Preston's P.O.V.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, my arms shaking and my face streaked with tears. My eyes were ringed red and I was rubbing them fiercely, trying not to break down even further and cause my eyes to grow even more red, evidence of my crying.
I leaned against the sink, relying on it almost completely to hold me up and stop me from tumbling to the floor, where I was sure I would end up with more injuries than I already had.
My black eye, bleeding nose and the scratches all over my face told the story of the beating I had taken barely an hour before, but there was more than that. I was struggling to breathe because of the bruising on my stomach and I was desperately hoping that I hadn't broken an ribs, although it was a possibility.
I also had yellow, green and purple bruises covering my arms, torso and back from the punches I had taken and it was impeding my movements, making it hard to walk.
"PRESTON ARSEMENT! GET DOWN HERE NOW!" I felt a flash of fear run through me and I closed my eyes, mentally preparing myself to go downstairs. I had no idea what he wanted. "PRESTON!"
I unlocked and opened the bathroom door, limping down the stairs while clinging onto the railing to help me. When I reached the bottom of the stairs I looked up to see my father standing in the doorway of the living room, his arms folded and a firm scowl on his face.
"Pathetic." He spat at me and I almost took a step back but stopped myself, knowing what the repercussions would be. "Make dinner for your brothers, I'm going out."
I sighed to myself but did as I was told, knowing it wouldn't take much effort. There was never any food in the house because my father never went to the supermarket, he always ate out or demanded me to go and buy him some beer or something from the local bottle shop or dairy.
The only things we had were frozen, pre-made stuff like chicken nuggets or tater-tots. I knew I wouldn't eat anything, so I just put enough for my two younger brothers in the oven and then sat down at the kitchen bench, waiting.
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"Hey Rob." I sighed, rubbing the dried blood from my nose off my face with my hand.
"Preston? What the hell happened? Why is your face like that?" He was looking at me through the other side of the screen, looking extremely concerned for me.
"I'm fine Rob, I- uhh, I fell down the stairs." He furrowed his brow, clearly not believing me.
"I know you're lying Preston, you've had way too many injuries recently and I know you aren't exactly clumsy." I just looked away, staring intently at the floor and just trying to avoid the question.
"I'm fine Rob, I swear." I mumbled it out, knowing he still wasn't believing me. When I looked back up he was almost glaring at me, clearly even more concerned now than he was before.
"Preston, look at me. I know you're lying bu-"
Behind me the door slammed open, almost breaking off its hinges and my father was standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face. I shoved my laptop to the side, hoping against all hope that he hadn't noticed it and stood up with my back to the screen, trembling in fear.
"YOU! LITTLE SHIT!" He swung out and I screamed, feeling a flash of pain as his fist struck the side of my head and sending me sprawling onto the floor. He moved forward so he was standing above me, kicking his foot out and hitting me in the side, earning another scream of pain.
The foot hit me again, this time it came down onto my stomach and almost at once I felt bile in the back of my throat. Retching, I rolled onto my side and threw up the meagre amount of food that was in my stomach, and coming up with it came red patches that looked like coffee grounds. I knew it was blood.
His hand came down and grabbed me by my hair, forcing me onto my knees with my head facing up. He paused and I could feel him observing me, his breath right beside face.
"You're such a pathetic thing, sometimes I think you're the reason your mum left." He threw me back onto the floor and I hit my head on the side of the bed, black stars flashing in front of my vision.
Within seconds his foot had hit me again, this time landing on my upper torso. When it pulled back it felt like only milliseconds before I was being pummelled by his feet and sometimes his fists, hitting me everywhere, in my chest, torso, arms, legs, my head too.
The pain was intense, I knew there were several broken bones and I knew I was screaming, screaming out for him to stop and choking on the blood that was flooding my mouth.
"PLEASE! PLEASE STO-STOP!" I was trying to protect myself as much as possible, curling around on the floor with my hands over my head to protect myself.
With one last kick, I was out.
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"Preston?" The voice was shaky and just making its way into my mind. "Preston please wake up... please?"
I felt a hand under my head and groaned in pain, ebbing pain taking over my thoughts. I could hardly feel anything other than the pain and just wanted to go back to sleep, where I would go back to being numb and unable to feel the pain.
"Preston?" The voice was coming more into focus now and I knew I recognised it, although I couldn't quite tell who it was.
I squinted my eyes and felt the light behind my eyes blind me, making me groan again and closed my eyes again.
"Hold up, I'll dim the light." Behind my eyelids I saw the light fade away enough that I could open my eyes without completely blinding myself. "Hey Pressy, are you okay?"
I twisted my head to the side and whined as I did so, feeling the shot of pain that ran through me as I did so and the worried voice that followed my actions.
"Easy, easy, don't move okay." I knew I definitely recognised the voice and all of a sudden it clicked. It was Rob.
I had never hung up the call when my father came into the room and he had seen everything. He was there right then and must have taken me wherever I was at that point as I hadn't quite worked out where I was, although I certainly wasn't at home anymore.
"R-Rob?" I coughed, my throat was dry and I was only just noticing the metallic taste that still hung in my mouth, the taste of blood. I tried as hard as I could to keep my eyes open and as I did so I saw Rob lean over me and try to keep me as calm as possible. He knew I was scared.
"Hey Pressy, it's okay, you're in hospital. You've been out for quite a while." I was taking in my surroundings and yes indeed, I was in hospital. Everything was white and I was surrounded by curtains on three sides, but it was a familiar place as I had been in hospital a fair few times because of my father before.
I twitched one of my fingers, testing out my strength a little and it was only then I noticed that one of my arms, my left one, was in plaster cast, as was one of my legs.
"Preston you've been hurt pretty bad, you've got quite a few broken bones and you've been out for two days so you'll be here for a little while." I was taking it in and I wasn't surprised, my father had taken it further than normal and I was sure that he would have killed me if Rob hadn't been on the call when everything went down.
"What hap-happened?" I was trying my hardest not to cough.
"I called the police when I saw what was happening and they tried to get into your house, but your dad shot himself... they couldn't save him." I didn't care at that point. "Your brothers are okay, they weren't hurt, just terrified. They managed to get you into hospital pretty fast."
"You've got a broken arm, broken leg and several broken ribs, a concussion and bruises and stuff everywhere, it's honestly lucky you weren't hurt even worse." I knew it was true, I was surprised at how easy I had gotten away from the beating.
"Well I've had worse." It was true, I'd ended up in a coma for a few days and bleeding in my brain, I still had scars from the operations.
"Preston? Why did you never tell anyone?"