A/N: I wrote this way back in Year 10.
The wind howled through his window, making it rattle, because of the hole in the bottom-left corner. There was no life apart from the dozens of mice which ran around the room. The door was opened quickly and was slammed hard. The mice scuttled away from the noise. A picture of a boy and his mother fell off the bedside table as a result of the door being slammed. The boy picked it up, he looked at the picture and muttered, "Everything was fine before he came." as he put the picture back.
The boy noticed the rattle of the window for the first time and got up to fix it.
A voice called up the bare stairs, "BOY DOWNSTAIRS NOW!"
Charlie muttered, "Fine, fine, I'm coming." with a feeling dread.
He walked downstairs, expecting a punch from Jake, his stepfather. As Charlie walked past the dusty mirror in the dark hallway, he backtracked and looked into it.
His expressionless dark brown eye stared back at him. His long, thin fingers came up to flick his mid-length red hair, with highlights of blue and purple, back from his face. His fingers traced a long, thin scar down from his forehead to his left cheek. That was from where Jake cut him, but even through that Charlie didn't make a sound. His skin was as white as snow because Jake hardly ever let him go outside because of the cuts and bruises on his face and arms.
"Hurry up Boy!" shouted Jake from the sitting room.
Charlie sighed and walked slowly to the door, like a solider going to war, although a solider would have a better time than Charlie.
He paused at the door, wondering if it was worth it, but went in any way. Charlie trudged in and there's Jake on the battered sofa.
"Boy, come here." Jake growled, who looked drunk and livid. Charlie walked quickly to him before he got it even worse.
Jake's fist came flying through the sir and smashed into Charlie's face that's already battered and bruises. Again and again Jake slammed his fists' into Charlie's face, stomach and chest. Charlie didn't make a sound. After a particularly hard blow to the face, Charlie passed out, but still Jake hit him, again and again, until it was past midnight and Jake was bored of hitting him.
This is what Charlie's become - a human punch bag.
Charlie woke up in a wood of sycamores with a strong sense of déjà vu, as if he had been to this wood before. He could smell lavender and wild garlic. When had he been here before? Of course, when he'd come camping with Mum and Dad before Dad died. It was really fun, we went walking, fishing and biking. Dad taught Charlie how to fish here, at first he didn't like it but then Mum had cooked the fish they had caught and it tasted really good. After that there was no qualms about catching the fish. Mum and Dad had been in a really good mood all week.
Charlie woke up, aching all over from the beating last night. More cuts and bruises over his skin. He stood up, wincing as the bruises made themselves known. He couldn't take this anymore! Charlie ran upstairs, despite the bruises. He got the knife from his desk and cut wrists, feeling relief in the pain. He kept cutting, but he cut too deep and passed out.
Later that day...
"BOY DOWNSTAIRS NOW!"
A few minutes later...
"BOY! DOWNSTAIRS! NOW!"
An enraged yell came from downstairs and heavy footsteps are heard on the wooden stairs. The door slammed against the wall, making the picture fall off again, to show a body on the floor.
A/N: Reviews are the only payment I recieve.