How I Deal
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,078
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,078
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
I'm in an Abusive Relationship part 1
Lisa - Thank you so much for the review, it really made me happy. All the boys except Ban are 16, Ban is 17. Carmen won't go to the police or talk to anyone about his father because he really loves his dad and he knows his dad wasn't like this before. He's also scared of what may happen to him or his father if anyone ever found out, he's hoping that his father will stop drinking and return to the way he was before. Also, no, the boys aren't plotting to do anything to their tormentor. They've all been carrying around the secret of their abuse and self injury for a long time and they have no one to talk to it about and it's eating away at them so they're telling them to each other to feel a sort of relief of being able to speak these things out loud to another person and to hear them from their own lips. As much as I hate it, this story won't have a happy ending, but it doesn't really have a sad ending either. I don't want to spoil it for you though.
Ban~
~~~
I was a mistake, as my father reminds me every time he looks at me. I was conceived in the back of his first car, on his first date, with his first girlfriend.
When my teenage mother found out she was pregnant with me she told her parents because the local clinic wouldn’t let her get an abortion without their consent. I was a punishment, they made her keep me because they were not in favour of abortion and they thought I would be punishment enough for her. My father’s parents thought I’d be a good chastisement for him too, so both my grandparents forced my mother and father to marry. My parents weren’t opposed to the idea of marrying at first because they liked each other, but as time went on the got tired of each other and they couldn’t break up, their parents wouldn’t allow them to, for my sake, or something of that sort.
My parents had always had a roller-coaster of a relationship. They loved each other then they hated each other then they’d fuck on the couch in the living room and after mom would throw dad out and tell him not to come back and in the morning they’d be having breakfast together like nothing had happened.
They’ve both had affairs, more than once, and they brag about it to each other as if to make the other jealous, but I know mom doesn’t get jealous when dad tells her about how he bent his secretary over her desk at work and dad doesn’t get jealous when mom tells him how she blew the mechanic and swallowed.
I shouldn’t know these things, but they talk about it so openly, like I’m not there and I know they wish I wasn’t because then they wouldn’t have to stay with each other.
Seven months ago my father’s mother, and my last living grandparent, passed away. Of course my father was sad his mother died, but he was thrilled because with both their parents all gone, my mother and father could finally divorce without interference from their parents. However, they came into a problem while filing their divorce.
Me.
What were they going to do with me?
“David, you have to take Ban, I don’t want him.” Right in front of me, the words dripped off her tongue so easily, and though it should have shocked me, it didn’t.
“What the fuck, Angela? He’s your kid, you take him. Why in the hell would I want to keep that little fuck up?” I don’t think dad has ever called me by my name; I’m always ‘The Mistake’, ‘The Fuck Up’, ‘Piece of Shit’ or ‘Little Bastard’.
“He’s just as much yours as he is mine! And if you had used a condom that night, like I told you to, we would have him now, would we?”
“Geez, you’re so right, it’s my entire fault. I’m so sorry I knocked you up.” He doesn’t mean any of that.
“You should be sorry! I spent the last 17 years of my life cleaning up after and taking care of you and him!” Whenever she refers to me and I’m in the room she’ll point her perfectly manicured index finger at me as if she’s pointing out a criminal on a police lineup.
‘That’s him officer! The kid that totally fucked up my vag and kept me bound to his lazy ass, son-of-bitch father for 17 of my best years that I’ll never get back!’ I can imagine her saying something like that while she forces black tears down her plastic face.
When they look at me and my existence is noticed I feel like I’m a pet or a piece of furniture and they think I can’t hear or understand what they’re saying, but that’s usually when I leave because I know they hate looking at me.
They hate me, even though I have mom’s fine straight brown hair and her bright brown eyes. They hate me even though I have dad’s long nose and pale thin lips. They hate me even though their blood runs through my veins. They hate me even though they made me. They hate me because even though they’re not teenagers anymore; I’m still their punishment.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I know this chapter was short, but I broke it up because I hadn't updated in a while because I'm busy with college, but I am working on it and where I actually left off on this chapter is in the middle and i didn't want it to leave off there.
Rate and/or Review?
Ban~
~~~
I was a mistake, as my father reminds me every time he looks at me. I was conceived in the back of his first car, on his first date, with his first girlfriend.
When my teenage mother found out she was pregnant with me she told her parents because the local clinic wouldn’t let her get an abortion without their consent. I was a punishment, they made her keep me because they were not in favour of abortion and they thought I would be punishment enough for her. My father’s parents thought I’d be a good chastisement for him too, so both my grandparents forced my mother and father to marry. My parents weren’t opposed to the idea of marrying at first because they liked each other, but as time went on the got tired of each other and they couldn’t break up, their parents wouldn’t allow them to, for my sake, or something of that sort.
My parents had always had a roller-coaster of a relationship. They loved each other then they hated each other then they’d fuck on the couch in the living room and after mom would throw dad out and tell him not to come back and in the morning they’d be having breakfast together like nothing had happened.
They’ve both had affairs, more than once, and they brag about it to each other as if to make the other jealous, but I know mom doesn’t get jealous when dad tells her about how he bent his secretary over her desk at work and dad doesn’t get jealous when mom tells him how she blew the mechanic and swallowed.
I shouldn’t know these things, but they talk about it so openly, like I’m not there and I know they wish I wasn’t because then they wouldn’t have to stay with each other.
Seven months ago my father’s mother, and my last living grandparent, passed away. Of course my father was sad his mother died, but he was thrilled because with both their parents all gone, my mother and father could finally divorce without interference from their parents. However, they came into a problem while filing their divorce.
Me.
What were they going to do with me?
“David, you have to take Ban, I don’t want him.” Right in front of me, the words dripped off her tongue so easily, and though it should have shocked me, it didn’t.
“What the fuck, Angela? He’s your kid, you take him. Why in the hell would I want to keep that little fuck up?” I don’t think dad has ever called me by my name; I’m always ‘The Mistake’, ‘The Fuck Up’, ‘Piece of Shit’ or ‘Little Bastard’.
“He’s just as much yours as he is mine! And if you had used a condom that night, like I told you to, we would have him now, would we?”
“Geez, you’re so right, it’s my entire fault. I’m so sorry I knocked you up.” He doesn’t mean any of that.
“You should be sorry! I spent the last 17 years of my life cleaning up after and taking care of you and him!” Whenever she refers to me and I’m in the room she’ll point her perfectly manicured index finger at me as if she’s pointing out a criminal on a police lineup.
‘That’s him officer! The kid that totally fucked up my vag and kept me bound to his lazy ass, son-of-bitch father for 17 of my best years that I’ll never get back!’ I can imagine her saying something like that while she forces black tears down her plastic face.
When they look at me and my existence is noticed I feel like I’m a pet or a piece of furniture and they think I can’t hear or understand what they’re saying, but that’s usually when I leave because I know they hate looking at me.
They hate me, even though I have mom’s fine straight brown hair and her bright brown eyes. They hate me even though I have dad’s long nose and pale thin lips. They hate me even though their blood runs through my veins. They hate me even though they made me. They hate me because even though they’re not teenagers anymore; I’m still their punishment.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I know this chapter was short, but I broke it up because I hadn't updated in a while because I'm busy with college, but I am working on it and where I actually left off on this chapter is in the middle and i didn't want it to leave off there.
Rate and/or Review?