Can Nobody Hear Me? Jacksepticeye AU

Chapter 7

"We're going to the beach!" Stacy exclaimed with a wide grin on her face. This elicited a loud squeal from Sammy and she even began to jump up and down excitedly. "Your dad can't come though because he has some stuff to do for work."

"Can't he bail on work for one day?" Alex questioned, his lips in a straight line, even though he secretly was ecstatic for the outing and just too 'cool' to admit it.

"No, it's... it's important. Now go on, you two, get ready! I want to leave in the next half an hour!" Sammy practically screamed all the way up the stairs whilst Alex remained silent. The sound of two doors shutting (one harsher than the other) filled the air and made Stacy turn to Chase who was sitting on the sofa with his laptop. "Last night I spoke to Alex."

"You didn't hurt him, did you?" Chase immediately asked, looking up with pleading eyes. If Stacy had hurt his son, he'd probably flip out. He was more likely to defend his son than himself, even if it meant he got hurt. His children were his priority, even if they were blood relatives of the woman that had ruined his life.

"No, I did not. I told him that it was a misunderstanding. He knows nothing is going on now."

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed by that. Did you want him to tell someone and get in between our relationship? Did you want to have the option to leave me?"

"No, no, Stace. I-"

"If anyone gets in between us, the kids will be my first target and I am taking them with me. You will never see them again."

"I know!" Stacy grabbed Chase by his shirt and pressed him into the wall, glaring at him so he knew she wasn't playing around. She meant every single word.

"The only reason I'm keeping you here is because the kids need you. Alex might hate you soon enough though... lying to him about his mother..."

"Please, Stacy. I didn't-"

Slap. Chase cried out in pain. "I don't care what you meant to do. If you do one more thing to mess this up, I'm kicking you out onto the streets and you won't see Alex or Sammy again."

"Okay. Just- Just don't hurt them!"

"I won't," Stacy let go of him and turned around so she was no longer facing him. "I wish I never married you. I deserve so much better and so do the kids. You're useless and a pathetic excuse for a father."

Stacy then left the room to go and get ready herself, missing when Chase mumbled, "I know."

-

Once Chase had wrapped up his recording, he headed straight into the kitchen and started to search for something to drink. His whisky was usually at the back but he put his hand in the cupboard and was unable to feel anything. He backed up a little, his entire body shaking as he couldn't get what he wanted. Hot tears streamed down his pale cheeks before he took off to the bathroom.

Ashamed of himself, he couldn't even glance in the mirror. His hair was an unwashed mess, going in all different directions thanks to his habit of hair pulling under stress. He had thick bags under his eyes from his inability to get to sleep after arguments. He was much paler than he remembered too, almost in a sickly way. He may as well have been a corpse. Letting out a loud sob, he opened up the cupboard and felt around for his razor.

He never thought he'd have been reduced to hurting himself but his alcohol stash was gone so he didn't have any other coping mechanism. He had done it once before when he was a teenager, after his dad had walked out on his family, leaving him alone with only his mother. He didn't realise his hands were shaking so much until he tried to pry the razor apart to get to the blade. Eventually he managed and the metal dropped to the ground at his feet.

He sat on the closed toilet seat and picked it up again. He fiddled with it for a moment before he found it in him to suppress the nerves and finally press it into the inside of his wrist. When he did, he let out a light gasp, watching with fascination as the blood bubbled out of the mark. Realising what he had done, he jolted his hand back and stared at his wrist with wide eyes. "Oh my God..." He muttered to himself, grabbing some tissue and pressing it into the wound.

-

The next few weeks dragged by agonisingly slowly. They argued. Chase got hit. Alex didn't notice anymore. Even when Chase showed up at breakfast with a dark black eye, no one said a word. Chase hadn't thought about hurting himself again though... until one night.

"Alex asked me to take him to his friend's tomorrow instead of you," Stacy had started, making Chase frown and question it. "I think he prefers me. I think he hates you after what you did by convincing him I was abusing you..." Chase opened up his mouth but snapped it shut when Stacy continued. "And Sammy wanted me to take her clothes shopping too. I quote 'daddy doesn't pay enough attention and is really annoying'. Looks like she prefers me too."

"That's not true."

"Oh but it is and you know it. You have no place here anymore. They're embarrassed by you and want to do everything with me."

"Stacy-"

"Yes? Are you going to defend yourself? Or are you too weak and pathetic?" Chase found that his throat dried up until it was just about as moist as a desert before he shut his mouth and swallowed thickly. "You are hardly a man." She hit his shoulder in a way that may have seemed playful to an outsider when really it made him stumble backwards slightly. He couldn't defend himself because he was afraid to make things worse. In all honestly, he was unsure about how much more hitting and yelling he could take before he completely broke down. He needed to stay strong for the kids. Always the kids. In the worst moments, his mind desperately gripped to images of his children when they were smiling and it usually gave him that extra little push he needed to keep going. "Well, I'm off to take Sammy shopping."

"Where's Alex?"

"Shouldn't you know that? Maybe if you were a better listener..."

"I'm sorry." He glanced down at his feet that were covered in lion socks. Animal socks used to amuse him but now Chase knew the world was too harsh to find minor, pathetic humour in something you wore to simply keep your feet at a decent temperature.

-

Everyone was out of the house and that meant Chase could succumb to his usual ritual. Alcohol with its latest addition of a friend, his razor. Chase had already downed a bottle before he made it into the bathroom to begin the next part of his ritual. His body was trembling, a result of both the alcohol in his system and the trepidation. He broke apart the razor and touched the cold surface of the blade. The item was so small but it could easily cause so much damage. Wasn't that fascinating?

He dropped the metal object to the ground around half an hour later, shaking even more so than the start. His left arm was a mess, so much so that it pained him to look at it. He almost regretted it but he liked the sense of control he obtained from using the razor. He didn't have control over anything else in his life, self harming was the only thing that was only his. As messed up as it sounded, that was his life.

After returning the razor to its home and wrapping his arms messily in bandages, Chase found himself in the living room with another bottle of whisky. It didn't even taste that good. He wasn't addicted to the taste and the burn it left going down his throat though, he was addicted to being able to drown his sorrows just for one moment and find some fresh air to breathe.