No Regrets (boyxboy - Bridegroom fanfiction - romance)

Part 3

I could’ve died.

Luckily, I didn’t. Even I myself couldn’t believe it when I woke up in hospital.

My parents were there. They was worried about me, but they insisted on not letting me see Chris. Only Emily got to meet me.

I stayed there for weeks, feeling all angry and stupid. I missed Chris badly.

So when the doctor told me I could leave in a few days, I was thrilled.

The night before the day I got out, I remember drinking a bottle of orange juice my mother gave me. Then I sleep. For a really long time.

When I woke up, I was no longer in hospital. I was in my room at my parents’ house. The door's locked.

“Mom! Dad!” I slammed the door.

“What’s wrong Ethan?” My mother replied from outside.

“Why am I here? And why is the door locked?”

“You’re staying here for a while.”

“But my school?”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re staying until you are freed of your sin.”

That’s when I noticed. My parents took advantage of my accident to separate me from Chris. All because of their selfish, stubborn thoughts. I went mad. I threw things around. I even managed to kick down the door.

I ran out of my room, heading for the main door. My mother blocked my way, but I shoved her back. My dad ran out of the kitchen, carrying a pan. He hit me. I lost conscious again.

When I woke up, my head aching, I found myself in the room again. This time I got handcuffed to the bed.

I remember yelling at the top of my lung for help. I was mad, I was scared. My dad went in my room and beat me badly. He fed me a sleeping pill. I fell asleep again.

Maybe I had slept for days.

When I woke up, the door’d already been replaced. A tape was over my mouth. I struggled to get it off, then shouted again.

No reply.

I burst into tears. I’m imprisoned. I didn’t even do anything bad. Now I couldn't get out.

And I’d never see Chris again.

That idea struck me hard, making me bawl my eyes out.

That night, mom went to my place to feed me. I didn’t eat. I spit on the plate, I cursed her and his husband. She slapped me. She threw the plate on me. She called me the spawn of the devil. She left.

Later that night, she returned. She apologized, and cried. I didn’t show any sympathy. She tried to feed me again. I still didn’t eat. She left crying.

I was completely wrecked by then.

I actually thought of commiting suicide. Or cutting my hands off to escape. But I couldn’t. I was not insane enough.

The night was painful. Both mentally and physically. When the morning came, my mother appeared again. She unlocked my handcuff.

Before she could do anything, I ran. She yelled after me. She called my father.

I ain’t getting caught again. I ran out of the house and started shouting for help.

A large bunch of people saw me before my father caught up. He beat me horribly. But the police came in time.

I was barely concious back then. I remember my father pulling out a gun. He threatened to kill me if anyone come near. I was lucky to be too numb to be scared.

A policeman tackled him from behind. He struggled, tried to aim the gun at me. Then came a loud bang.

I felt pain. The policemen rushed in to knock my father down.

At that moment I thought: “Great, I got shot. What kind of dad shoot his own son?”

 

Then it’s all black again.