You were meant to love me.

Face Reality

"𝒞𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓀, 𝒞𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉."

The moonlight was breathtakingly beautiful , stars glistering like glitter scattered out on a dull, dark table. The coruscant, dangling lights above letting him have credibility that he may have a future. He could one day be unencumbered. For a second, he let his damaged eyes close, allowing himself to feel conviviality as the small individual mellow lights warmed his lamentable heart. Jerome let out a smile as he felt raptured by the glorious world awaiting him, as for a few seconds he felt free, for a few seconds he felt alive.
But the world he so passionately believes is waiting for him isn't reality. Jerome opened his eyes again, letting out a silent sigh, gathering his flimsy self up off the floor as he needed to start walking back to his so called "home."
Focusing on the sight of his warm breath hitting the cold world as he walked, mainly because he didn't want to look at the people giving him deplorable glares as he dragged his broken body by. The rumours weren't true anyhow, they were lies. If anybody had committed those actions, it was his mother. But what could Jerome do about it? He was a child after all, and children are suppose to be seen, but not heard.
When Jerome eventually reached "home" he stood outside the door, letting his ear gently fall onto it. He could hear his drunk, alcoholic mother laughing with another man, except this man sounded familiar. It was Zach. Jerome winced at the thought of what was awaiting him behind the closed door.
He softly released his pressed ear from the door and reached out for the door knob as if it was made of glass. He turned the handle slowly, trying to not make a sound.
As he pushed the door wide open, a strong scent of alcohol and cigarettes wafted into his face almost immediately. Jerome walked in, closing the door graciously behind him as if his life depended on it. He remained at the door, almost feeling the rug under his feet touch him, as his shoes were so torn up.
"Well, would you look who it is." His uncle said spitefully as he turned to make eye contact with Jerome, turning his face into a cold hearted smile, knocking Jerome to feel sick to his stomach. "The penultimate loser!" Lila shouted through clenched teeth, not even bothering to turn around to look at her son. Jerome let out a half smile to his uncle, trying to block out and hide his aching heart that was dragging him down. He remained quiet, frozen at the door for a while, letting a few minutes pass by to see if they wanted to complain at him some more.
After around 4 minutes went by, Jerome plucked up the courage to use his voice. "I-I'll be going to my room now" He whispered, holding back tears. "Oh, SHUT IT JEROME!" Lila spat as she turned around and stared at him for the first time today with poisonous anger.
Within the first step Jerome took to leave, he fell onto the floor, tripping over the rug beneath him. As he gathered himself together and attempted to get back up. He was instantly pinned back to the cold hard floor, twice as fast as he fell. Jerome closed his eyes tightly as tears were already shooting down his almost healed face like heavy rain, preparing for what was to come.