Wounded

Wounded

I sat staring out the window, watching pigeons wandering about the field. Their grey flecked heads bobbed up and down, and even from here, I could hear their constant cooing. They had nothing to worry about; no abusive parent, no bullying, no anything. They were birds, they had winds, they had freedom. It's a strange thing; to become so desperate you wish you could swap lives with a pigeon. A small smile touched my lips as I remembered Jimmy running around the school field, with flushed cheeks and a manic grin, as he managed to punch and kill a pigeon. He had warned the bird that it that "it shouldn't trust us humans!", whilst me, Matt, Zacky and Brian sat laughing at him. I suppose some aspects of being a pigeon wouldn't be too great.

Those friends were the only people who kept me on this earth; if it wasn't for them I would've killed myself a long time ago. But I've stayed strong for them. I didn't want to hurt them, so I put myself through the pain of life, hoping that one day it would end—my life or the abuse, I'm not sure which I would prefer. For their sakes, I hope it would be the abuse, but that would never be the case. I suppose it was just account down until my farther pushed the abuse too far and ended my tragic excuse of a life.

I shakily rubbed my hands over my tired eyes, blinking away unshed tears as I packed my things away. I'd stayed behind the school late to do homework. Or that was my excuse anyway. Anything to stay away from him a little bit longer. The peaceful sanctuary of school was not one that many people appreciated; so few infact that I'd become close to the caretakers here, who cleaned after hours. I said my goodbyes to them as I passed them, walking out of the school grounds to make my way home.

My friends joked around, calling me a geek and various other insults for always staying behind after p school; none of them know the real reasons why I stay, and I saw no real point in telling them. I'm pretty sure Jimmy and Brian have suspicions about it; they know I have it a bit rough at home but they've never learned the full extent of what goes on behind closed doors. Sometimes I almost tell them, but what would be the point?

I always made sure I was late for gym so I could get changed without anyone being in the changing rooms. We had no private cubicles, and getting changed with the rest of the class would reveal the many bruises and scars which littered my body; drawing me a lot of unwanted attention. So every week I made sure to get to lesson late, then quickly get changed when no one was around. But one week it was different, I was in the middle of getting changed and Jimmy walked in—using the changing rooms as a hideout whilst he was bunking class (there was no cameras in the gym, for obvious reasons)—by the time I managed to pull a shirt on to cover the bruises it was too late—Jimmy had already seem them.

"Johnny?" he asked, questioning the bruises. I cast my eyes downwards, not wanting him to see the tears building up. He bounded over, pulling my shirt up so he could inspect the wounds further, his fingers lightly drawing over my various scars, circling the bruises and the more fresh wounds. Neither of us said anything for a long time; Jimmy had his jaw clenched in what I read as anger. I had a lump in my throat preventing my speech, my head hung low, the tears glazing my eyes close to overflowing and my hands shaking slightly, in fear of his reaction."Johnny—" he started, something akin to pity in his voice.

"Don't." I managed to choke out—not wanting a lecture about going to the police and shit—before my eyes overflowed his tears and I started sobbing uncontrollably. Jimmy pulled my top back down and let me collapse into his arms, his arms wrapping around my tightly as he held me close to his chest. I buried my head into his chest, wiping my tears away on his shirt.

We stayed like that for what seemed like hours before my tears ran dry and I stopped my shaking. I never told Jimmy how grateful I was for that; just for the fact he held me whilst I cried—it had been a long time since I'd received affection of any kind. Jimmy leaned back eventually and looked me in the eyes, his worry being clear through his eyes, as his emotions always were.

"Why didn't you tell any of us, dude?"

"You all would've wanted me to go to the police." I whispered. Jimmy just nodded; understanding along with pain shining in his eyes. Jimmy knew that my dad was the only family I had left—I couldn't lose him. No matter how much he abused me, he was still my dad. Jimmy sighed, and meant his forehand against my own.

"I won't tell the others if you don't want me to." Jimmy said quietly, running a hand through my hair as he did so."Thank you." I hugged him tightly, laying my head in the crevice of his neck. "I love you, Jim." I whispered, meaning every word of it. He was like a big brother to me, even if he did tease me non stop when we was around the others. I knew he thought of me the same way though, and he'd proved himself willing to go to any extent for his friends.

"Love you too, short shit." he said playfully, ruffling my hair as he did so and kissing the top of my head before wrapping his arms round me and resting his forehead to mine one again. And for the first time in years I felt safe, happy, wrapped in my best friends arms.

As I walked down my garden path I fumbled in my bad for the keys, and tried to unlock and open the door as quietly as possible, hoping that either my dad wasn't in or he was too drunk to hear my entrance. I quietly closed the door behind me, making no noise as I did so. I sighed in relief as I heard no noise from the house apart from the TV in the next room—hopefully he'd fell asleep watching some crap TV show, it was his usual routine after a afternoon in the pub.

I managed to get halfway up the stairs to my room before I registered that the TV had gone silent, I froze—not even breathing—trying to pick up the slightest noise. It was only a few short heartbeats until I heard footsteps and my dads' harsh voice cut through the silence, shouting my name.

I tried to run the rest of the way to my room, hoping that if I made it there I would be safe. Wrong. I managed to get to almost the top step before his hand wrapped round my ankle, pulling me painfully to the bottom of the staircase; my already fractured ribs bursting with renewed pain as thy collided with each stair.

"Thought you'd sneak up there without me did you?!" My dad shouted from above my position of lying on the stairs. My breath was coming out in ragged gasps, breaking the silence. "Well come on then! Get up-fucking-stairs!" he screamed at me, his bulging eyes giving him the appearance of a rabid dog. I lay frozen on the stairs, my only movement coming from breathing; scared of what would happen if I made the wrong move.

I cried out in pain his hand fisted in my hair, dragging me up the stairs by it. Tears sprang to my eyes as I quickly scrambled up; trying to keep up with him so I could lessen the pull on my hair.

He dragged me to the top of the stairs and then into my room, literally throwing my onto my bed; the springs screaming in protest as my weight hit them. My breath was coming in short gasps and I wrapped my arms around my chest to try and dull the pain coming from my ribs. I heard no approaching footsteps and thought that maybe—maybe—he had left. He never abused me in my room. It was my safe zone. But he destroyed my last safe place as he climbed onto the bed himself, straddling my small waist.

His hands gripped my wrists in a bruising grip, making me cry out in pain. He threw my wrists away from him before continuing to punch me in the mouth. It was on the second punch that I tasted the familiar metallic tang of blood in my mouth, knowing the taste all too well.

He then moved on to punching me in the ribs, almost certainly breaking my fractured ribs with the first punch. I screamed out in agony, the pain like nothing I'd felt before. For the first time I found myself begging, pleading for him to stop. He did. And I instantly regretted it, because he never stopped.

"Stop? I'm only giving you what you deserve, Boy. Never could take a beating could you?" he sneered, the menace in his voice and the madness in his eyes scaring me deep to my soul. "You think that was bad, you see what I'm going to do to you now." He growled into my ear.

I felt his hands fumble with the button on my jeans, and a bolt of fear ran through me. I quickly started to struggle, my attempts quickly being stopped by another punch in the ribs. The air left my lungs, and I fought my hardest to try and replace it, gasping for air in pain and in fright as my father pulled my jeans and underwear down my legs. An evil smile washed over his face as he quickly kicked my legs off the edge on the bed. I was frozen with fear, letting him do what he wanted to me, seeing no point in struggling; knowing I would lose and only make my punishment worse.

I positioned me so I was kneeling on the floor, bent over my bed still so my face was buried in the covers. I thought he was going to whip me, thrash me with his belt—it wouldn't be the first time. But oh how I was wrong, what he had planned was worse. Much, much worse, I realized when I heard his own flies being undone and his trousers being dropped to the floor.

But still I refused to believe what was going to happen. He'd made me suck him off before. He would just make me do that. No big deal. Well it wasn't for me anyway, I been through much worse in my—

My thoughts were lost as I screamed out at the excruciating pain that tore through my body as without warning and without preparation my father pushed his whole length into my arse. I felt something tear deep inside of me and felt warm liquid—blood—start running down my legs as he started to thrust in and out of me. I was shaking, screaming and whimpering in pain, my hands twisted in the fabric of my bed sheets and my front teeth bit down on my lip—so hard that blood had started to run down my chin, but the pain was little in comparison to the pain spreading like fire through my arse and ribs. My breaths were coming out in sobs, making the pain in my chest heighten as the hot tears washed down my face and dripped onto my bedcovers.

The man behind me gripped my hips painfully; a grip which would certainly leave dark bruises. The punishment lasted for what seemed like forever, and it felt like i would implode from the paid searing through every cell of my being. He dug his nails into my skin, his grip tightening as he screamed, releasing his seed into me before pulling out of me and collapsing on top of me.

"How'd you like that, faggot?" He said, chuckling darkly as he shoved his fingers into my hole roughly, causing fresh blood to start flowing down my legs, the pain only increased by his crushing form on top of me. But in a moment the weight was pulled away from me, and I heard the smack of flesh against flesh. Confusion overtook my mind and pain burned though me as I collapsed to the floor, twisting around and observing through tear-blurred eyes.

Jimmy. Jimmy had my dad backed against the wall, littering him with punches and kicks. I tried to call his name, tell him to leave, beg him to help me—but my mouth wouldn't work properly. I swallowed blood before trying again. Lisped curses rang through the air, and a gasps of pain from my father.

"Jimmy." I managed to whisper, almost certain he wouldn't hear it; I barely heard it myself. But he did, he stopped throwing his punches instantly; letting my dad fall to the floor as he rushed over to kneel besides me, his hands cradling my face."Get me out of here." I begged quietly, and saw him quickly pull out his phone. "No hospital." I added. Jimmy looked as if he would disagree but reluctantly pocketed his phone before leaning over me, picking up a pair of old joggers which were laying on my floor, pulling them over my legs and hips carefully as possible before scooping me up into his arms—causing me to whimper, and Jimmy look guilty—as he quickly carried me bridal style down the stairs and out of the font door. He paused to unlock his car—well, his dads car that he 'borrowed'; without permission most probably—before carefully setting me down onto the passenger seat, closing the door and running to the other side of the car, quickly jumping in the drivers seat and speeding off. I leant my head against the cool car window, letting the pain and darkness consume me...

Dull aches were coming back to me, the pain still throbbing through my mind, but no where near as intense as before. I felt someone's hand in my own, and I cracked open my eyes, slowly looking around. Jimmy was in the chair beside the clean White bed I was laying in, his eyes closed and gripping my hand. My eyes quickly darted around the room. Hospital. Annoyance mixed with anger run through me. I'd said no hospitals! Hospitals involve police, there's no way I could lie about what happened and my dad would be locked up.I tore my hand away from Jimmys, and his eyes quickly shot open, quickly filling with joy.

"Johnny, thank god—""I said no fucking hospitals!" I tried so shout at him but it come out as more of a whimper. His face saddened and he looked guilty.

"I'm sorry Jay. I just didn't know what to do, you were bleeding and you wouldn't wake up. Then you started coughing up blood and I panicked so I drove here and they—"

"Jimmy!" I cut him off, his rambling being cut dead. "I'm sorry. I understand...thank you. My dad would have probably killed me if it weren't for you." I admitted quietly, feeling tears start to pool in my eyes again. Jimmy stood from his chair—tears and pain evident in his own eyes—collapsing onto the bed with me, careful to dodge the wires coming out of my arm. He hugged me tightly but managed to avoid all my bruises.

"I'm gonna kill him." Jimmy whispered in my ear and I could've sworn I felt the warmth of tears on my skin. I'd never seen Jimmy cry, and I'm sure he wouldn't let me see him cry now. I wrapped my own arms around him, ignoring the small bursts of pain coming from all over my body, pulling him closer to me and laying my head on his chest.

We were sitting like that for what could've been hours...and that was the first time I'd ever felt safe in years. I'd been told that the police were coming to take a statement from me tomorrow. I didn't care as long as Jimmy was here with me. He still hadn't told any of our other friends that I was in hospital, and I wanted it to stay that way, and I was forever thankful that he understood that. I didn't think I'd ever find a friend as good as Jimmy. Even the rest of my friends act as if I'm a nuisance to them half the time; but never Jim. He told me that I had to move in with him, he didn't want me back in that house alone—neither did I, too many memories—and he had a small apartment big enough for one other.

I'd been prolonging for so long going to the police because my dad was the only family I had. But I was wrong; Jimmy was family, and I knew he'd never hurt me intentionally in anyway. He's the one who gave me enough courage to keep myself going...




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