Chapter Text
Purple ducked as his father's fist approached him, stumbling backward as he dodged it, his eyes trembling as he saw the angry expression contort on Navy's face.
"Don't avoid me! If you consider yourself a real man, come and act like one!" Navy shouted furiously, trudging heavily towards him.
The teenager's heart was beating fast; he felt like a stupid worm, crawling on the ground to avoid being stepped on, looking for any gap or hole to hide in and try to protect himself.
Purple could no longer move; he had been cornered in his own living room, like prey being attacked by a predator.
His chest tightened with pain, not from the blows he was about to receive, but from the routine he already knew. He couldn't move more than two centimeters; a growing sense of anxiety invaded his entire body, making his eyes sting. It meant he was going to cry, and he didn't want that.
He tried to get up in complete panic, but before he could stand, a kick landed hard in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him instantly.
He felt bile rising from his throat to his mouth; if Purple hadn't made such an effort, he really would have vomited right then and there.
"Are you a faggot?" the adult yelled, grabbing the collar of his shirt and lifting him off the floor, dragging him across the living room floor. "Only girls cry like that, have some manhood."
He looked at his father's face, his teeth were clenched, almost grinding against each other, his blue eyes were darker than usual, his face, marked by adulthood and violence, had an almost terrifying expression.
"Dad, wait-" he could barely utter three words before being pushed backward, his head hitting directly against the glass tabletop.
From then on, everything became blurry for Purple; he could only hear his father's screams and his own. His body went numb to the impact of the blows, allowing him to dissociate himself from that scene.
A scene that had been repeated over and over and over again.
── .✦
Silence filled the room of the purple-haired man; his mind was nothing but a sequence of his own silence, as dark and terrifying as the winter cold could be. He felt the absence of warmth, of affection, of approval.
His heart beat with a painful slowness, and his brain, as tired as his body, was finally able to process that discomfort.
The crying came out contained in a sob; all the emotions he was trying to hold back manifested in the sound of the crying, a sound he tried to stifle as soon as he heard it, covering his mouth with his hand.
His whole body began to tremble without him being able to stop it; he could only hug himself to relieve some of the loneliness that overwhelmed him.
He buried his face in the pillow, muffling the sound of his sobs. He wanted to scream, to kick, maybe even to smash something. Anything that could help calm him down would do, but he couldn't do anything, leaving him with a feeling of helplessness inside.
Finally, his crying subsided, and his breathing, which had been hyperventilating just moments before, became regular. He only let out small, intermittent hiccups as he finally stopped crying.
Purple took a deep breath and turned to look at his nightstand. On it sat a family photo: his father held him with one arm as a baby, while his mother took his father's hand and leaned in to kiss his smiling younger self on the cheek.
He sighed to himself as he looked at his mother in the photograph; the thought of seeing her filled what little strength he had left.
He clenched his teeth as a sharp pain shot through his head; he'd forgotten to take his pills. Maybe he should put an ice pack on the back of his neck.
He got up cautiously, knowing that his father would be asleep and he wouldn't have to see him until the next morning, or most likely, until night.
He went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and an ice pack from the freezer, and headed to his room, now that he had everything he needed. He needed to go to sleep; tomorrow could be a new day.
I wished for a better one.