---Patrick---

Nobody cares, I think as Kevin slams the door shut behind him, the taste of him still on my red, swollen lips. Nobody cares. Bitter, ugly. That taste I can never seem to wash out of my mouth no matter how many times I brush my teeth or wash my mouth with mouthwash, it's always there like the sin will never leave me. Reminding me of just how filthy I am. A toy. A slut. Something to help him get off. A faggot. A pig. I deserve it. I deserve it all.

I'm on the bed, now, sprawled out with bruises all over my body, especially on my shoulders and arms. He'd ended up just face fucking me onto the bed because I couldn't hold still for him like a "good slut". My scalp is sore, I can still feel his fingers digging into the back of my head, forcing my mouth further onto him while I could only choke and sob silently. He'd usually slap me if I made too much noise. My jaw aches, my lungs burn, my knees probably have a rug burn...

Everything he says is true. I'm pathetic. I deserve to die because of how pathetic I am. Just a worthless faggot. A pig. The streams of insults he cussed out when he was almost finished are still burning into the back of my mind like scars that will never heal. Whore. Slut. Fag. Pet. Toy.

I feel so disgusting because every last thing he does to me is my fault. It's all my fault. It's my fault that he wants to use me. If I just hadn't caused The Incident, if I would just die already... I wouldn't have to go through this. I'm a filthy piece of trash. I can't blame it on anyone else. I deserve it. It's my fault...

Tears rise to my eyes as I huddle into a ball, trying to protect myself from the rest of the world. My headphones are lying on the floor somewhere since Kevin had yanked them out halfway through telling me to, "Listen to what he had to say, Slut."

My phone is still in my pocket with the note Gerard gave me on the bus. I don't feel like taking it out quite yet. I just want to recover for a little bit. I want to forget. I want to heal even though I can't... I just want to catch my breath.

I wipe my tears from my eyes with my scarred wrist, trying to muffle my sobs along with it. Trying to stop anyone from knowing the pain I feel. They don't need to hear something as stupid as me complaining about something I deserve.

I shudder as the scent of tears gather in my nose, salty, and my arms tighten, hugging myself closer, wanting comfort but nobody is there but me, myself, and I. I'm alone. I'm a goner... I have no chance of ever finding someone. Not even a friend. Obviously, Gerard is just acting nice to me out of pity. I know it. Nobody has ever loved me or liked me or even wanted to talk to me. How was I so blind? How was I so happy three years ago? How was I just so... content?

The tears have stopped and now I just stare at the backs of my eyelids. Maybe I can just sleep it off, try to sleep off the taste and the self-loathing. Try to sleep off my loneliness. Sleep off the sin...

I don't know how long my eyes are shut for. Maybe five minutes, maybe an hour, but I can't sleep. I'm just staring into the back of my eyelids which might as well be headlights. I don't feel tired even though sleep helps me forget. I can get lost in my dreams and not reality. I can pretend like The Incident never happened and everything is okay but I know I don't deserve bliss like that. I deserve to be weighed down of every second of every day. I better make the most of it while I can...

Maybe I should text Gerard.

I bite my lip as my eyes open again and I reach into my back pocket to pull out my phone and the small paper along with it. My hands place the two items on my bed in front of me and unfold the paper, careful not to rip the fragile sheet. And there it is, the phone number, clear as day.

It's fake.

No, it's not.

Then try it, idiot. It's gonna be fake.

I sigh before taking my headphones from the ground and plugging them back into my phone. I'm probably going to be here for a while if Gerard does reply.

"I'm all busted up
Broken bones and nasty cuts
Accidents will happen
But this time I can't get up," My breathing hitches at the words as they are spoken through my ears. They really do apply to my life.

That's a little scary.

I try to let the small feeling of dread pass and instead, I type in my passcode, unlocking my phone before tapping the messaging icon.

New message, his number, my fingers focusing on getting each digit correct before I type in the actual message. I purse my lips in thought, scared I'll say the wrong thing and mess up.

I finally just type in a message and send it, hoping it's simple enough.

Patrick: Hello? It's Patrick you gave me your number on the bus.

I wait. One minute passes and I'm already starting to get nervous. What if he gave me the wrong number? What if he meant to do it? What if he thinks I'm weird for messaging him so quickly? What if I messaged him too slow? What if-

Gerard: hi :)

Oh... Maybe he is okay with me.

You wish. You're so fucking stupid, you know it, too. Filthy, pathetic, worthless pig.

Gerard: I just want to apologize. I shouldn't have tried to get into your business, and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to...

I ponder the thought for a moment. Yeah, it was kind of uncomfortable talking on the bus, especially when I mentioned The Incident but it was comforting to know that he at least partially understood my feelings. Why I pushed my friends away, why I cut, why it hurts...

Patrick: No it's fine. You didn't really make me uncomfortable. I don't mind talking about it

I'm hesitant to send it. Does that sound right? Do I sound too weird? My finger hits the send button before I can change my mind again.

Gerard: Alright... So what are you doing right now?

Sitting in bed crying about the fact that my brother just molested me because I decided to come home and how I could have easily avoided it. Laying huddled in a ball to protect me from the world. Wishing I would just die. Hating everything that's happened since The Incident.

Out of nowhere, I see my door swing open, and I immediately sit up straight with my back against the wall, vulnerable. I'm afraid that it's Kevin again. I'm afraid that it's Dad. I'm afraid and weak. I don't like feeling vulnerable. I don't like feeling this way at all, at a loss of control where everything that happens is against my will, and I can say "Stop" as many times as I want, it'll never work. I glance to my door, fear in my movements as I completely forget about Gerard.

Megan walks in, sympathy in her eyes. I realize she probably heard Kevin and I. Kevin's moans and sighs and my whimpers and sobs and a sigh of relief leaves my mouth as I relax slightly.

"Are you okay?" She asks, her voice frail and soft. She shuts the door behind herself. But soon after, she blushes and swallows, her eyes on me, "Y-You have a little something right there..."

She gestures to her chin, and I wipe my own chin with my finger, confused. I see the white residue and blush, too. Embarrassed that I didn't see it sooner. Embarrassed that I deserved such nasty things. Embarrassed that it happened in the first place.

I wipe it on the rim of my trash can before laying back down in bed, tears gathering in my eyes.

Megan is my little sister. She's 13, but that doesn't mean she doesn't get beaten, too. Usually, I'm able to get Dad or Kevin to take it out on me, but some nights, she's their main target. I can't stop them. It makes me feel bad that I can't stop them. It makes me feel out of control again.

Over the years, we've both made a mutual relationship. A shoulder to cry on and someone to talk to. Other than that we fend for ourselves. I'm not sure what Kevin's done to her, she doesn't talk about it if he has done something sexual, but I try not to ask. If she doesn't want to talk about it, that's okay. I don't want to talk about it either.

She sits down on the bed beside me, her blonde hair reaching her lower back, just above her hips and a sad smile on her pink lips.

"I'm sorry," She starts, trying to comfort me with a hand rubbing her arm, "I'm sorry... He does that to... I wanted to stop him but... It's really messed up..."

Broken sentences and broken minds and broken spirits. We're all a broken family now full of, "I'm sorry's," and, "We'll get better someday's." My phone buzzes, making me blush. I take it from the sheets of the bed as I reply, "It's fine... I mean it's not like I can really do anything..."

Gerard: Are you still there?

Patrick: Give me a sec...

"Who is that?" She asks, gazing at my phone. She seems genuinely interested, so I decide to answer.

"A friend... I met him at school today..." I reply, Gerard's image coming to mind. His black hair, his happy smile, his bright green eyes, "I think I like him..."

I don't mean it like I'm his friend and I like him as a person (even though I do). Oh god, no. I mean it in a completely different way. I mean it in a cheesy way. Like the way, you'd see in a teen romance novel. I like him in a way that made me question my sexuality. In a way that puts a weird feeling in my stomach and makes my throat close up in excitement.

Megan doesn't take it in the way I intended but that's alright, she doesn't need to. I'd like to keep it a secret for a while, "He sounds like a nice guy..."

"He is," I reply, a sad smile on my face. The smile that says it'll all work out in the end, but for now you just have to make the most of what you have. That's the type of emotion Megan and I have shared for the past three years since The Incident. That sad smile is a symbol of our family. I'm sorry is our motto.

Almost as if she can read my thoughts, she pulls me up, so I sit on the edge of the bed beside her and words flow from her lips, the meaning is warm and hopeful and full of... Megan. She's always been so positive and I thank her for that. For cheering me up when I didn't think I could be. But this time, I think it's different, "We're going to make it through this, Patrick. I promise. The pain will end eventually and we can leave and find new people. Keep calm, it's going to get better and in the end, it'll all work out."

She says it in such a gentle, strong voice. That voice always comforted me when I most needed it. It helped me cry, and it even made me laugh sometimes. That voice is so much stronger than me. Unbroken and undefeated. I don't understand sometimes. How can she still have so much hope?

Right now, it's not what I need. I just needed to cry. But I don't want to do it in front of Megan. I want to be with Gerard. I want him here, holding me while I cry into his arms and let all my emotions out. All these emotions I've been bottling up for years. Emotions that I just want to let out. Enough that I want to scream from the top of my lungs and show everyone how the world has messed me up. How broken and tattered and torn I am.

You're such an idiot, Patrick. The biggest fuck up ever. He'll never love you, faggot. Who could love someone like you? Who could ever love someone like you?

"I'm sorry, Megan. Can you go? I'm not really in the mood right now..." I say, my head down.

"Huh?" She seems slightly sad about that, maybe a little surprised but she still replies, "O-okay, that's fine. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

I nod, giving her a long, drawn out hug before she leaves my room to go straight across the hall into her own. I guess Dad told her to stay there for the evening. He usually does...

I feel guilty for telling her to leave but I really just need to think and try to relax. I need to forget for a while. I need to release. Even just a little. So, I turn the volume up on the song playing, the lyrics blasting through my ears, the drums thumping to the beat of my heart, the guitar backing up the meaningful words, and the bass bringing me to complete peace.

And I find myself dozing off. Scars hidden with my worries behind Green Day's lyrics.

"I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever know,
Don't know where it goes, but it's only me and I walk alone.
I walk this empty street on the boulevard of broken dreams
When the city sleeps, and it's only me and I walk alone..."***

Patrick
***

Kevin slams the door shut behind him, the taste of him still on my red, swollen lips. Bitter, ugly. That taste I can never seem to wash out of my mouth no matter how many times I brush my teeth or wash my mouth with mouthwash, it's always there like the sin will never leave me. Reminding me of just how filthy I am. A toy. A slut. Something to help him get off. A faggot. A pig. I deserve it. I deserve it all.

I'm on the bed, now, sprawled out with bruises all over my body, especially on my shoulders and arms. He'd ended up just face fucking me onto the bed because I couldn't hold still for him like a "good slut". My scalp is sore, I can still feel his fingers digging into the back of my head, forcing my mouth further onto him while I could only choke and sob silently. He'd usually slap me if I made too much noise. My jaw aches, my lungs burn, my knees probably have a rug burn...

Everything he says is true. I'm pathetic. I deserve to die because of how pathetic I am. Just a worthless faggot. A pig. The streams of insults he cussed out when he was almost finished are still burning into the back of my mind like scars that will never heal. Whore. Slut. Fag. Pet. Toy.

I feel so disgusting because every last thing he does to me is my fault. It's all my fault. It's my fault that he wants to use me. If I just hadn't caused The Incident, if I would just die already... I wouldn't have to go through this. I'm a filthy piece of trash. I can't blame it on anyone else. I deserve it. It's my fault...

Tears rise to my eyes as I huddle into a ball, trying to protect myself from the rest of the world. My headphones are lying on the floor somewhere since Kevin had yanked them out halfway through telling me to, "Listen to what he had to say, Slut."

My phone is still in my pocket with the note Gerard gave me on the bus. I don't feel like taking it out quite yet. I just want to recover for a little bit. I want to forget. I want to heal even though I can't... I just want to catch my breath.

I wipe my tears from my eyes with my scarred wrist, trying to muffle my sobs along with it. Trying to stop anyone from knowing the pain I feel. They don't need to hear something as stupid as me complaining about something I deserve.

I shudder as the scent of tears gather in my nose, salty, and my arms tighten, hugging myself closer, wanting comfort but nobody is there but me, myself, and I. I'm alone. I'm a goner... I have no chance of ever finding someone. Not even a friend. Obviously, Gerard is just acting nice to me out of pity. I know it. Nobody has ever loved me or liked me or even wanted to talk to me. How was I so blind? How was I so happy three years ago? How was I just so... content?

The tears have stopped and now I just stare at the backs of my eyelids. Maybe I can just sleep it off, try to sleep off the taste and the self-loathing. Try to sleep off my loneliness. Sleep off the sin...

I don't know how long my eyes are shut for. Maybe five minutes, maybe an hour, but I can't sleep. I'm just staring into the back of my eyelids which might as well be headlights. I don't feel tired even though sleep helps me forget. I can get lost in my dreams and not reality. I can pretend like The Incident never happened and everything is okay but I know I don't deserve bliss like that. I deserve to be weighed down of every second of every day. I better make the most of it while I can...

Maybe I should text Gerard.

I bite my lip as my eyes open again and I reach into my back pocket to pull out my phone and the small paper along with it. My hands place the two items on my bed in front of me and unfold the paper, careful not to rip the fragile sheet. And there it is, the phone number, clear as day.

It's fake.

No, it's not.

Then try it, idiot. It's gonna be fake.

I sigh before taking my headphones from the ground and plugging them back into my phone. I'm probably going to be here for a while if Gerard does reply.

"I'm all busted up
Broken bones and nasty cuts
Accidents will happen
But this time I can't get up," My breathing hitches at the words as they are spoken through my ears. They really do apply to my life.

That's a little scary.

I try to let the small feeling of dread pass and instead, I type in my passcode, unlocking my phone before tapping the messaging icon.

New message, his number, my fingers focusing on getting each digit correct before I type in the actual message. I purse my lips in thought, scared I'll say the wrong thing and mess up.

I finally just type in a message and send it, hoping it's simple enough.

Patrick: Hello? It's Patrick you gave me your number on the bus.

I wait. One minute passes and I'm already starting to get nervous. What if he gave me the wrong number? What if he meant to do it? What if he thinks I'm weird for messaging him so quickly? What if I messaged him too slow? What if-

Gerard: hi :)

Oh... Maybe he is okay with me.

You wish. You're so fucking stupid, you know it, too. Filthy, pathetic, worthless pig.

Gerard: I just want to apologize. I shouldn't have tried to get into your business, and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to...

I ponder the thought for a moment. Yeah, it was kind of uncomfortable talking on the bus, especially when I mentioned The Incident but it was comforting to know that he at least partially understood my feelings. Why I pushed my friends away, why I cut, why it hurts...

Patrick: No it's fine. You didn't really make me uncomfortable. I don't mind talking about it

I'm hesitant to send it. Does that sound right? Do I sound too weird? My finger hits the send button before I can change my mind again.

Gerard: Alright... So what are you doing right now?

Sitting in bed crying about the fact that my brother just molested me because I decided to come home and how I could have easily avoided it. Laying huddled in a ball to protect me from the world. Wishing I would just die. Hating everything that's happened since The Incident.

Out of nowhere, I see my door swing open, and I immediately sit up straight with my back against the wall, vulnerable. I'm afraid that it's Kevin again. I'm afraid that it's Dad. I'm afraid and weak. I don't like feeling vulnerable. I don't like feeling this way at all, at a loss of control where everything that happens is against my will, and I can say "Stop" as many times as I want, it'll never work. I glance to my door, fear in my movements as I completely forget about Gerard.

Megan walks in, sympathy in her eyes. I realize she probably heard Kevin and I. Kevin's moans and sighs and my whimpers and sobs and a sigh of relief leaves my mouth as I relax slightly.

"Are you okay?" She asks, her voice frail and soft. She shuts the door behind herself. But soon after, she blushes and swallows, her eyes on me, "Y-You have a little something right there..."

She gestures to her chin, and I wipe my own chin with my finger, confused. I see the white residue and blush, too. Embarrassed that I didn't see it sooner. Embarrassed that I deserved such nasty things. Embarrassed that it happened in the first place.

I wipe it on the rim of my trash can before laying back down in bed, tears gathering in my eyes.

Megan is my little sister. She's 13, but that doesn't mean she doesn't get beaten, too. Usually, I'm able to get Dad or Kevin to take it out on me, but some nights, she's their main target. I can't stop them. It makes me feel bad that I can't stop them. It makes me feel out of control again.

Over the years, we've both made a mutual relationship. A shoulder to cry on and someone to talk to. Other than that we fend for ourselves. I'm not sure what Kevin's done to her, she doesn't talk about it if he has done something sexual, but I try not to ask. If she doesn't want to talk about it, that's okay. I don't want to talk about it either.

She sits down on the bed beside me, her blonde hair reaching her lower back, just above her hips and a sad smile on her pink lips.

"I'm sorry," She starts, trying to comfort me with a hand rubbing her arm, "I'm sorry... He does that to... I wanted to stop him but... It's really messed up..."

Broken sentences and broken minds and broken spirits. We're all a broken family now full of, "I'm sorry's," and, "We'll get better someday's." My phone buzzes, making me blush. I take it from the sheets of the bed as I reply, "It's fine... I mean it's not like I can really do anything..."

Gerard: Are you still there?

Patrick: Give me a sec...

"Who is that?" She asks, gazing at my phone. She seems genuinely interested, so I decide to answer.

"A friend... I met him at school today..." I reply, Gerard's image coming to mind. His black hair, his happy smile, his bright green eyes, "I think I like him..."

I don't mean it like I'm his friend and I like him as a person (even though I do). Oh god, no. I mean it in a completely different way. I mean it in a cheesy way. Like the way, you'd see in a teen romance novel. I like him in a way that made me question my sexuality. In a way that puts a weird feeling in my stomach and makes my throat close up in excitement.

Megan doesn't take it in the way I intended but that's alright, she doesn't need to. I'd like to keep it a secret for a while, "He sounds like a nice guy..."

"He is," I reply, a sad smile on my face. The smile that says it'll all work out in the end, but for now you just have to make the most of what you have. That's the type of emotion Megan and I have shared for the past three years since The Incident. That sad smile is a symbol of our family. I'm sorry is our motto.

Almost as if she can read my thoughts, she pulls me up, so I sit on the edge of the bed beside her and words flow from her lips, the meaning is warm and hopeful and full of... Megan. She's always been so positive and I thank her for that. For cheering me up when I didn't think I could be. But this time, I think it's different, "We're going to make it through this, Patrick. I promise. The pain will end eventually and we can leave and find new people. Keep calm, it's going to get better and in the end, it'll all work out."

She says it in such a gentle, strong voice. That voice always comforted me when I most needed it. It helped me cry, and it even made me laugh sometimes. That voice is so much stronger than me. Unbroken and undefeated. I don't understand sometimes. How can she still have so much hope?

Right now, it's not what I need. I just needed to cry. But I don't want to do it in front of Megan. I want to be with Gerard. I want him here, holding me while I cry into his arms and let all my emotions out. All these emotions I've been bottling up for years. Emotions that I just want to let out. Enough that I want to scream from the top of my lungs and show everyone how the world has messed me up. How broken and tattered and torn I am.

You're such an idiot, Patrick. The biggest fuck up ever. He'll never love you, faggot. Who could love someone like you? Who could ever love someone like you?

"I'm sorry, Megan. Can you go? I'm not really in the mood right now..." I say, my head down.

"Huh?" She seems slightly sad about that, maybe a little surprised but she still replies, "O-okay, that's fine. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

I nod, giving her a long, drawn out hug before she leaves my room to go straight across the hall into her own. I guess Dad told her to stay there for the evening. He usually does...

I feel guilty for telling her to leave but I really just need to think and try to relax. I need to forget for a while. I need to release. Even just a little. So, I turn the volume up on the song playing, the lyrics blasting through my ears, the drums thumping to the beat of my heart, the guitar backing up the meaningful words, and the bass bringing me to complete peace.

And I find myself dozing off. Scars hidden with my worries behind Green Day's lyrics.

"I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever know,
Don't know where it goes, but it's only me and I walk alone.
I walk this empty street on the boulevard of broken dreams
When the city sleeps, and it's only me and I walk alone..."