Half Bad //l.s

Chapter 1

*All rights reserved to original juliaxwrites *

chapter 1 - Louis

My body slammed into the firm wall, my sides aching as the pain increased. He was angry over something miraculously secretive, something he didn't bother to explain. But explaining wasn't necessary when he had fists, when he had legs , when he had strength. He could use each of his advantages to their best ability when it came to letting out anger, and that's exactly what he chose to do tonight. I just always seem to be the perfect punching bag for him to land his hits.

But as he took another large swig of his beer before backhanding me across the face, I knew that tonight was time. Time to finally set myself free from this incessant, brutal abuse. I had no reason to live under these conditions, and I was determined to find that one parental figure I hoped would explain why she left in the first place.

My mother.

He never likes talking about her, so I know to never bring her up. All he's informed me of is her departure and it happened when I was four. I can understand why she ran off if he was this bad when she were still here, but why would she leave her son to take the hits and punches? Why would she leave me here to suffer?

"Fucking faggot always getting in my damn way. Make yourself fucking useful and clean the house or some shit," he hissed at me before knocking me to the ground once more, then he stormed up the steps with his beer in hand.

I waited until I heard his door slam before I sprinted to my room in the basement. Apparently I took too much space to live in the actual house, so I was kicked down to the basement at the age of six. Nightmares? Oh well, get over it. Too cold? Oh well, find more blankets. Lonely ?oh well, get some friends. At the age of eight, I finally grew the sense to stop asking him for things. Through his eyes, minors are supposed to fend themselves. I guess he never comprehended the fact that children under ten were still learning and needed help in most things they did. My dyslexia for example , but apparently I'm just "faking" it for "attention". At the age of 11 , I finally came to the conclusion of me hating females, mainly for the fact that my mom left me with a monster scarier than the ones I imagine under my bed or in my closet. I guess I just had a little hate in me towards females.

I'm not saying I'm dumb, though. I actually taught myself multiple things from the little resources I could find in the limited internet of this house. Whenever he was at work , I'd sneak onto the computer and indulge as much information as possible. But I still wasn't able to get a decent job due to my lack of proper schooling.

"Shit," I muttered as I stubbed my toe against my bed. The frame had broken months ago, but he never cared enough to fix it, and I was saving my money for this moment exactly. I could live with sleeping on a bare mattress, but hopefully I could find some place to say for a little while. A shitty motel will even be better than this.

Double checking to make sure I had everything I needed , I trudged back up the steps and I looked both ways when I came to the top. Snoring was audible from upstairs, and I rolled my eyes at his obnoxiousness. But I was used to it, and I was also on mission, so I brushed it off.

Tiptoeing towards the front door still seemed safer then running, so I did just that. It took at least five minutes to get all the way to the front door, and I clicked it open as silently as I could. I didn't bother leaving him a note; he wouldn't care. So with that thought out of the way, I gingerly closed the wooden door behind me.

The smile creeping onto my lips was probably vibrant enough to account as a star in the sky as realization hit me.

I'm finally free