*Jack's POV*

I woke to a horrible pain in my upper arm.

"What the-" I muttered groggily, before a heavy hand went in front of my mouth, quieting me and waking me up thoroughly. The pain in my arm was a hand wrapped tightly around it. Wha..?

"You better stay quiet, you little faggot," someone grumbled.

Someone was in my room.

And not just anyone.

My father.

My eyes widened in shock, but I stayed quiet.

"Now listen here," my father continued. "I already checked you out, and they told me they would give you one more check-in before I took you. But I say, a worthless faggot like yourself wasn't even worth the time they spent on you in the first place. So I took the liberty of taking you home early."

I could see the his sickening smile, even in the dark. As he slowly removed his hand from my mouth, certain I wouldn't make a sound, I whispered out harshly, "Home? I can't go home, what about Emma?"

"Who cares about that emo slut?" He retorted, making my blood boil. "She did this to herself."

"Don't talk to Emma like that you douc-" I half-yelled, before my father shoved his filthy hand over my mouth once again.

"We are done talking, you faggot! Come with me." He growled, and pulled me behind him, hardly giving me a choice. I gasped in pain as he tried to pull me away from my IV, the needle tugging in my hand. My dad turned back and harshly ripped the IV out of my hand.

"C'mon, faggot."

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Dad threw me into the living room, letting me trip up the porch steps and fall to the floor. I quickly stood myself up, shaking, afraid of what I knew was coming.

"So." My father said, shutting the front door. I suddenly felt much more trapped than I had before.

"Anorexia?" he whispered menacingly, still smiling madly.

My heart froze. How did he know I haven't been eating?

"That's right, you emo shit," my dad spat in my face. "I know." I could have sworn that my heart stopped beating. I flinched as my father raised his fist, and cried out in pain when it made contact with my stomach. I doubled over, and my dad shoved me over to a wall. My head collided with the wall and I fell to the floor.

"Dad," I gasped out. "Dad, I'm so-"

"SAVE IT!" My faster yelled in my face. "YOU THINK I WANTED A FUCKED UP FAGGOT FOR A SON?! YOU'RE WHY SHE LEFT, YOU KNOW! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! IT'S ALWAYS YOUR FAULT! EVERYTHING IS ALWAYS YOUR FAULT!" He continued to shout as kicks and punches rained down on me. He kicked at my stomach over and over. I rolled over and coughed out some blood.

So this is it, I thought. This is what my life has come to.

My father finally gave me one more vicious kick to the stomach, and picked me up by the collar of my shirt.

"You are nothing," he growled in my ear as I coughed up more blood and tried to breathe. "And that's all you'll ever be."

He threw me against the wall and watched me slide down it to the floor, clutching my stomach. He then spat on me and walked out of the room. I closed my eyes and listened to his retreating footsteps.

It was over.

Or so I thought.

My eyes flew open wide as I heard the footsteps coming back. I looked up at my dads furious face. He stomped over to where I had slumped down and shoved me back to my feet, slamming my back to the wall.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" He shouted, waving something shiny in my face. "I WENT TO GO GET SOMETHING TO WRAP MY KNUCKLES WHICH WERE SWOLLEN FROM PUNCHING YOUR UGLY, WORTHLESS FACE IN AND I FIND THIS IN THE BATHROOM CUPBOARD!"

It was then when I finally realized what was in his hands.

My blade. The blade I haven't pressed to my skin since I met Emma.

"Well?!" My dad shouted in my face. I guess I was silent for to long. I was still pushed against the wall, held in place by my fathers fist. He suddenly pulled me towards him, then threw me to the ground. He climbed on top of me and pinned my arm to the ground. I squirmed, desperately trying to get away.

Then I felt white hot pain in my arm and I screamed.

"Shut up you fag," my father grumbled. "I can see your scars, I know you like it."

All I could do was lay there in pain, tears streaming down my face, as my father used my own former torture weapon to cut open my skin. He was going incredibly deep, I could feel the blood flowing out right away. And he was cutting vertically. It was as if he was determined to kill me. I tried weakly to escape once more, but my body was giving in to loss of blood.

Finally, my dad stepped away from my body. I had a long, deep cut on my arm, from my wrist to the crease of my elbow. I heard the distant sound of my fathers footsteps leaving, hopefully for the last time.

I watched as the blood oozed slowly out of the open cut, forming a puddle on the carpet as everything went dark.

Notes

thank you for reading guys! c:

sorry I am feeling really angry and betrayed at the moment. didn't have the best day. so I dealt with my super laggy iPod and uploaded a not-so-happy and fluffy chapter. I still really like it though. sorry if you cry.

i still love all you crazy monkey spirits. c: