Warnings ⚠: Child Abuse, Rape, Violence, Religion, Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Use of Slurs, Homophobia, Bullying, Mention of Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Actions, Gun Use
Josiah's P.O.V.
-Wednesday, October 27th-
I didn't expect staying at Damien's house to be as hard as it is.
I want to go home, and to some extent, I have convinced myself that I will. But I don't think Damien will let that happen.
All the times I've joked about him keeping me forever, and now this...
It's strange to be sleeping in a bed, and to know that Damien is literally next door, and that I can do whatever I want as long as no one notices I'm here...
His parents don't come in here at all. So that's easy.
And then there's the butler guy... Pierre.
Damien expects me to be used to him somehow.
I'm not.
I do not like that Pierre tries to talk to me, and how he tries to be nice and...
Sometimes, I like it.
I just hate that I like it.
I think that having Damien, and having Pierre... It's kind of like having family? I don't know, but that's what it feels like.
At school, I forgot multiple times that I don't need to worry about going home. My mind kept going back to how am I going to explain all of this to my father and Aunt Dahlia...?
But I don't have to.
Because I'm not going home...probably.
I think we need to talk about that.
I don't get why, all the sudden, when my dad came back and Damien realized that things happen, everything became different. Suddenly, it was dangerous to live at home...
Or something?
We'll need to talk about that, too.
I don't know when, but I'll bring all of it up to him. Probably whenever he doesn't seem stressed.
Which...isn't often.
And probably isn't right now.
I don't know. It's hard to not be able to read people's expressions...
So, during lunch, I bring nothing up. Not one thing on my list is mentioned.
We talk about dogs.
He showed me a golden retriever, repeatedly telling me about how fluffy they are.
I determined that we should get a golden retriever puppy once we move out.
He seemed to like that idea.
But I don't think it will happen.
Sometimes, he's concerned about money. Dogs are expensive.
We'll probably have either a dog or a cat. Not both.
At least, not until we're rich and have a big house.
Plenty of room for a big dog.
Maybe that's what we need to talk about.
So, I choose to bring that up instead as soon as he starts his homework.
"Hey. Damien, are we going to have enough space and money for a cat and a dog?" I ask.
"Probably not right away, but we will someday. Once we're out of school."
"That's cool. What do you think you'll major in once you go to college?"
"I dunno, maybe like business shit. Or maybe I'll be an astronaut."
Unlikely.
"Stocks?" I suggest.
"Fuck no."
"Oh, okay. Fair enough." I shrug.
He was very adamant about that one.
"What if you didn't go to college and instead you join a travelling rock band? So we can go a lot of places."
"Also a firm fuck no. I won't ever play in front of people."
"You play in front of me. And you're really good and it makes me very happy. So why not?"
"I'm not good enough, first off, and secondly, you don't count. I could do anything with you."
"That doesn't make sense. Why would I be different than any other person? And you're very good."
"Have you ever heard like literally anyone else? My only goal with music is to be able to play every Taylor Swift song. It's not a viable career option. Plus, being in a band is cringey as hell. Not to mention the fact that it doesn't pay enough to keep us alive, I'm sure."
I look down at the shirt I'm wearing. The one I stole from him last night and he hasn't even said anything about.
"Bullshit. You should join..." I read the name carefully, "My Chemical Romance."
He sighs, "Way too late for that, bud. Rest in peace." He makes a kissing noise and puts a hand in the air.
I flinch a bit.
The fuck...?
I look up at his hand. "Okay...? Then join some other band. Just kill off their guitarist and take their spot."
"I do not want to be in a band, but if I did, that would be my plan of attack."
"Sounds good," I say, "Hey, how are you doing right now? Rough day?" I ask him.
He laughs. "As always. Why?"
"Oh. Nevermind." I shrug.
"No, what's up? I'm okay. Better than yesterday."
I sigh, "Am I ever going home...?"
"Do you not want to stay with me?" He asks, putting his pencil down and looking over at me.
"I want to. I just...also want to go home. And don't understand why I can't."
"They were hurting you, Josiah. Way worse than they were before. I have to know you're safe."
"No, first of all, nothing changed. We've been over this. Why did you suddenly decide that it's worse...? Did something cross the line into you're staying with me territory?"
"The...rule your dad broke. The day that I found you. That was way past the line. And any sort of physical abuse, like throwing stuff at you, or hitting you. That's past the line. Josiah, when I found you..." He cuts himself off with a shaky breath before continuing, "...You looked so scared."
"Damien... I was scared, but I'm always scared. Dad always has done stuff, and I'm used to it. I would be okay there."
"No. Because one day he would go too far and you would be dead. And that's my worst fear. You being dead. Even just saying it makes me start to panic... You mean so much to me, and I can't let anyone take you away."
"Okay... But he wouldn't kill me. I was fine, especially if that's your fear."
"I don't believe you. It wasn't just a fear, It was happening."
Of course he doesn't.
"So, what I'm hearing is...I'm never going back...?"
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I... I can't stop you if you want to. But I really, really think you should stay here. With me. Where you have a bed and food, and it's warm and safe."
"I want to...but I'm not going to. Because I don't feel as scared here."
I have to be scared, and hurt. Always.
"You have to then. I take it back."
"Alright. You know, I've lived this long. You don't need to be afraid of anyone taking me away."
"I don't know how you've lived this long. It's nothing short of a motherfucking miracle. If your dad doesn't kill you, you'll walk into traffic, or accidentally, I don't know, walk off a cliff. I've never had anything like you before, and I can't lose you.""
"How would I manage to walk off a cliff...?"
"If anyone could figure it out, it would be you."
"Not unless I wanted to." I point out.
"Don't do that either."
That's fair.
"Well, do you believe in fate? Everything happens for a reason?" I ask.
"Yeah, I do."
"Then you should assume that whatever has happened, is happening, and will happen is for the best. And everything is the way it's supposed to be."
"You dying is, in no possible scenario, for the best. I think we make our own fate. That maybe if I'm nice or something, nice shit will happen back. And I'm scared because I haven't been very nice."
"You shouldn't be scared of that. I think I'm your punishment for it."
"Or you're my redemption."
"Maybe. But you should be careful about that. If you're making your own fate here, then... You might not end up the way you want to."
"What do you mean?"
"If you're going to assume I'm going to be good for you, some things may go wrong. Because, it's like... I might be your punishment. For being a bad person. Karma." I explain.
"Nah. Not possible. You're too cute to be my punishment. Are we done? I have five more questions."
"Multitask. Have you ever thought about the fact that you like me so much, but you can't touch me? Isn't that bad?"
"I've thought about it, like, everyday, but no. Given your situation, it was really fucking horrible for me to ever push anything on you."
"That's not true. Your problem is you stopped, and now you've put yourself into this situation where you can't get what you want. And you've convinced yourself that it's somehow not a punishment, or that it isn't bad. When you can't have things that you want."
"This has gotten way too philosophical for me. Listen here. Are you listening?"
"Barely."
"Well, listen."
"Okay. Pretend I am."
"Well, I'm not going to tell you if you're not listening, because why bother? At that point, I can talk to a brick wall."
"I've been told it's pretty much the same thing. So either works." I shrug.
He sits his head on the table, an action I'm very used to at this point. "Josiah. You won't be convinced no matter what I say, so why bother? You're not my punishment. So get over it and move on. I'm not leaving you or hurting you or hitting you or anything in between. No matter what your brain says or thinks I should do, I won't."
I shift, bringing my knees up to my chest. "Okay. What's my purpose, then? In the grand scheme of your life. Because I know I didn't do anything to deserve you. Why am I here?"
"To give me hugs and make me smile. Two things you happen to be very good at."
"I..." I rub my head, "That works, I guess...? I don't know. I wish I believed that. Do you seriously think that...?"
"Yep. That's all I think about. As you know, I am a dumb-ass, who does not give any thought into anything. So if that's what's on my mind, it must be pretty damn important."
I crack a smile at him. "You're insane." I inform him.
He smiles back. "So I've been told."
A moment of silence passes before he starts focusing on his schoolwork again.
I'm glad he's at least trying to pay attention to it.
I'm not a very good tutor. Obviously.
What feels like an hour goes by, before he hands the paper to me.
The answers are...kind of right. Most of them are right or almost right.
"B-." I say.
"Damn." He sits his head back on the table.
I get up. "Break time. Let's go watch TV."
"But... I have to fix them..." He mumbles into the table.
"No. It was a test. No changing answers." I smile.
"How will I know how to do it if you don't help me fix them?"
"I'm a shitty tutor. What can I say? This is why you aren't supposed to date people you work with." I tell him.
"Oh. I thought that was just because it would be awkward if you broke up. Can we at least go over them after TV time? I really do need your help."
We will if he doesn't fucking fall asleep.
"Probably. You should get a new tutor." I suggest.
"No. Just get good."
I poke his back. "Not gonna happen. Let's go."
"I cannot. I am sleeping."
"Oh no. I'm going to go upstairs and watch TV by myself, then."
"Don't leave me. I'm lonely."
"Me, too. Let's go." I rub his back.
He's tense.
As usual.
He sighs and lifts his head. "If we go upstairs, I'm going to fall asleep, you know that, right?"
"I know. I'll wake you up." I promise.
"Okay." He says, getting up and taking my hand.
...
Damien fell asleep within five minutes.
At this point, I'm just used to it.
The annoying part is knowing that he isn't listening to me anymore.
But, if he only listens to me as much as I listen to him, it's not something I need to worry about. Because it's pretty much the same.
Talking to a brick wall...
Right.
My mom's journal said that about me a lot. So I'm not surprised.
"Damien. Wake the hell up. What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shake him a bit.
"I'm awake!" He yawns.
I grab his face. "Are you?" I ask carefully.
He opens his eyes and blinks at me sleepily. "Yuh."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Hello."
"Good," I giggle, "How are you?"
"I'm amazing. I have a really cute and smart boyfriend. I think you would like him."
"I doubt that."
"No, trust me. He's very cute. Like, imagine...the cutest thing you can. It's that, times a million." He says.
"You're the cutest thing I can imagine."
"Well, that times a million. That's you."
"I don't know. It doesn't sound right. I think your cuteness is 10/10, and it's kinda complicated to multiply that by a million..." I tell him.
"Well, good thing you're smart then."
"Good thing. Right," I nod, "You're not actually the cutest thing I can imagine. Not 10/10 either, more like 6/10."
"Don't make me go back to sleep. I'll do it."
"Why? Come on...being cute isn't your thing."
"Well, I don't want to be scary. That's what you're going to say is my thing...or a dumb-ass."
"I was going to say you're hot." I correct.
"...Oh. Thank you."
"I can't see you, so it's not really my opinion. The general public seems to find your type of appearance hot, though. Probably 9/10."
"Did you take a poll?"
"No. But I should."
That would make it a scientific study.
"That would be hilarious. Excuse me, sir? Can you rate my boyfriend on a 1-10 scale?" He says, raising his voice an octave, as if being me.
I shake my head no.
"Someone would say 10 and I would be sad."
"Yeah, maybe we don't do that."
"We? Would I just be dragging you around and showing you off to people?"
"Yes. It would be very funny."
"No... People would flirt with you." I whine.
"So what? I wouldn't really flirt back that much."
"You wouldn't that much...?"
"I can't help it! When people flirt with me, I panic!"
I let go of him and shift to be leaning against him again.
"Don't do that." I say.
"Yes, sir."
"Hug me." I tell him.
He pulls me close, resting his head on top of mine. "You're small."
"I am not." I snuggle against him.
"Yes, you are. Teeny tiny."
My face heats up. "Shut up..."
"It's cute. Oh. I have something important to tell you!"
"What is it?" I hide my face against his chest.
"Look at me first, so I know you're listening."
"I'm not listening." I argue.
"Josiah...!" He complains.
I lean back enough to look up at him. "You're going to make fun of me." I sigh.
"No. I'm going to do this. Boop."
He boops my nose.
I glare at him.
"You're making fun of me." I insist.
"What? No I'm not!"
"I'm not a baby..." I drop my head onto his chest again.
"I didn't say you were a baby. I said you were cute."
"Then you booped me."
"'Cause you're cute," He insists, "If you don't like it, I can stop."
"I like it... It just makes my face get really hot and then I can't think straight and it's weird..."
"Oh. It makes you blush... I like when you do that. I like making you all flustered. Cute."
"Stop..." I whine against him.
"Okay."
I look up at him again. "Why do you insist on treating me like a baby?"
"I do no such thing."
"Have you ever once booped another person?" I counter.
"I've never loved another person."
"I don't believe that."
"I mean, like, loved another person who isn't my family." He tries to explain.
"I know." I say.
"Why don't you believe me then?"
"With how many people you know... You had to have had feelings for other people. You didn't boop them."
"Having feelings for someone and loving someone is different."
"Not really. What's the difference?"
"It's complicated. But love is unconditional, having feelings for someone is just thinking they're cute and nothing else."
"Nothing is unconditional. And you really think all of that? Having feelings for someone is just what you call it before you're dating."
"Yeah. Or before you catch feelings for someone else. Like having a crush on someone. Then you date for a while, and if you're lucky, you want to be with that person forever. No matter what. Unconditionally. That's love. Or what I think it is."
"Love can go away, too, though."
"Can it? Or did you just not really love them? I don't think love can go away. I just think at that point, it didn't exist."
My heart aches a bit.
"Love can go away if someone does something really bad."
"No, it can't." He says.
"Bullshit."
"That's not how it works. Or how I work, I guess."
"That's exactly how it works. I know people. I know what I'm talking about. And sometimes, you can love someone, but stop loving them some times and not other times."
"My turn to call bullshit. You don't know what love to me is like. It's different with everyone. I'll never get over you. If something happened... I would always love you."
"What if I was bad to you?" I ask softly.
I feel like I've mentioned this before...
"I would still love you."
I don't like that.
"You shouldn't love people who are bad to you."
"It doesn't mean I would stay. It just means I would still love you."
"Alright. You need to get over that. That'll just make you miss people. Then you'll be sad."
"I'm already sad. Why bother trying to change things that I can't anyway?"
I shift away, laying on his shoulder instead. "I want you to be happy. You need to do what makes you happy." I tell him.
"You wouldn't like my answer to that."
"Don't say that. Tell me."
"You'll just cry again. I don't like making you cry."
"I'm about to start crying anyway right now. Might as well be honest with me."
"Nothing makes me happy anymore. At least, not enough to matter."
I sit upright, turning and looking at him.
"Nothing?" I ask.
"Not enough to outweigh everything else." He confirms..
"Then there's nothing you can do. And nothing matters." I murmur.
"I guess so."
"My mom did a lot of journaling and scrapbooking. She wrote things like that a lot." I tell him.
If he thinks those things, too, then...
"Did she? I never get to hear much about her."
"I don't remember her. But dad used to sit me down and make me read all of her stuff..." I back away from him a bit, "She said all the things she thought would make her happier just made it worse."
"I don't know how it was for your mom. But I can tell you you're not making things worse. You're one of the few reasons I'm still here." He says quietly.
"You might think that. But mom had me for five years and she insisted that I gave her purpose, when all I did was make her sad and stressed."
I pull the long sleeved shirt over my hands, staring down at my lap.
Crying would just prove his point.
"That's not it. Please don't think that I feel that way. I don't. I promise you are helping. I do. I'm not like your mom."
"If nothing m-makes you happy, then...then..." I struggle to keep holding back tears, bringing my hands up to pull my hair, "Then nothing's helping."
"Don't pull your hair. Please. You're helping. I promise. I won't... I won't do that. To you."
"I'm your punishment." I start again.
I try to look at him, but I can't bring myself to.
Not when my eyes fill with tears.
"Josiah... No, you're not. If I could change how I felt, I would... I just... I can't. But I'm trying. And I'll figure this out. I promise."
I pull harder and close my eyes. "I'm s-sorry."
I'm bad. He shouldn't love me. He shouldn't involve himself with me at all.
I shouldn't be here. I'm ruining things.
For him... For everyone...
I need to leave.
"I want to m-make you happy, but I-I c-can't because...I just k-keep making things w-worse."
"Josiah, stop pulling your hair," He instructs in his serious voice. He then softens his tone, "You shouldn't be sorry. I would have been dead in August if I didn't meet you. You're not making anything worse. You're making me better. I promise. If you weren't here, I would have left."
I drag my eyes up to him. "Why c-can't I pull...?" I manage.
It makes him mad. I need to stop.
I don't want him to be mad.
He'll...leave me...
"You'll hurt yourself. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
"But I was bad..." I whisper.
"No, you were not."
A sob slips out of me and I quickly cover my mouth with both hands.
"I...I'm sorry..." I mumble.
"Don't be sorry. Can I hug you? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
I instantly go back to him and cling onto him, grabbing his shirt with one hand and still covering my mouth with the other, trying not to make noise.
He gently wraps his arms around me.
"It's s-scary," I try, "Hurting you..."
I don't want to ruin his life.
"You can cry. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay," He says, rubbing my back, "You're not hurting me."
I curl up against him. "But you're n-not happy."
It's my job to help him. I'm supposed to make him feel better.
I try to tell him that we'll be okay, but...I'm not really helping. Ever.
Probably because I don't believe it, either.
"It's okay. I think if I keep trying I will be." He says hopefully.
That's not how it works. You can't just change that sort of thing.
"Promise t-to k-keep trying?"
"I promise."
I rub my eyes and press my forehead to the crook of his neck. "I love you." I tell him.
"I love you, too. More than anything. Always."
"I l-love you more. Don't leave m-me."
"I..." His voice cracks and he stops for a second, "I won't."
"Thank you." I mumble.
A part of my mind wants to kiss him, but the other part reminds me of how scared I would be.
I just remember Damien slipping a hand under my shirt and all I can think of is how horrifying sex is.
I'll never be able to give him that sort of intimacy...
"...I'm sorry." I say again after a minute of silence.
I'm sorry for not being perfect.
"What for?"
"For...kissing rules. And for s-screaming at nighttime. For making every conversation into a reason to c-cry, and for being so needy, and impatient, and..." I ramble.
"Stop it. You don't have to apologize. You are perfect to me. No matter what you say or do. I'm serious. And it's okay to cry. I do it all the time."
He either needs to accept the apologies or punish me for them. I know I give him a hard time...with everything. He isn't going to convince me otherwise.
"I'm sorry for not listening. F-For being a brick wall." I add.
Because I'm not listening to him now.
"It's okay."
I close my eyes, sighing deeply.
He's never going to admit that I'm the worst.
"It's okay..." I echo, trying to convince myself.
I relax into his touch. I like it when he holds me and rubs my back.
As long as he doesn't touch my skin.
"...I'm just tired." I claim.
"Do you want to go to bed?"
"I don't want you to let go of me." I shake my head.
Ever.
"Then let's just stay here."
"But tutoring..." I remind him.
Watch me be the one to go to sleep and ruin it. Ironic.
"I'll look over it later tonight. I won't sleep anyway."
He should sleep. It's one of his major problems.
I don't reply because I know I'll just start more fights, like always. I just cuddle up to him, feeling safe with him.
He protects me. Being away from him is scary.
I start to drift off in his arms a few minutes later.
...
-Thursday, October 28th-
When I wake up, I'm in a bed.
I faintly remember Damien carrying me, but I'm not sure if it was a dream or if it was real.
I sit upright, rubbing my eyes.
Where are my glasses...?
What time is it...?
I feel around for my phone, but it's not on the bed.
It seems like it's still dark...
I shouldn't be awake yet.
But I don't think I can fall back to sleep. Not like this, at least.
I get up carefully, unsure if there's anything on the floor in this room.
I walk forward slowly until I feel the wall. I then locate the door to Damien's room.
I crack it open. "Damien...?" I call out.
"Josiah? I'm out here." He calls from seemingly nowhere.
"Out... Where?" I question.
"Hi. Out here."
"Outside?!" I go to the window, and he's peeking his head in, "How are you outside...?"
"The roof is right here and it's not very slanted. It's my thinking place. Also, I'm doing homework."
... What?
"You're on the roof?"
"Yep. Contemplating life and math problems at the same time."
"Come back inside."
"No, thanks. Why are you up? It's 3:30." He's just leaning in now, seeming strangely relaxed. Definitely making no move to come inside...from what I can tell.
"It is...? I woke up and I was lonely. Come in."
"Come out."
"I don't think that's safe, though. You wouldn't let me." If he was in his right mind.
"Oh. You're right. Can I help you with something?" He laughs.
"Come in for cuddles so I can go back to sleep..."
He sighs, "I'm never going to get my homework done, you know that, right?"
That's a good point.
Or maybe this is just his way of telling me to leave him alone. Because he doesn't like yelling and being scary.
"Okay. I'll just go back to the other room, then."
"No!" He goes back outside, then comes back in with his backpack, dropping it on the floor, "I want cuddles."
"Then don't be an ass." I reply.
"Sorry," He sits down on the couch, grabbing a blanket first, "Okay. Cuddle time."
"Don't go out on the roof again." I go over and drop down beside him, immediately snuggling close.
"It's not dangerous. It helps me think."
"You can't say it's dangerous for me and not for you." I argue.
"I can see."
"Right. And I would be out there with you, a person who can see. So that isn't an excuse."
"You would find a way to fall off, even if I was carrying you."
"Only if I was really trying to. So, no."
"Okay. Did you have a bad dream?"
"No. But I didn't feel safe, so I came here. Why weren't you asleep?"
"I wasn't joking. I haven't been able to sleep for a while now." He starts gently petting my head.
"Sleep now." I tell him.
"I guess I could try..." He leans his head back.
I lay on him, sighing and relaxing my body.
I'm safe. Everything is okay.
"You have an alarm set for school?" I ask softly.
"Mhm." He murmurs.
Okay.
Sleep time, then.
...
The whole time Damien has been gone for his family time stuff, I've just been hiding in the closet in the guest room. Waiting.
Waiting for Damien to be done so we can relax.
Until then, I will sit here and just rock back and forth and pull my hair.
I'm okay.
There's nothing wrong with pulling my hair. No matter what Damien says.
I'm fine.
It doesn't hurt. Not as much as I deserve, at least.
The bedroom door opens and I instantly hold my breath to make sure I'm silent.
"Josiah!?" Pierre calls for me.
I can hear footsteps as he comes over to the closet. He knocks gently on the door, making me wince.
I can't stand that sound.
All I can think of is when I would hide at home. And my aunt would bang on the door and scream at me.
I can't breathe. I need Damien.
"Josiah. If you're in there, you can come out. You don't need to be afraid here. Would you like some Pop-Tarts? Damien wanted me to make sure you aren't hungry." He says.
I hit my head against the wall a few times, trying to calm down. "I'm fine." I tell him.
"Are you sure? Damien should be done any time now. Is there anything I can help you with in the meantime? You don't have to hide in there. No one will hurt you here."
I curl up tighter. "I'll eat when Damien c-comes back."
Will that be a problem this weekend? I'm sure. I bet it'll make them mad.
Do I care? No.
I don't feel safe eating if it's not Damien giving me the food.
I shift a bit, staring intently at the door. "Don't open the door." I warn.
"I won't. But you really should come out here. And maybe curl up with a blanket and relax a bit. I won't invade your...closet time."
"Will you leave me alone if I come out...?" I ask cautiously.
"Yes. I'll go downstairs and you won't have to deal with my old man chatter the rest of the evening."
Good.
I get up and push the door open with one hand, the other staying in my hair.
"Damien trusts you too much." I add, looking at him and making sure that he isn't going to try anything.
It's been a long time since I've actually had the ability to tell when people are going to hurt me. I just try to watch for movement.
"I hope he does. I spent most of his childhood raising him to not be too bad of a person," He says, "Anyway, I'll leave you to it then. I brought a fresh fluffy blanket up from the wash."
"He's a good person." I state, watching him go to the door.
"I'm glad to hear that. He worries me sometimes."
"I'm just scared he's going to hurt himself." I mumble.
I go retrieve the blanket.
"He's always had so much pressure on him. Ever since he was a kid. I don't think he will, but all we can really do is keep an eye on him and let him know he's loved. Someday, he'll be better. When he's far away from here."
"My mom killed herself. I don't trust anyone, especially not Damien." I reply.
I don't trust Damien to not be like her.
But I need him. So as long as he'll stay with me... Then, okay.
I go back to the closet door.
"Is it really that bad now?" He asks sadly.
"I'm really worried about him... I think it's that bad." I confirm.
"Thank you for telling me. I'm going to talk to him after he's done."
"Okay," I go back into the closet and slam it shut, wincing again, "Bye."
I sit down on the floor.
"I'll leave you to it." He says. I hear the door shut.
I'm not 100% sure that he left. I'm not going to open the door at least until Damien gets back...
End