John pov

Alone in my dark room, hot and stuffy.

Distant yells from downstairs, meaningless and empty.

Mom tires and reasons, Dad argues and ignores.

I sit on my bed. Listening to them bicker. My head heavy and eyes staring intently at a wall. I feel a headache forming in my head, but i ignore it. I just wish they would stop. The constant stream of yelling, it's unbearable.

For fucks sake, there is children in this house who are under the age of 13. They dont need to hear this shit from their parents. There are some nights where i just hug my siblings to sleep because there scared, and that's just messed up.

I sigh, and decided to pop in my ear buds to drown out the talking/yelling. But just before i clicked on my music app, i heard a loud bang, then silence.

I froze.

Crying slowly broke the silence.

The type of crying that sounds like pain, and it broke my heart when i figured out what went down..

My blood boiled, but at the same time i wanted to scream and sob..

Dad hit mom.

The world stopped turning, everything is a blur. My racing heart and breaths being the only thing i hear. Heavy footsteps dragging up the steps, the buckle of a belt ringing echoing. I sit still, so scared and frozen. Should i hide? Run? I don't know.

The door slams open, my time is up. I don't dare look him in the eyes. He's a man of twisted anger that makes me shiver. I know his face isn't happy right now, its twisted up into a drunk growl. His mind being consumed by the whiskey he drank, controlling him to hurt others to make his pain stop.

My dad never hit me before, but this particular night, i experienced what that was finally like whether i wanted to or not. It was just a simple wack across my freckled face. Stung and left a mark. Tears of pain filled my eyes, as i lifted them to meet his..

Shocked,  i couldn't understand his face. He was the father of 4 children. Never once really mean, but this was new.. I saw regret in those hazel eyes, but the whiskey was doing a great job of masking it.

That night, i didn't speak a word. I layed on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Replaying the scene over and over in my head. Mom was hiding, but her cries never went away. I wanted to hug her so bad, but i was glued to my mattress as if something was under my bed ready to kill me.

This wasn't the night i had planned. I planned on laying in my bed, comfy and chill, trying to ignore my parents arguing, (which im kinda use to now) not this whole other event of physical abuse and verbal.

Everyone thinks the jock has such a easy going life, but little do they know i really don't. What would Alex think if he found out about this anyways? Feel pity for me or make fun of me and think im lying?

As these questions run through my head, i slowly slip into slumber.

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Not the best chapter but its longer does that count-

tHiS whoLe stOrY iS goiNg nOwhErE hoNestLy,,, ;-;

-hiL