Troglodytic (Yaoi BoyXBoy)

Part 34: Last「Yuki」

"Ah..." He touched his face.

"You just want to fuck around with other girls! If that is the case then why don't you just date them, and leave me!" I could feel my heartbeat racing. I was beyond angry at this point.

"It isn't like that. You aren't happy with me."

"You don't do shit! Every now, and then you would take me out. Then you would have second thoughts when your friends are here. You would treat me like I'm an embarrassment! I'm sick of it! I want to feel like I am your partner, but I just feel like I'm one of those little brats you could care less for! You don't even love me do you?!"

Takahiro was silent, and that was all the answer I needed.

"Do you just want to break up? You piece of shit!" I yelled.

"Yeah." He said without second thought.

I didn't know what to say anymore. I just quickly went upstairs to the bathroom. I locked myself inside. Tears were dripping down my face. I love Takahiro deeply even when he didn't give a shit about me. We are living together. Now I have to witness him bringing girls home. What is so good about girls anyway? They have nothing compared to me. I can do anything they can do, and more.

I could feel the heat rising to my face. I clenched my fist tightly. I hate girls. I hate anyone that took Takahiro away from me. Who is this new bitch? Reika was out of the picture. I made sure of it.

These horrid thoughts of eliminating everyone invested my mind. Maybe I am delusion, and crazy. If anything, I blamed my father for it all. He was the lunatic that harmed my mom in the end.

======

"Dad, where did mom go?" I asked my dad. I was four years old so I didn't know what was going on. My parents treated me like I was an outsider.

My dad glares at me. His long hair hits me as he turns my way. My father was a very traditional man. He always wore a kimono unless he was at work, and his long hair would drape down his back in a ponytail. He looked like a samurai to me.

"Yuki, your mom is a bitch. She abandoned you." He chuckles.

"What is that.....?" I didn't know all the words he used at the time. He was a very unsuited father.

"A bad person. Fuck her. Go clean the kitchen." He demanded.

"But I just cleaned it yesterday."

"I said go!" He slaps me hard across my face.

My father had mental issues. He was abusive, and ten times worse than my mother. He was sent to a mental facility soon when I turned seventeen. Since then, I haven't seen him. I only visited him once.

We sat across each other on a table in the lunch room with all the other patients. His hair was messy, but still in a ponytail. He looks at me in disgust.

"Why the hell do you visit me? I don't want to see your face."

"I feel I should because I'm your son."

"You remind me of him. I hate him!" He screams.

My father always told me I reminded him of his former friend that was a betrayer. He told me as a child he was locked up by some family, and that their son used him for sexual purposes. I didn't believe him since my dad tends to lie a lot, and was delusional half the time.

"I don't know him. I'm sorry." I said.

"Stop visiting me like I'm some prisoner. I am a prisoner again! I hate it. If you visit me, at least get me out." He cries.

"I can't."

"You are just like that bastard! He tries to sneak me out, but fails. As a son, you need to try!" He grabs my arms. I was terrified whenever he touched me.

"I can't I'm sorry." I shoved him off. I was slapped roughly by him. Guards came to assist me, and held him back.

"Keep your hands to yourself." One of the guards hollered at my dad.

"He's a worthless son of a bitch! He just wants me to rot away in this hell hole!" My dad's eyes were filled with fury, and hatred. I felt scared, and sad.

My dad is a handsome man. Many girls liked him. He just couldn't maintain a relationship for long. When his mental illness kicked in, he became a lot more reckless with his appearance. His cheeks were hollow, his skin was dry, and he overall just looked like a person that has been starving for years. I felt bad for him, but at the same time I didn't care. He deserved this pain for what he has done to me. I could of loved him like a father, but he chose to be a beast with me. I hated him. I hoped he died in this hell hole, but at the same time I wanted him to live. If he lives, he suffers more.

======

I woke up from passing out in the bathroom. What a weird dream. I often dreamed of my father. Aside from his crazy behavior, he cooked the finest cuisines that made my childhood bearable. That was something I had admired in him.

I got up from the floor, and went to unlock the door. I looked at the wall clock. It was three in the morning. I passed out for a while. I heard Takahiro sleeping already. What an asshole. He didn't even try to comfort or talk things out with me. He will surely get my wrath. I formed a fist. I hate Takahiro. This anger won't subside with a simple sorry this time. I will watch his moves carefully. I will.

I went downstairs to the kitchen. I looked at the knife block, and took a relatively large knife from the block.

My dad's face flashed before my eyes. Salvia drew down the corners of his mouth, and his eyes lustful. I clenched the knife tightly, and quietly made my way upstairs.

I walked into Takahiro's bedroom. He was in deep sleep. I could tell by the heavy breathing he was producing. I walked slowly to the bedside where he slept. I pulled out gloves from my pocket, and a bag of blood out from my pocket. I dipped the knife into the blood. I took out a cloth, and wiped the handle clean of my prints, and slowly slipped the blade on to Takahiro's palm. I made sure his prints touched the handle. I glared at the sleeping man. He is starting to make me angry.

I went downstairs, and pulled out an identical knife. I stabbed my upper arm. It hurts like a bitch, but I was used to the pain that I didn't react. I quickly took the knife, cleaned it, and decided to hide it outside in a sewer.

I pulled out my cellphone, and called for the police. Sorry Takahiro. You drew your last line. I'm tired of you, and the way your horny self functions.

"911, what is your emergency?" The woman on the phone said.

"My roommate stabbed me. He is asleep now because I made him drink sleeping medicine.  Please help." I pleaded, trying to make it sound believable.

"Okay, we will be there shortly. Please stay put sir."

I clicked off the phone, and grinned. Maybe I will end up getting caught, but what was the point in living a dull life?

To Be Continued