"Speak!" Jeremy cringed as his uncle punched the wall and took several steps back. His uncle turned to him, a glare on his face. Jeremy gulped and blocked his face from whatever blows he'd attempt to use against him.

He felt a sharp pain in his side and collapsed to the floor, gasping. He clutched his side and pulled away his hand to see red leaking from it. He looked up at his uncle, who was holding a knife. Blood stained the tip of it. He stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Why won't you speak?" he hissed, dropping to Jeremy's level. Jeremy gasped and turned his face away from him, not wanting to look him in the eye. His uncle's hand roughly grabbed a handful of his uncut hair and turned his head back to him. Jeremy gasped at the sharp pain in his neck and swallowed a yell.

He bit his lower lip and looked up at him, terrified. of course, he wouldn't show it. He kept a straight face and tried to ignore the blood pooling under him from the stab his uncle made.

"Speak," his uncle growled. "If you don't, someone will think something's wrong with you and I don't need them to know what I've done."

Oh, the things you've done, Jeremy thought. My silence could actually get you in trouble. He smirked at his uncle, feeling bold and defiant.

That smirk soon faded when he felt the knife cut his cheek. It was a shallow cut, but it hurt nonetheless. He drew in a quick, sharp breath and hissed.

"Listen you little brat, you better say something," his uncle said angrily. Jeremy watched the knife with interest. Then he looked at his uncle, as though to say, Or what?

Apparently, his uncle had had enough of his bullshit. He slapped him, hard, earning a soft yelp. Jeremy had tears pooling in his eyes, but he wouldn't show any weakness. Or things would just be a repeat of last month's incident.

But those tears fell anyway. This put a frown on his uncle's face. He pressed the knife blade against Jeremy's lips and traced them. Jeremy shivered under the cold blade. No, he thought. His uncle began to feel under his shirt.

Please stop, he thought. He began to push him away until the knife was in his arm and releasing blood all over the floor. He let out a sob as his clothes were removed.


Jinxx snapped awake and sat up, eyes wide in terror. He pulled his knees to his chest and took deep breaths, trying to relax. Those memories never seemed to fade. Why wouldn't they? He just wanted to forget. He didn't want these memories of the old him. He didn't want to remember anything about his past. Not the cuts, suicide attempts, the abuse, his parents before the accident, the rape...anything but the rape.

He tried to force back tears but they dropped slowly in small, thin trails. He sobbed and covered his face. He couldn't handle these thoughts. Where was his knife when he needed it most? Maybe a bottle of pills to render him unconscious for a few hours, perhaps days?

But no, he had failed at suicide and was stuck in purgatory, awaiting his fate: was he sane enough for the real world or completely off the deep end? By now, he was probably a rotting, bloated corpse at the bottom of an ocean of madness. There weren't any blades or pills he could access here.

So he chose the next best thing; he texted Jake. He promised he wouldn't do it. He didn't want to show anymore weakness. He was almost seventeen. He was supposed to be stronger than this and definitely not locked away in a mental hospital.

Jake, he texted. Are you awake? If you are, I want to talk to you.

Notes

*sighs* Who wants Rice Krispie treats?