I

chapter one

The meal was horribly quiet. At one end of the table, his mother sat reading the newspaper. On the opposite end, his brother was playing his Gameboy. Directly across from him, his father was staring at him. Of course Matty did not see his father watching him, but he knew. He could feel the violent eyes blazing into his skin. Dinner at the Louis house was always like this, but Matty didn't know if he would ever get used to the terrible silence.

Suddenly, his father's fork clanked against the table, and the chair scraped against the floor. Matty looked up. His father made his way towards Matty. His mother excused herself from the table, and his brother pulled out some headphones. Matty was dragged by his shirt collar into the corner of the room.

He knew it was coming. It happened every night. The huge fists found their way into his skin. The foot pounded against his body. This night, even, the blood dripped from the nose. He could feel tears of pain form in his eyes, but he bit his lip to hold them back. He would not let his father see him cry.

Life at home had not always been like this. There had been a time in his life, perhaps a very long time ago, in which his father had seemed to love him. However, his father had received a few heavy hits in his life, and at the age of five, Matty had been stricken for the very first time. After that, it seemed to have become an unkind addiction.

His brother stood up and disappeared through a doorway. A slight trace of a smile had been on his face. He seemed to take joy in his little brother's abuse. Once, several years ago, the brother had cared. He had tried to stand in the way of the father's fists, but once he received a blow to the head, he had given up. Better Matty than him, he seemed to believe, and over the years, it had become a gruesome form of entertainment.

Matty could hear his mother's whimpering cries in the other room. They carried throughout the house like death. There had been a day once in which she had consoled him. She would try to stop the abuse and comfort her son, but the father had grown angry. After a while, she had given up. Now, she would retreat to her room, within herself, and pretend that nothing was wrong at all.

Once his father had taken out all his anger and worries, he dropped his son, and Matty fell to the floor with a thump. His father sat back down at the table and whistled a happy tune. Matty stood up and brushed off his clothes. Walking to his bedroom, he sat down at the edge of the bed and placed his head in his hands. He could barely take the pain anymore. Living in a family with no love for him was torture, and he finally realized what he had to do.

He walked down the hall and opened the closet door. He reached up and moved his hand around blindly until he felt the icy cold metal against his skin. He placed the gun into his pocket and walked back to his room. He dropped the gun onto the dresser and stared into the mirror. The pale, gaunt face looked back at him. The dark eyes held such hatred and sadness. The chest rose and fell rapidly. Matty pulled off his shirt to reveal a set of ribs, and he dropped his pants around his ankles.

Standing in nothing but boxers, he ran his tongue around the metal ring on his lip. He flipped the dark hair out of his eyes and picked up the eyeliner pencil. He marked his face like one would do before going into a tribal war zone. He grabbed the gun and lay down on the bed. He placed the barrel of the gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Nothing. He looked at the gun with lowered eyes and gave it a good shake. He pulled the trigger again, and a piece of the wall fell to the floor.

He heard a scream followed by heavy footsteps. His mother came into the room and slapped him. A bloody handprint was left on his cheek. He followed her into the hallway, and he fell to his knees, a cry escaping his throat.

His demon was crumbled to the floor, mother and brother surrounding him. Without a second glance, Matty got to his feet and left the house, never to return again.

Author's Note

advanced critique appreciated

Reviews

[Anya]

Wonderfully written, I was nearly crying by the end.