Home is not a house

Chapter 10

Tw for this chapter: Past suicide, self harm, past abuse, talk of vomiting, talk of drinking, bruises and cuts (jesus I am so sorry, these tw keep getting longer and longer. But hey two updates in a day)

Tommy woke up a few hours later, still a bit tired from waking up in the middle of the night. He sat up and grabbed some clothes before heading for a shower. But before he could even get to the bathroom there's a yelp from downstairs.

Tommy dropped his stuff and ran down the stairs, running until he got to the kitchen.

Wilbur was standing there, holding his hand under water.

"Wilbur are you okay?" Tommy questions, Wilbur turns to look at him.

"Yes, I'm sorry for yelling. I was cooking and accidentally burnt my hand on the pan." Wilbur tells him, Tommy looks over to see there was a lot of food in a pan, that was still on the flames. Tommy turned around, turned off the flame and moved the pan off.

"Just till you get back." Tommy mumbled, feeling ashamed for worrying about Wilbur, especially since Wilbur said what he had the night before. While at 5am Tommy didn't remember the words that were said, he remembered them now.

Wilbur knew the look on his face, knew that Tommy was thinking of the night before. Before he could say anything else, Tommy walked out of the room and back up the stairs. Tommy grabbed his dropped things and went into the bathroom.

After his shower Tommy was looking in the mirror again. While the bruises had gone from a dark purple color they were now a greenish yellowish color. They all still held their shape and Tommy kept thinking about how everyone must see him like this all the time.

He thought back to all the times he saw other people, all of them staring but never saying anything. When shopping, at the restaurant, at therapy.

The cuts that weren't self inflected on his body were healed a decent amount, not quite scars yet but they were getting there. The wounds on his arms were long, jagged and still healing. Luckily Tommy had worn his jacket when going outside so no one sees those.

Tommy had done more self harm, stuff the others still hadn't seen because he did it late at night. While Phil had gotten rid of his razor there was still a pair of scissors in the kitchen. And now there were a good amount of cuts on his thighs, somewhere they wouldn't look.

Tommy sighed, looking at the reflection of a boy who is broken beyond belief. He shook his head and finally peeled away his eyes. He got dressed and brushed his teeth, retreating to his room instead of going downstairs.

He didn't belong, Wilbur said so. Wilbur told him that he didn't belong. He had gotten used to being loved and cared for, not forced to do chores or work. He wasn't beaten or abuse, but he didn't belong.

Part of Tommy wanted to talk to Puffy. See if there was another house, lucky house number 38. But the other part of him didn't want to take that risk. What if they were just as bad as the ones in the past? Did he really want to see if he would make it out?

But that is what he did deserve. Maybe he deserved all the shitty houses, the shitty treatment. He hadn't died in that before, despite being close several times, but he never did. Did that mean that is what he was supposed to go through?

The abuse, the rape, the suicide attempts, all of it he survived! If he wasn't meant to survive it then he wouldn't be put through it and see the other side of it. Plus what's 3 more years? Tommy could get through that, it was only 3 years. Less than that, since his birthday was in 7 months. He could do that, he could survive 2 years and 7 months.

He would rather be put through so much abuse then not belong. At least the abusive ones still wanted him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a phone call. Tommy turned to look at his phone, seeing the name on the screen read Ranboo. Tommy pressed accept and held it up to his ear.