Deceived Heart (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 35

I didn't know what to do today. Harry, me and the rest of the boys decided to go Liam's later tonight to watch a movie and hang out, but that was hours away. Since I had nothing to do, I decided to do some chores to try and please my father. I put weeks load of laundry in the washer. I've spent so much time with Harry that all my laundry and my dad's laundry has piled up and I haven't done it.

Might as well do it today so he doesn't find out and get mad right? While I waited for the laundry to be done, I made dinner for my dad. I made a big pot full of pasta just in case if I spent more time with Harry or the boys and he didn't have anything to eat, he could eat the leftovers. God knows what would happen if I didn't and he'd get mad at me again. 

The past 2 weeks he hasn't gotten that mad at me for anything. Sure there were a few yells here and there, but he hasn't touched me. I wasn't quite sure if I should feel happy or worried. Usually he would only go a few days before abusing me again.

Once the pasta was done, the washing machine beeped signaling that the laundry was done. I took it out of the washer then put the laundry into the dryer. While I waited for the clothes to dry, I ate some pasta while watching re-runs of Spongebob on tv. Yes I still watch Spongebob even at the age of 18 it's not weird. I washed my dishes and looked at the clock. It was 7:30, shit I had to be at Liam's by 8:45 which only gave me an hour to hang my clothes and get ready. 

I decided to get ready first. I wore black jeans, checkered vans, and a shirt with 2 bone hands with a rainbow in the middle of it. Once I made sure I looked decent, I took the laundry out of the dryer and began putting them on hangers and folding them.

I was in the middle of putting one of my father's shirts on a hanger when the door slammed shut loudly and my father stumbled into the living room. His eyes were bloodshot and glazed over. Looks like he's drunk. Again. What a big surprise.

"What the hell are you doing?" he slurred.

"Folding laundry and putting them on hangers," I answered.

"Good. You haven't done the laundry in a while and I was going to say something to you tonight. It's about time you took responsibility. Where's the dinner?" he said drunkenly.

"In the kitchen on the table. It's pasta," I replied.

"Whatever. Hurry up and finish the laundry and don't slack off you lazy twat," he said as he made his way to the kitchen.

When he was out of sight, I rolled my eyes and continued hanging the laundry. That was until I heard a crash come from the kitchen. I rushed into the kitchen to see my dad sitting at the table, his eyes bulging out of his head and the plate of pasta on the floor.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Your food tastes disgusting," my father answered angrily.

"Oh sorry," I said lamely. I mean what else was I supposed to say?

"The first time in 2 weeks that you make dinner for me, and it tastes disgusting. What a fucking disappointment," he spat.

"Okay," I said.

"Okay is not gonna fucking cut it!" he yelled as he stood up. He tried to walk over to me, but accidentally slipped on some of the pasta that was on the ground. He fell down and I tried to supress my laugh, and it worked. Sadly though it wasn't good enough because I ended up smiling.

"Are you smiling at the fact I slipped on your fucking food!?" my father screamed.

"N-no," my smile was gone and I stuttered.

"Yes you are! Don't fucking lie to me!" he stood up, and I backed up.

"I didn't I-"

"I said don't fucking lie to me you dumbass!"

"Yes I d-did I'm sorry."

"That's all I needed to hear," he stepped over the broken plate and food and lunged at me.

He ended up tackling me to the ground, and before I got the chance to stand up, he grabbed both of my legs and dragged me into the living room. All that was going through my mind was holy fucking shit fuck shit fuck shit. So much for 2 weeks without being abused I thought. He put my legs down in front of the couch where all the hangers were.

"Stand up!" he demanded. I slowly stood up and looked down at the ground.

"You've had it so fucking easy for too fucking long! It's been weeks! See without discipline you won't do anything right! Now I'm gonna give you some you stupid son of a bitch!" he spat. I could smell the alcohol and cigarette smoke radiating off of him.

He grabbed a hanger, and my eyes went wide. I knew what he was going to do. I tried to make a run for it to the kitchen and out the backdoor, but I wasn't quick enough. He pulled me by the back of my shirt and dragged me back to the living room.

"Rule number 1! Don't run away from me when I'm trying to fucking punish you!" he yelled as he hit me on the back with a hanger, and I screamed.

"Rule number 2! Don't scream while you receive your damn punishment!" he yelled and hit me with the hanger again.

"Rule number 3! Next time don't expect me to go weeks without giving you your punishment!" another hit.

"Rule number 4! Don't fucking smile or laugh when I get hurt!" and another hit. Each hit kept getting harder and hurt more.

"Rule number 5! Next time actually make decent fucking food!" another whack.

"Rule number 6! Don't go weeks without doing your goddamn chores!" and another blow.

"Rule number 7! Don't hang out with your friends too late because then I won't get my fucking dinner!" and oh look another hit.

"Rule number 8! Stop being a useless dumbass," he hit me again.

"Rule number 9! Follow rule number 8," another smack with the hanger.

"Rule number 10! Follow rules number 8 and 9 or else you won't get it this easy of a punishment next time got it!" he screamed and smacked me with the hanger again. This time hurt more than the others and I supressed a scream, but my eyes started watering.

He threw the hanger back on the couch, kicked me in the ribs once, then walked into his room and shut the door loudly. I layed on the floor for a while not getting up. I just didn't have the energy, but I couldn't lay here all night. I cleaned up the mess in the kitchen quickly, but my ribs ached and my back burned. I finished the laundry and left his clothes outside my father's door. 

I went upstairs to the bathroom and took my shirt off. I turned around and looked at my back through the mirror. The sight made me sick. I had big red welts on every inch of my back. I touched one of them and screamed. It hurt like a fucking bitch. I got on my knees and threw up into the toilet, until I couldn't throw up anymore.

I flushed it then put the lid down. I opened the cabinet in the bathroom and took out what I was looking for, my release. I held the blade in my hand and squeezed my hand closed until I felt the sharp edge cut into my skin a little bit. I watched as a little bit of blood trickle down my hand, then I sat on the lid of the toilet. I pulled my jeans down and put the metal to my skin on my thigh. I squeezed down until I made a cut. I made 4 more to make 5, then I began working on my other leg to make 5 more. 10. 10 cuts to represent 10 hits. 

I cleaned up, washed the blade, then went into my room. I texted Liam saying I couldn't make it to his house because my dad grounded me for not doing my chores which was a lie, then turned my phone off for the night. I layed on my bed on my back which was a mistake because the sheets irritate my back and tears started spilling out of my eyes. I turned onto my side and began sobbing quietly. Nothing new there.

*****

Hiiii sorry for the crappy chapter I wrote this in kind of a rush haha. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my friend Joanna aka @rosebud_harry on twitter bc it's the bitch's birthday and she reads my fanfic as well so happy birthday lol. 

twitter: jukeboxiou