#tw abusive household
No. 25 - HIDE & SEEK
escape | flight | hiding
“Faolan!”
Fao stiffened at his desk, but didn’t say anything. If he didn’t react, maybe Tomas would think he wasn’t home. It was a long shot, but he had to try. It felt childish, to hide. But what else could he do?
“Faolan! I know you’re in there, you stupid fag! You can’t hide from me!” Tomas growled. “You’ve been stealing my cigs, you cunt!”
Fao bit his lip. He knew he shouldn’t take them, hell, he knew he shouldn’t smoke them at all. But there was a thrill to taking them from his uncle, and they really did help him out when he was stressed.
He had so much work to do, his GCSEs looming, that he frankly didn’t have time for Tomas being Tomas. He had pages of maths homework to do, and a French essay he’d not even started yet.
Tomas stopped shouting, and it seemed like he’d forgotten about Fao and the missing cigarettes. Fao managed to do his maths homework, even get halfway through his French essay and was considering going to bed when the door swung open and in burst his uncle.
“You’re gonna pay, you fuckin’ cunt!” He growled, clutching a mostly empty bottle of vodka.
Fao flinched, dropping his pen with a clatter. “Please, I…”
“Please!” Tomas mocked, laughing.
“I’ll buy more!” He protested.
“You’ve done enough, fag.” He slurred.
Despite being drunk, Tomas moved quickly, grabbing Fao and pulling him off of his chair. Fao’s knees scuffed on the floor and his breath caught in his throat. Fao managed to fight back a little then, stronger now than he had been as a younger boy.
But his fighting only served to make Tomas angrier, and after a few kicks to his ribs, Fao was gasping for breath. His side burned, his chest was tight, and he struggled to speak between trying not to cry and trying to stop the room from spinning.
He managed to kick the bottle from Tomas’ hand, thinking it would stop him. But instead, the bottle shattered on the hard wooden floor.
“You always ruin everything! Stupid cunt!” Tomas snapped, grabbing what was left of the bottle. The neck and part of the top were mostly intact, and he closed his fist around it. “I should’ve got rid of you like I did to your Da.”
This time, instead of the kick Fao was waiting for, Tomas pushed the broken bottle into his face and then kicked him to the floor. The glass caught just below his eye, where blood immediately welled up.
Fao cried out in pain, clutching at his face. He curled up on the floor then, surrounded by vodka and broken glass, trying to stop the sobs that escaped him. It was weak to cry. Tomas got angry when he cried.
But he couldn’t help himself. There was blood everywhere, and for a moment he was panicked he couldn’t see. But the world shifted back into focus eventually, and his sobs fell silent. His uncle was gone, apparently satisfied with his punishment.
He knew he needed to move, to get up and go to bed. But he didn’t trust his legs to hold him, and if he made a fuss Tomas might come back. If he didn’t move, and stayed put, maybe he’d be okay. He couldn’t do anything else.
