Chapter 2 - Toxic Love

charles' monday on winter break isn't the best since his father is back from a sex party

It’s Monday, January 2nd of 2025. I can’t stand this house. My father just came home from his sex party, drunk. Like that could be any better. My mother yelled at him and now I have to clean up the glass on the floor that’s still there. I don’t wanna get out of bed nor do I wanna call anyone or even text them. I think I’ll die in this bed, which will make me happy. I didn’t update Amy today. I didn’t even touch my phone. Tristan didn’t text me and I’m still trying to figure out what he said at that party. Something about walking? I don’t know, I'm still confused. I slept in my binder again and don’t feel like cleaning it. Now that I think of it, I’m fucking disgusting.
“Eat! Eat! Eat!” is all I can hear my father yelling from downstairs. The hell is he yelling about. God do I wish I knew. My room is so eerily silent that I can hear everything from the house. I can hear my mothers muffled prayers and my fathers slurred words and my cat meowing and my phone buzzing and the wind outside hitting my window. It doesn’t feel calming anymore. I like my room but not this house.
I decided to go downstairs, the house is hot but I have to wear a hoodie so I’m not getting yelled at by my drunken father about how I ruined my delicate skin. The house reeks of alcohol, I wonder if I do. I wish the kitchen and living room were as far apart as possible so I don’t have to walk past my father but I do since the living room and kitchen just have to be connected. God what a stupid fucking idea.
“Clean that fucking glass up!” My father yells not looking up from the tv. The same goddamn football game is on. Hasn't he seen that same game enough? I wonder if he knows it's me or just guessed.
I want to yell back but I have no motivation, none. I just nod and carefully grab the sharp glass pieces that are sitting there on the floor. I open the trash can and throw out the glass pieces, not caring to grab the broom. I go into the fridge and grab four beers, putting two in my hoodie pockets and two in my sleeves before closing the fridge carefully and heading back upstairs to my room and putting the beers onto my nightstand.
I actually turn on my light so I can see. I’m not getting into details but let's just say a blade to my arms and some blood and tears and one finished beer were the outcome after an hour. I call up Tristan, slightly buzzed from the beer but still sober and sobbing.
“What… Charles,” Tristan responds harshly.
Fuck, he must be busy. I can’t bother him but I have to talk to him. “Tristan?” I say trying to sound like I’m not sobbing.
“Yeah?” Tristan replies his words are still harsh.
“Can you come over?” I ask slowly as I open my second beer.
Tristan groans quietly, probably moving the phone away so I don’t hear. I said that he's busy. “I’m busy, why?”
Knew it. Fuck I can’t tell him why. I’ll just beg, I just need him right now. “Please, I need you.” Shit now I sound desperate.
“Fine.” Tristan says annoyedly. And now I've pissed him off. Fuck.