Trevor POV

I sighed to myself as I laid in my bed, I heard the shower turn on and smiled as I knew Marti was going to be in there for a while.

He doesn't need to see me like this.

I looked at my watch and saw it was 12:03 AM.

Today is my mother's birthday and the day of her death.

She was a... different kind of person as most would describe her.

It makes sense why my brain is so fucked up being raised by my mother and father.

It's the usual tragic story you'd hear from an incredibly broken man.

Father was a drunken coke head. Mother was an emotional meth addict.

My mother was kind however, she just had no idea what she was doing when she was raising me. She was too addicted to see that I was starving every day. Having to beg my father for table scraps every now and then, because I'd be in trouble if I took anything but tap water from the kitchen.

The house was small, in the middle of the woods, and crumbling from years of water damage and termite infestations. There was only one bedroom and I had to sleep on the living room couch every night. The kitchen cabinet doors were ripped off a long time ago. Only one burner on the stove worked. Forget the oven. The fridge only chilled to 56'F. The bathroom door didn't exist, it was a stained shower curtain. Every time it rained, the carpet would flood and become moldy. It was never clean, roaches would constantly be in the house, crawling on the sinks, in the shower, and on the walls.

I honestly don't know how I survived living in that house for so long.

I gripped the razor knife in my hand as I studied it. I swiped the brand new bottle of whiskey off the bedside table, then I stepped out of bed and walked out of the room, closing the door behind me gently and walked into the red room. I closed the door behind me and walked over to the couch.

I sat down on the couch and looked at the razor in my hand again, then at the bottle. I cracked the top off and took gulp after gulp quickly, letting it burn down my throat as I kept drinking as much as I could until I coughed, some liquid splattering out of my mouth, onto my basketball shorts. I shook my head violently and brought the bottle back up. I took more gulps until I finally finished it off. I dropped the bottle at my feet, which still held old faded gash marks from broken glass. I laid down on the couch and stared at the blade as my mind went elsewhere.

The stench of smoke and liquor filled my nose. The rain pouring outside on our tin roof, thunder rumbling down. The musty walls had begun to fall and crack as this house was barely cleaned or fixed. My stomach ached with pain as it was near empty. I looked down at my famished body in the foggy broken mirror on the bathroom floor. I could see my entire rib cage and hip bones popping out.

"You're so handsome," my mother sang as she rubbed down my shoulders.

"I am?" I asked confused as I looked up at her in the mirror. Her face distorted from the smashed glass. Crooked smile dawning her face.

"Yes dear, you have the same eyes as your papa," she gave a soft laugh.

I rolled my eyes at her, her eyes were sunken in, dazed out. Her face covered in dirt smears and cigarette ash. My nose scrunched at the fresh smell of her "special" smoking habit. I looked down at her bruised arms as I closed my eyes.

"I don't want to be like papa," I said blankly.

She gave me a forced, twitchy smile, "b-but your face is so sharp, you're going to make all the ladies faint one day when you walk down the street."

I walked away from her without another word and grabbed a shirt from the pile on floor, I slipped it on and walked to the kitchen. Stepping past all the damp moldy spots in the carpet, crushed beer cans, and all the burn marks from dropped cigarettes.

I shakily reached up to the cabinet and pulled a cup out, it slipped from my grasp and hit my head as it crashed to the floor. I grabbed my forehead and winced. I flinched as I saw the broken glass on the floor. I looked at my hand and noticed it was covered in blood.

I touched my eyebrow with my other hand and noticed there was blood on there as well. I looked at my feet as the stinging set in, they were bleeding profusely from the shards that cut against my flesh. I sighed annoyed and wiped my bloody hands on my shirt. I froze and my body ran cold as I heard stomping coming my way.

"Trevor you fucking idiot!" My father shouted as he picked me up by my hair and threw me against the wall. I coughed out as I slammed into it, feeling like my bones were breaking. I landed in the pile of freshly broken glass. I heaved out weak breaths as I looked up at him.

"Dan... Dan please," my mother sobbed out as she ran over to me, stepping over the broken glass and put her arms around me, "he just dropped a cup is all, i-it's not his fault. His fingers are weak right now, see?" she frantically explained as she held up my stick thin limbs.

"So what Lilith?! You're saying it's my fault?!" My father yelled as he stepped towards us.

I gulped and shut my eyes tight, waiting for the inevitable screams that were going to emit from my mother.

"N-no I didn't say that at all," she cried. He landed a blow right into her eye as she screamed out in anguish and held her face. I could feel her tears falling onto my arm.

"You better not have," He growled and walked away.

She sighed and pulled me into her lap more, stroking my hair. "It's okay baby," she whispered to me as I was shaking in pain and terror.

———

I laid on the couch, pulling a towel over my arms as I turned over, curling into a ball. I tried my hardest to ignore the living room TV blasting and illuminating the entire room. My father laughing loudly and mocking what was being said on the TV. Smoke filling my nose as I tried to drift off sleep.

My father let out a loud burp and stood up from his chair, crunching a beer can and letting it fall to the floor, "I'm off to bed, make sure that brat gets to sleep," he muttered and walked to his bedroom. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him glaring down at me.

"You should've never been born," he whispered harshly to me and entered his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

I flinched as I felt my mother rubbing my hair, "my handsome baby boy," she whispered as she kissed my cheek.

"I-I need to sleep," I said softly and closed my eyes.

"I know sweetie, I just wanted to say goodnight," she whispered as she hugged me gently, then got up and walked to their room at a weakened pace.

I don't want to be like papa.

I don't want to be like papa at all.

Please don't tell me I'm anything like him ever again.

"Trevor?" Marti said suddenly, snapping my mind away from my old memories. Tears were trailing down the sides of my face.

I didn't realize it but I was panting and sweating as I stared up at the ceiling. Gripping the knife in my trembling hand as it was pointed upwards.

"Trevor?" Marti asked again as he walked towards me, he put a hand on mine, having me lower the knife. "Are you okay?" He asked as he got on his knees and gently pulled the knife from my hand, and placed it on the table next to the couch.

I'm not okay.

I haven't been in okay my entire life.

Please... help me.

"I..." I got out and continued staring at the ceiling, my hands in tight twitching fists.

"Talk to me," he said softly.

I looked at him and instantly tackled him, he winced out as I hugged him as tight as I could.

Please help me.

———

Marti POV

I could feel my entire body being crushed under his arms as he hugged me tighter than ever before. I froze when I felt wetness on my neck, he was shivering violently and sniffling as he held onto me.

He's crying...

But why?

Is this what Oliver was talking about?

We've been together for years and I still don't know exactly what's happened with him.

I don't exactly know what his childhood was like.

"I'm not like him," he whispered to me, torment lingering in his voice.

"L-like who?" I asked him as I tried to rub his back but I couldn't move my arms up.

"My father," he weeped out through gritted teeth. "I'm not like him!" He shouted out.

"I-I agree," I coughed out.

"Please... Marti..." he started.

"Yes?" I asked, feeling tears weld up in my eyes from pain.

"Tell me I'm not like him," he said as a flood of tears came from him.

"You're not like him," I said softly. "Nothing like him."

What has his father done to him...

He pulled away, relieving my arms from his strong hold. I looked up at him and his eyes were red, puffy, and more tears were plummeting down. They cascaded down his cheeks as he pulled me up into his lap and rested his face into my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed out as he rubbed my back with shaky hands.

"F-for what Trevor?" I asked confused.

"For doing this to you," he whispered with a slight hiccup as he traced the scars with his fingers. "I'm a monster... for doing this to you."

Oh my god.

He truly does feel guilty for what he did to me.

I never thought I'd ever see him in a state of emotion like this.

I don't remember him ever crying before.

Especially not like this.

"Please," he called out in a strained voice.

I rubbed his head and held him close to me as I wrapped my other arm around him. I kissed the side of his head and held him tight. I looked behind him and saw an empty bottle of liquor by the couch.

He must be trashed right now...

I know that was a new bottle.

His shaky hands continued as he let out a crying scream of misery.

"Don't let me be like papa," He sniffled.

"You're not him... you'll never be like him," I whispered.

"Please," he cried out and hugged me tighter.

"You're nothing like him," I said sternly. I moved him and looked him directly in the eye.

He looked at me with full confusion in his face, "I'm not?"

"You're not," I said.

More tears fell as he pulled me back in for another hug. "I'm a monster," he whispered with a scratched voice.

"You're not a monster," I rubbed his hair and kissed his forehead.

"I am," he cried louder as he shook and buried his face into my neck. "I'm a repulsive monster!" He bawled out.

"You're not!" I yelled out. He flinched and froze. I sighed, "you're not a monster Trevor."

"B-But... I've treated you so horribly... what else would you call me other than a monster?" He asked quietly.

"Broken."

———

I rubbed Trevor's head as he was sleeping in my lap. He twitched a few times in his sleep but would always relax after a while and nuzzle his head into my legs.

He had to take a shower and change his basketball shorts because they were covered in liquor. He had me stay in the bathroom with him as he took a quick shower.

What happened to you back there?

What happened to you in your childhood that you've... cracked like this?

I know in my heart now for sure, he really is just broken and no one has ever tried to help him before.

He's been dependent on himself for his entire life most likely.

I rubbed down his bare back and my hand froze as I looked at a tattoo, with a date and a name right below it.

January 27th.

Lilith.

Who is Lilith and why is this date here?

I know I that I should know what all of his tattoos are but it's difficult to keep track of them with so many.

I checked my phone and saw today was January 27th.

It must be Lilith's birthday.

I looked at his back more and noticed he had faint scars, similar to mine on his entire back but much more faded.

That explains why he has tattoos all over his back, chest, and arms... he did once say that tattoos are the best way to cover up scars.

I moved his wrist and stared at it, I could faintly see scars leading from the top of his wrist, down to his inner elbow.

Has he tried to commit suicide before?

That's the only guess I have from seeing these.

I gently moved him off of me, and got off the bed, his hand instantly grabbed mine and I looked back at him, his head was still down in the sheets.

"Please don't leave."

I sat back in the bed quickly and he pulled me close to him and wrapped an arm around my waist and the other around my back. He nuzzled his face into my stomach and his shaky breaths slowly returned to restful ones. I rubbed his head again and down his back gently.

I hope he knows I wasn't going to leave, I was just going to look around for any information on who Lilith might be.

I'm more concerned than anything because Lilith has got to be someone close to him for him to get her name tattooed on him with a date.

Could Lilith be his mother?

Should I even ask him about it?

I don't want to risk upsetting him further considering he was a traumatized drunken mess when I found him in the red room, completely spaced out and shaking.

I'll have to ask him at some point.

I have to help him with this.

I'm here for you Trevor.

I'm going to help you.

I blinked my tired eyes and relaxed into the pillows. I grabbed a remote off the bed side table and turned off the lights, then set it back as I let sleep take over me.

———

Trevor POV

I pushed the curtain open to see my father laying blows onto my mother's head. She coughed out blood and looked at me with misery lurking in her eyes. The strong smell of burning food on the stove lingering in the air. Smoke filling up the room as it continued. My father's head snapped to me and he had a wicked grin on his face.

"Come here," he barked.

I shook my head no rapidly and ran out of the bathroom, I was too scared to go into their bedroom, I froze as I pushed myself back against the wall. My father has started coming after me, my mother grabbed his ankle and he toppled over.

"You fucking whore!" He shouted back at her and gripped her wrist. I cringed at hearing her wrist bones cracking under his hands.

"Run Trevor!" She shouted out, her voice rupturing as she tried to hold onto my father by his waist. "Run now!"

I felt hot tears rolling down my face as I ran past them as he was hitting her. I slid into the pantry and glanced back, he was choking her on the floor. I covered my mouth as I hid inside and closed the door behind me. Pushing myself to the back and sliding the empty boxes in front of me.

"Trevor..." my father sung, his tone laced with lunacy.

"I have a surprise for you," he sung.

I pushed myself further into the pantry, trying to hide myself with the empty boxes of food.

"I can smell you," he snarled out.

You can't smell me.

You won't find me.

Please leave me alone.

"Dan..." my mother croaked out.

"Shut the fuck up Lilith!" He yelled out. Her blood curling scream filling the house.

"No," I whispered to myself as I held my face in my hands, more tears coming down as I tried to plug my ears with my nimble fingers.

The pantry door was ripped away, my father threw it against the tile floor as he stared down at me.

"Come here, Trevor," he said with a softer tone, holding his hand out to me.

"No!" I wailed out and shook my head.

He snarled as he grabbed the top of my head and yanked me out, dragging me to the living room. He threw me on top of my bloody broken mother, she weakly wrapped her arms around me.

"Pray Trevor," she whispered to me.

My father laughed out loud. He picked up a baseball bat from the side of his chair. He stepped towards me and I tried to cover my mother with my sickly arms, trying to block her from gaining anymore torment.

Earning me a smack to the side of my head, I wheezed out as I landed to the side. "Don't..." I heaved as I slowly pushed myself back up.

My father started beating my mother with the bat, she screamed out in terror with each hit as she tried to crawl away from him. He stomped on her ankle, making her cry out more as he trapped her under his foot. I backed myself up to the wall and cried.

All I could do was cry.

I can't save her.

Not against him.

I have to become stronger.

I watched in horror as my dad lifted her already limp body up by her throat, her eyes began popping out and her face turning deep red.

"No," I whimpered out.

"I... love... you... Tre-" she choked out.

"Shut up," my father growled as he tightened his grip, her neck cracking in an instant. Her eyes rolled back and reset, staring down at me, empty, and full of demise. He dropped her on the floor and stared down at her with disgust in his expression.

———

Marti POV

"No!" Trevor yelled out suddenly.

I jumped from surprise and looked down at him, he jumped off of me, toppling onto the floor and snatched his pistol off the bedside table, he pointed it all around while looking around frantically, huffing as he looked dazed.

"Trevor-" I started as I moved towards him.

He pointed the pistol at me, trembling as tears were falling down rapidly.

"It's me... it's Marti," I said softly to him as I held out my hands.

His trembling softened and he looked around again, disoriented and confused. Then he looked back at me, letting the pistol fall from his hand as he was frozen in a quivering state.

I got off the bed gently, and walked over to him with my hands out. I kicked the pistol aside, letting it slide across the wooden floor as I got closer to him.

"Trevor... it's me," I spoke softly as I got on my knees in front of him.

"M-Marti?" He asked, his voice shaking with somber.

"Yes... it's me, Marti," I whispered as I hugged him gently.

His arms wrapped around me gently. "He killed her..." he whispered.

"Your father?" I asked as I rubbed his back.

"He killed her..." he repeated.

"Who did he kill Trevor?" I asked.

"My..." he trailed off, letting his cries out as he pulled me closer to him in a tight embrace.

"Who?" I whispered in his ear.

"My mother," he sighed out.

I don't know what to say.

I never dealt with abusive parents myself.

I was lucky to have mine.

The most mine ever did was neglect me and ignore me.

But never abused me nor each other.