out for hours. Hours of screaming and crying until dad finally grew tired of it and went to sleep in their bedroom.

"Mail..."

After hours of fighting, however, mum would always come into my room once dad was finished screaming and hitting her. Even when she wipes the tears from her reddened eyes, I could still see the pain she was trying to hide from me, but I could always see it.