What a Catch - Phan

Back When I Was Twelve

A/N:  Well here it is finally 5 days late oops sorry about that.  Anyway it's the longest chapter so I did have the effort to actually write more than I would have done if I had posted it before.  

Dan's POV

I got to the top of the stairs, looking down to the bottom of the stairs, scared. My throat was choked up, I was chewing on the inside of my bottom lip, fear clouding my vision.

I slowly walked down the stairs, savouring every moment where my body wasn't aching as much as it would be in an hour or so. I walked into the living room, every step that I took jolting and heavy. I closed the door behind me and slowly raised my eyes to face the familiar image of my fathers face.

"I'm here, dad." I mumbled, not taking my eyes off of his cold, dark ones.  I heard his chuckle harshly with an evil grin etched on his face.

"Not just you.  I passed another one of your 'friends' on my way in too Daniel.  I think his name was Chris.  Let's just say he's not going to be bothering me for a while." He said loosely, his words slurring. I could almost smell the familiar scent of alcohol surrounding his horrible, menacing aura. He didn't stop grinning even when he was talking. His drunken state had always scared me, but I hadn't seen him like this for years. I lost contact with my parents after I moved in with Phil. I didn't want to have their contact on my phone as a reminder of all of those years that I had spent alone and scared.  It was better once I started going out with Hannah.  Dad still hated me, but old habits die hard and I was still frequently abused.  After I moved back, I would have thought that something would have changed, and it had. Dad wasn't always drunk, mum wasn't cruel, we all lived together, one happy family. Obviously it was never going to stay like that, I just wished it would.

*Flashback*

I was twelve. I was on YouTube, looking up the latest single by Muse. It hadn't been released on iTunes yet, and I couldn't afford the album, so YouTube was the only way I could listen to it. My dad called to me to come downstairs. It was quarter past twelve at night, and he had just come back from the pub. He was drunk as ever, but that was nothing new.  I was just surprised that he was sober enough to find his way home, let alone put the right key in the lock and open the door.  He didn't usually get home.  He would come home the next morning, yelling because he had a headache and blaming it on either myself or my mother.  She wouldn't care.  She would take it out on me too.  He had spent half of his money on beer, whether it was at home or in the pub.  He had pints of the stuff here; the house reeked of it.  It was only when he was particularly annoyed about something that he went to the pub.  This was one of those times.

He called to me, demanding that I come downstairs.  I went obediently, knowing that I would be much better off if I went instead of leaving him to come to me and give me a worse beating.  I went into the lounge and saw him standing there, in front of me.  He had a belt in one hand and was clutching it so hard that his knuckles had turned white.  He was wearing a psychotic smile that seemed to get bigger when he saw me.  As soon as he saw me he started advancing towards me, swaying slightly as the alcohol took control of parts of his brain.  I put my arms out in front of me prospectively, tucking my head into my chest.  I could already feel tears brimming in my eyes, but he didn't care.  He never did.

With his free hand he ripped my arms away from my face and brought the belt down onto my forehead.  At first everything was numb.   I inwardly sighed a bit, relieved.  This isn't too bad I thought.  Then the numbness went abruptly, and was replaced by a burning, stinging sensation that sent a shock down my face and spine.  I whimpered slightly, but he brought the belt down again mercilessly, letting it strike harshly across my chest and shoulder.  There was no numbness this time, only pain.  I shuddered as a tingling sensation proved the impact of the hit, feeling the pulsing from the angry, red mark that had already started forming.  I bit my lip, holding back a howl of pain, shaking.  I couldn't carry on like this, letting him control me and hurt me without feeling any pity.  It had all started when I came home from school one day.  I remember it clearly.