You're thankful your slumber was so turbulent. If it hadn't been, you'd never have woken up for school. You really shouldn't have turned off your phone. Your brother would kill you if you got up late. Fortunately, you'd woken up at about 4 this morning and haven't been able to go back to bed since.
You sit up and stretch, rubbing your eyes that are still heavy with sleep, or lack thereof. Your eyes immediately shift to your phone, which is sitting quietly on your nightstand. Taking a deep breath, you reach over and grab it, turning on the power and mentally preparing for the onslaught of messages you'd surely received throughout the night.
But no. You're not ready for that yet. Your stomach is growling and you don't want to worry about it being tied in knots from your frazzled nerves, so you decide to eat first and put the messages on hold. You make your way to your closet and pick out a white Eminem shirt and a black hoodie with a bright red gear in the middle. Making sure to keep quiet, you slip over to your dresser and pluck a pair of red flannel boxers, light wash skinny jeans, and socks from a drawer. Tossing the clothes on your bed, you strip and redress in the clothes you'd selected. Your phone finds its way to your pocket  as you slink over to the door.
Pressing your ear gently to the wood, you listen for any signs of life. At least five minutes of silence pass before you deem it safe to exit. You flip the lock and slowly open the door, creeping into the kitchen and making sure to avoid squeaky floor boards. You swiftly gather the milk, a bowl, a spoon, and the box of Captain Crunch and fix yourself a bowl of cereal. Lacing up your Converse, you grab your bowl and tiptoe up the fire escape to the roof.
When you arrive, the moon is low in the sky and the lights of the city still twinkle in the dark. Only a few stars shine down from their perch, which sincerely disappoints you. Despite the beauty the city has to offer, you've always loved the stars. You often find yourself wishing you lived in the country side so you could fully admire them.
Plopping down on the roof, you begin to nibble on your breakfast, which eases the grumbling hunger you've felt all night. Once the cereal is gone and the milk is drained from the bowl, you finally force yourself to reach into your pocket, producing your phone. You hold your breath as you unlock it and go into your messages. You first click on John's name and begin to read the message he sent.

John: oh... hey... i guess that would be okay... meet me in one of the practice rooms in the music wing tomorrow and we can talk about it in private. okay? i'm sorry for leaving so suddenly yesterday. i guess i overreacted a little. anyway, goodnight, dave. i'll talk to you tomorrow. <3?

You subconsciously bite your nails, deciding to read Karkat's message before responding to John's. You exit your messages and go into your video chat application, clicking on Karkat's username and scanning over his texts.

Karkat: You really mean it?
Karkat: Wow. I wasn't expecting that.
Karkat: I'm really happy to know I mean so much to you. I don't get to hear things like that often.
Karkat: I guess you must already be asleep, but goodnight anyway. Sweet dreams, turntechGodhead.
Karkat: Have a good day at school in case I don't get the chance to talk to you in the morning.
Karkat: I hope you can somewhat salvage your friendship with your ex(?)
Karkat: I can tell he means a great deal to you.
Karkat: Oh, and by the way...
Karkat: I think I love you, too.
Karkat: <3

Your heart flutters in your chest as you reread those last two lines. 'I think I love you, too. <3' You can't help but grin like an idiot. Thank you, past self, for accidentally telling him that you love him. For once, you didn't fuck everything up. Then you remember one detail you hadn't thought of before.
John.
Shit. You still have to reply to him, don't you? But what are you going to say? You pause a moment think, then decide it would be best to just let the words flow naturally. You pull up his contact and open his messages before typing:

You: ill totally meet you man. im sorry too. I was an ass. I just think we should hold off on all the "<3" stuff until we figure this all out. ill see you once i get to school.

You press the power button and slip your phone back into your pocket before grabbing your bowl and rising to your feet. You cautiously make your way down the fire escape and back into the apartment, expertly maneuvering through the house and into the kitchen.
You'd just set the bowl down in the sink when you felt a strong hand grip your shoulder. That alone almost causes you to piss your pants. You're reluctant to look back, for you already know who it is, but you know that you'll be punished for not acknowledging him.
Taking a deep breath, you turn around to face him. This is when you're dealt a harsh blow to the head, causing you to stumble back against the counter. You catch yourself just in time, using the counter to hold yourself up as you raise a hand to your face or, more specifically, your eye. You glance up at the man before you, wincing in pain as you do so. His voice causes you to jump, though it's eerily calm.
"Mind telling me what you were doing with this?" Your brother asks as he holds up the condom you'd taken from his room.
"I-I wasn't--" you yelp as you're slapped across the face.
"Striders don't stutter. Stand up straight and speak like a man," he says nonchalantly.
You shakily force yourself to stand up straight, swallowing the lump in your throat as you attempt to steady your voice. "I wasn't going to use it--"
"Don't lie to me you little bastard," he replies as he smacks you again. "Who were you going to fuck?"
"J... John..." You hiss through gritted teeth, tears pricking your eyes. This earns you another slap to the face.
"Striders don't cry."
You look away, wiping off the tears. "Sorry..."
Smack.
"Sorry what?"
"Sorry, sir--"
Smack.
"You know better than to use all that proper shit with me."
"Sorry, Bro--"
Smack.
"Look me in the eyes and apologize."
You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, then force yourself to squint up at your brother through the throbbing pain in your head. "I'm sorry, Bro."
He grabs you by the hair and drives his knee into your stomach, causing the air to flee from your lungs. When he releases you, you fall onto your hands and knees, coughing up blood onto the kitchen floor. Before you have a chance to even think about standing, Bro's foot slams down on your back. Your hands slip from under your body, your face colliding with the floor. "You'd better clean up that fucking blood, you filthy little disgrace." He removes his weight from your back and continues. "Then clean yourself up and come into the living room. You've got five minutes." You wait until his footsteps recede into the other room before you even dare try to move.
It takes all your willpower to grab the paper towels and tidy the floor. It takes a miracle to stumble to the bathroom to tend to your wounds. Despite the disgust you feel after every beating, you make yourself look into the mirror.
Your now swollen eye is already turning black and blue and your lip is split. Your cheeks are bright red and your ears are ringing. The pain is so severe that you're forced to kneel in front of the toilet to vomit before you can do anything else. Once the tremors of your body calm, you stand again and clean yourself up with the first aid kit, though there isn't much you can do. You're worried your brother is going to punish you for not attending to yourself well enough, but you're running out of time. You take three pain killers and stumble out to the living room, reminding yourself to make eye contact. "I did the best I could," you assure him.
He rises from the couch and makes his way to you, gently gripping your chin as he tilts your head to inspect the damage. "Really did a number on you, didn't I?" Though you can't see the look in his eyes, his voice shows an undertone of remorse. You only nod, hoping maybe this will make him change his ways.
If only.
In an instant, the hand that held your chin moved down to your throat, gripping you tightly as his voice turned cold once more. "You know better than to breathe even a single word of this to anyone. At least I would hope. You know the story you're to tell if anyone asks, but you aren't leaving the house today. You're staying home from school. I'll call you in sick. Do you understand me?"
You claw at his hand, desperate for air. You nod with what little strength you still possess. Your struggling seems to satisfy him enough to release you, leaving you gasping and wheezing on the floor. "Good. I'm going out. I'll be home later. Leave this house and you'll regret it." And with that, he leaves you coughing and choking on the floor, locking the front door behind him as he goes.