Twelve.

329 5 0

Author's note


Hey there babes! Thanks for reading up to this far :) In this chapter I'm going to be using a flashback and so it'll be in italics. Just so you guys don't get confused, lol.

IG: @peirecethevic

Thank you guys!

..

I was practing my drums while my brother was playing with his guitar and mindlessly singing. We had been playing for the past hour and was enjoying every minute of it. We rocked out on the carpet, that we called our stage. We done this almost everyday. We loved to do this. This was our escape. Playing music and being with each other.

I was really getting into playing my drums when I heard the front door open and slam. I looked up and saw my mom coming in through the door. She was stumbling though. She threw her purse onto the counter and looked over at my brother and me. I wanted to help her but I had no idea how to.

Vic looked over to me while I was still playing on my drums, and gave me  a face that I couldn't read. He had stopped playing and made my urge even more to keep going. Just as I was about to hit a note, my sticks were taking away from me. She took the only thing that I loved and known. She threw them just like she did her purse. But hit my brother. He started to cry while she got even more mad and started to say nasty words my dad told me to never say.

..

I look at the man before me and can tell in his eyes that there is pain and hurt there. I have never noticed it up until now. He has never shown me this side to him before and it's all very new to me. I watch him give me a distraught look on his perfect face and look at other places other than my eyes before he speaks,

"My mom, Vivian... Her and my dad got divorced soon as I was born and she was never the mom figure to me as I was growing up. She was very hard on Vic and I. She never told us she loved us, or gave us any type of love and affection. She went out a lot and never seemed to care about us. I was very young and I didn't really know but when I went to school and saw kids' parents pick them up and swing them around and attack their face with kisses... Hurt. My dad tried to do that to Vic and I but it never really filled the place where my mom was suppose to be. At the age of 15, I understood more and more. My friends always gave me shit about my mom, because apparently they knew stuff that I didn't. When I grew tired of it around 16, I asked my friends what the hell did they know. I was tired of acting like I didn't care. They told me she was the "talk of the town." She was seen on corners at night time, and would be flirty to every man she came into contact with."

He takes in a deep breath and I'm already on the verge of tears, but I quickly swallow them. Now is the time to be strong for him. I give him a simple smile to encourage him to go on.

"I came home that day to ask my dad was all of this true and why hasn't he never told me. He started to cry... He kept repeating he was sorry over and over and saying how he wished he didn't have us with such a shit of a parent. He told me he never wanted to take us away from her because he didn't know she was doing such emotional damage to us. It's true. My brother and I never once told him what she was doing to us. We covered it up and told him we either fell or we got into a fight to cover up our bruises."

By this time, he's getting emotional and I can barely keep my eyes from going crazy. I keep repeating in my head that this is for him and I have to be strong and be his rock.

"I never told anyone this, but I am going to tell you." He searches for my eyes and stands up from his chair. What I never expected was for him to show me his arm. I looked closely at it and noticed some scars, and cuts. Some were fresh, others have scabbed over, and some were faded. 

I hadn't noticed I had tears coming down my face by this time but I welcomed them as I shared this moment with someone who I care about deeply.

He sits back down and looks at anything but my eyes, and starts again, "Whenever she would yell and scream at me, I had to release my anger somehow. I would go into my bathroom and cry my eyes out and look at the blade on my bathroom sink. It haunted me and one day, I fell into it's trap. I made my first cut. It made me cry harder, but I felt relief shortly after though. Then after that I started to do it more and more. I became addicted to it around the age 14. I never once thought my life would turn out to be this way. I always question why did I have to be put into this situation? Why me?"

He wipes away a tear and takes in a deep breath again and softly chuckles. I look at him with the biggest confused look on my face, while I still have tears rolling down  and my face flushed.

He started to speak again,

"But then I quickly realized that I am okay with this. It has taught me a lot. That I am strong and that no matter how hard life is, I can turn it around for the better. I can make something out of myself and live the life I want to."

He licks his lips and searches for my eyes again,

"Addison."

I lock eyes with him and before I can ask what, he gives a light smile,

"I have never connected with a person across the US as much as I have you. You have made these past two months worth living. You have made me see the bright light and not everyone is a bad person. You make me laugh and smile. You give me horrible Mexican jokes and I want you to know you have changed me and I will forever be thankful for you."

Forget itRead this story for FREE!