unlovable ; phan

1.

Warnings: child abuse, low self-esteem and a bit of depression.

"Daniel!" My dad called after me as I slammed my bedroom door shut.

I know he's mad now. I didn't even mean it. It was an accident. I grabbed my wallet off my dresser and started to pack a ton of things in my backpack.

"Open this door right now!" He screamed pounding on the other side.

Tears stung my eyes while I tried to be as quiet as possible. I need to get out of here. But where can I go? I don't have any family I can live with and I'm not even sure where my mum is. One night, she just...left. I went to sleep with her here one night and the next morning she and my brother were gone. She left a note for my dad telling him that they were fine and that they just needed to go, but then why didn't she take me? Maybe she didn't want my dad to be lonely. He was my best friend when I was little, but once my mum left, he took an abusive turn. He became dependent on alcohol to numb his pain and beating me when the alcohol didn't work. But if I stay tonight, he's going to kill me.

"Get out here you worthless piece of shit!" he screamed.

I slung my backpack with the few clothes I had over my shoulder and took a final look around my room. I opened my window about to climb out when my door flew off its hinges while my dad burst in.

"You're not going anywhere." He glared at me clamping his hand around my wrist.

"Dad, please let me go! I'm sorry!" I whined while the tears inevitably came.

"Shut the fuck up you baby. Real men don't cry."

He ripped my backpack off my shoulder and threw it into his room. I tugged and pulled, trying to get out of his grasp only making his hold stronger. I could smell the mix of cigarette smoke and alcohol on his breath knowing that he'd been drinking again. I bit my tongue to stop the tears while the trails dried up on my cheeks. I know crying makes it worse and I shouldn't, but it's so hard not to. He hasn't always been like this: Sometimes I remember the days he'd take me and my brother to the playground and push us on the swings or catch us when we came down the slide. I remember him teaching me how to throw a ball and ride a bike. He was the picture perfect dad; fun, silly, always smiling. He and my mother loved each other a lot so I'm not sure why she left. I just wish she would have left an address or a phone number or something. I miss her. And my brother. I miss the way my dad used to be around them.

He threw me in the guest room (what used to be my brother's room) and closed the door behind him so I couldn't run like earlier. That was my mistake, but I wasn't sure how many more punches to the stomach I could get before throwing up. I lifted my hands up over my face to protect myself waiting for the blow.

"You know why I'm doing this?" He shouted, his face a dark red color.

"B-because... I don't know."

"Yes you do, you fucker. Use that damn head of yours and think!"

"Because-I wasn't in my room when you got home?"

That earned me a slap to the face. I'm not allowed out of my room when my dad's home. I look too much like my mum and he hates that about me so I'm supposed to stay far away from him. But like all teenage boys, I was hungry. Though unlike most teenage boys, they get to eat three times a day if not more. I get food whenever my dad remembers to feed me which isn't often so I have to sneak around and steal it. He never knew I did it, but this time he caught me.

"Because you're a fucking thief. I've got a thief in my house!" He screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls shaking my insides.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I won't do it again." I begged raising my hands to my face again.