Work Text:
Michael cried. He hated everything. His arms bled onto his blankets and everything hurt. He hated living like this, living with him. He was tired of having to act all day, even when he was at home or with his “friends”. He sat up and grabbed the blade again, his hands shaking. He dug it into his skin. It felt good to be distracted by how much it hurt. He wanted to end it all with that very same blade, maybe slice his wrists deep enough to bleed out. Or get a knife from the kitchen and stab himself. But he knew he couldn't, he had to take care of Elizabeth and David. After all, his mother was a sleazy, drunk slut and his father a self-absorbed businessman who cared too much about his reputation. He hated them both. He laid there for a little longer, watching his arms bleed, before falling asleep.
He woke up around 6:45 am, grunting when he realized how early it was. He looked down and saw his arms, they stopped bleeding but his sheets were stained with blood. He got up and went to the bathroom, knowing no one else would be up to see him in this state. He washed his arms then wrapped bandages around them. The cuts only covered about a quarter of his forearms, and if he needed to he could hide them. He didn’t like to though, he liked seeing how people reacted and how mad it made his father. He didn't mind the beatings he got for it anymore.
He heard footsteps so he opened the bathroom door and saw David in his Fredbear-themed pajamas.
“Morning.”
Was all he said as he walked black to his room. David’s eyes lingered on the fresh bandages, he knew what they meant.
Back in his room, Michael stripped the sheets from his bed and threw them in his hamper, which was already flooded with clothes. He changed into some jeans and a band t-shirt, then sat down at his desk. He started drawing, losing himself in the worlds he created. He loved it, it was his favorite escape, other than self harm. That always worked the best.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door, so he got up and opened it. It was Elizabeth there to tell him that breakfast was ready. Michael raised an eyebrow, that was unusual. He walked downstairs after his sister.
Once in the kitchen he saw his mother, clearly hungover, standing by the stove making pancakes. They were all completely burnt, but when he got himself a plate and cut one in half, it was somehow still raw on the inside. He scoffed and threw it away.
Somehow Mrs. Afton didn't notice, she was just standing there, still. She had been doing this a lot recently. Michael went back to his room and sat at his desk again. What should he do? He kept drawing for a little bit until he decided to journal, his mind was too loud for the drawing to drown it out. He grabbed his journal from a drawer in his desk and started to write.
“Mom is spacing out a ton, I think she’s drinking herself to death. Honestly I wish I could too, but if Father found me drinking he’d kill me. I hate living in this house. I wish I could run away. I wish I was never born.”
As he wrote the last sentence, there was a pang in his chest and he remembered he had been wearing his binder for over 24 hours. Fuck, he had completely forgotten, he even slept in it. He walked over to his dresser and took it off, putting a fresh t-shirt on. His ribs were bruised and his body ached as the pressure was released. He took a deep breath and felt his lungs fill with air after being restricted for so long. He laid down on his bed and fell asleep within a few minutes.
A few hours later he woke up, mildly confused after accidentally falling asleep. He checked his alarm clock, it was 11:46 AM. He grabbed his sketchbook and started doodling, but eventually was interrupted by a knock at his door.
“Yeah?”
William opened the door, an annoyed look on his face.
“Finally, you’re awake.” He grunted
“What do you want, old man.”
“Get up, you can't sit in here all day”
Michael rolled his eyes and got up, still holding his sketchbook. He put on a hoodie to cover his chest and walked downstairs to the living room. William followed close behind. Michael flopped down on the couch and reached for the remote, but William interrupted him.
“I meant go outside, idiot.”
Michael groaned and got up, running upstairs to grab his walkman then coming back downstairs and leaving through the front door. He started walking to the nearby forest, blasting music through his headphones. Eventually he reached his favorite spot, it was a concrete lookout built on the bluffs. Whenever he went to it he always noticed new graffiti and/or added his own. The view was beautiful, too. But his favorite part was how quiet it was.
The breeze gently ruffled the leaves around him, and the air smelled fresh and crisp, autumn was coming. He sat down, and opened his sketchbook to start drawing. He was calm, his mind quiet. Finally.
After hours of drawing and wandering around the forest, Michael realized he should head home. He didn’t want to, but he needed to make lunch for his siblings. He went home and started making grilled cheese. Once he was done he called his siblings down and they sat together at the table to eat.
“How has your day been?” He asked Liz, knowing if he asked David he wouldn’t answer. Weirdo.
“Good, I hung out with my friends. We went to the playground” Elizabeth said
Michael nodded, continuing to eat. Elizabeth kept talking, David clearly listening. He was a sweet kid, but he annoyed Michael a lot. So many things David did annoyed him. Hell, everything annoyed him sometimes. He sighed and cleared his dish, then went upstairs.
He decided to do his laundry so he put the clothes and sheets that were in his hamper in the washer, then went to the bathroom to replace the bandages on his arms. When he took them off he saw there was only a bit of blood on them, since most of it went on his sheets, and the cuts had scabbed over a little. He put new bandages on then went to his room.
Once in his room he sat down at his desk, he had some homework he was supposed to do. He grumbled and pulled it out of his backpack but when he placed it on his desk he got an idea. He grabbed the papers and a few other things, then went outside and dropped it on the driveway. He poured nail polish remover on it, then, flicking on his lighter, set it ablaze. He chuckled while he watched it burn. This was dumb but he didn’t care, fire was fun. But then he heard the front door open. Shit.
“Michael, what the fuck are you doing?!”
William pulled Michael away from the growing fire by the collar of his shirt, and stomped it out with his foot. He scolded Michael as he dragged the boy inside.
“Care to explain what you were burning?” William asked.
“Nothing, it doesn't matter.”
“Still, you can’t just burn things, idiot. Fucking pyro, I can’t believe you’re my son.”
William slapped Michael across the face. Michael glared at his father for a second then went upstairs to his room. He chuckled as he sat down on his beanbag, William didn’t even notice it was his homework!...He would still find out sooner or later though.
He brushed it off and grabbed his journal, deciding to look through the old entries.