A three weeks has passed since The Night and things have started to die down. The repetitive obnoxious phone calls limited to about five calls per day, and letters have stopped coming in. They still sat near the edge of the door, waiting to be read.

But Brian and Roger still tried to get in, but John simply ignored them.

Today was Sunday, the holy day of church and resting.

John still sat in his bed, contemplating his will to live. He didn't feel like moving, or even breathing. Hunger attacked his stomach repeatedly over the days, but he simply ignored it. He didn't feel like leaving the house for more food, so cigarettes and alcohol is all he has.

John felt like he was doing everyone a favor by not leaving his house. He was hideous and hard to look at. The cuts scarred him everywhere possible, and his bruises looked as though they were here to stay.

The bruises have gotten darker, but that was a sign of them healing. John could walk properly again and whisper to himself. But he still felt broken.

A knock was heard from the door and john instantly ignored it. It was possibly Roger, he thought.

"John, sweetie I know you're home. I'm worried about you baby."

John recognized that voice. That caring voice he had heard from day one, the only voice he wanted to ever hear. The harmonic sound of his mother was like a symphony to John's ears.

He got up from his bed, carefully stepping over bottles and cigarettes, and walked towards the door. Before he opened it, he noticed how much of a failure he was. All the things his mother had raised him to not do, he did it all. Smoking, drinking, drugs, sex. And it all led to his current state, he should've listened.

He opened the door and instantly wrapped his arms around his small mother. Though she was taken by surprise, she quickly wrapped her arms around him. She felt John's body rack from the sobs he released onto her shoulder.

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay." She cooed. John pulled away and took a long look at his mom. He has not seen her in awhile, and he regretted that.

The sound of a throat clearing was heard from behind his mom. John looked up and found Roger and Brian standing silently to the side. He saw their eyes widen, but they didn't say anything.

His mother walked in, looking around the place in disgust.

"Oh John, you need to take good care of the space you live in." She scolded lightly. John didn't take any offense, he loved his mother dearly.

Mother started cleaning up a few things. Roger and Brian copied her.

"John, go take a shower. You smell horrible!" His mother joked, but he knew it was true. In the first time in days, he gave a little smile and did what he was told.

John walked down the short hall and entered his small bathroom. He barely used the bathroom for the past few days, only to pee. He never turned the lights on, afraid that he might see his revolting face in the mirror. But today was going to be different.

He flickered the lights and quickly stripped out his boxers. He looked in the mirror and nearly cried.

He looked dead. His rib cage was prominent through his almost translucent skin. The cuts ad bruises weren't treated properly, so they didn't look too fancy. He was extremely skinny, he resembled a skeleton.

John got into the shower and started to wash. He scrubbed every inch of his body raw, ignoring the pain that shot through him. He wanted to scrub off each ounce of remembrance of The Night from off him.

Blood ran down the drain in a swirl and john decided that was enough. He turned off the shower and washed his face. He topped everything off by brushing his teeth.

He grabbed a robe from his linen closet and draped it onto his frail body. He stepped out the bathroom and noticed how much cleaner his apartment was. The atmosphere seemed less stuffy and things were back in their designated area. He saw trash bags full of his discarded bottles and cigarette butts. He silently cringed at the thought of him mom finding those.

He walked into his room to find Roger and Brian spreading a fresh pair of sheets onto his bed. They stopped for a second and gave him a soft smile. John didn't feel like smiling.

His mother was dusting off his dresser and organizing his school trophies. She noticed him standing there and she smiled.

"Oh my brilliant little boy, look at these trophies." She cheered.

John chuckled lightly. He saw his mother holding a trash bad full of even more bottles.

"Mom, I'm sorry." He whispered as tears rushed down his cheeks. His mother hushed him.

"It's alright. Mama loves you no matter what, you're her favorite son." She whispered.

"I'm your only son." John commented.

"That's why you're my favorite." She laughed. John couldn't help but join in. He really needed his mother by his side, she made him happy.

John stood beside his mother and took out some boxers and a long t-shirt. He discretely slipped them on without his friends seeing him.

"This room looks about done." His mother commented. Roger and Brian nodded in agreement.

"Sit John, we must talk." She ordered. John listened, he had no choice.

"Roger and Brian have told me what happened. I'm not mad I swear, I'm just concerned. A child of mine shouldn't suffer like this." She started to say softly. She placed a reassuring hand on John's. John visibly tensed up and shrugged his shoulders.

"How much do you know?" He whispered.

"Enough to know you were slightly pissed and ran out the party in shock. It's okay to tell me anything else."

John wanted to so badly. He wanted to, but no one would take him seriously.

John simply shook his head and started crying once more.

"Veronica told us that you left her at the party. You broke it off with her." Roger intervened.

John felt his face burn and his hands clenched into fists.

That didn't happen, he said to himself.

"Veronica is a lying, deceiving bitch." John growled aloud. His mother smirked, she always disliked Veronica.

"Then what really happened?" Brian asked.

"She cheated on me at the party. I saw her getting nailed to the bed by some oaf. I called her out for it and..." John's voice trailed away into silence. He couldn't go on.

"...I-I can't..." he stuttered on his words. He wasn't going to embarrass himself.

"It's okay, you're still healing. Roger and I really care about you. We are just glad that you're still with us." Brian said softly. John smiled and thanked God that he had such wonderful friends.

"We should leave you two alone, none of this is our business." Roger commented as he left out with Brian. Only John's mother remained.

"When you're comfortable, we can talk about that. But what we really need to talk about it this..." she held up a used pregnancy test that read those aching results.

"I-Is this yours?" She asked in surprise. John nodded his head.

"Who's the father?" She asked. John didn't know, he didn't want to know. He was probably fucking Veronica this minute.

"Mama, I don't know. It was that stupid party. They used me, they used me." John cried out.

"Like, assault?" His mother whispered. He nodded his head and started crying harder.

John thought his mother wouldn't have believed him. A man getting sexually assaulted wasn't known to society, many people would say it's fake. But it was real, John had a constant reminder of that.

"Who did it, tell me!" His mother urged. He simply shook his head.

When he's ready, his mother thought.

"You should get some sleep. That baby needs to be taken care of. I'll buy some groceries and once you wake up, I'll have all sorts of meals made for you, okay?" His mother spoke. John smiled and rested his head on a pillow. He closed his eyes and dreamed.