!Warning! This post contains homophobia, homophobic slurs, self-harm, abuse, and possibly some other stuff I forgot

Micha lay curled up on the floor, there were tears in his eyes and blood dripping consistently onto the floor below him. His breath came in short gasps, and he couldn’t seem to gain any sort of control as the world swam around him. It was difficult to fully grasp what was happening and what he’d just done, in a way, he already regretted it, but at the same time, it only felt right.

“Shit.” Micha hissed, struggling to sit up. He held his arm close to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and flinching back at the sound of yelling through the door. Even as Micha was struggling to regain control of his own mind his parents were fighting. Over him, probably. Over what he was. Who he was.

Either a gay freak that deserved to burn in hell or their loving son that could never do any wrong. Micha wasn’t sure what to believe either. All he knew was that it was his fault that everything was happening. It was his fault that his parents were falling apart.

---

It had started the day before, Micha had come out two weeks prior and his father had been openly disapproving while his mother accepted him easily. At first, not much happened, his father just started ignoring him more and avoided contact with him, but yesterday his mother and little sister were at the store and Micha was in his room, minding his business, when he was suddenly grabbed by the hair and dragged, struggling, to the kitchen. The was no warning, no conversation, but the next thing he knew, his hair was falling onto the floor, cut close to his head in uneven strands. The boy did nothing but stare in complete shock as his father finished slicing his hair off, leaving nothing but an uncomfortable fuzz to cover Micha’s head. After this was done, he was shoved to the floor and kicked hard in the side.

“You disgusting little fag.” His father sneered, glaring down at his child with hatred. “You deserve nothing but pain.”

Micha was found still sobbing on the floor when his mother came home and found him. She had screamed and wrapped her son up in her arms while Micha’s sister, Niki, cried.

The fighting started then, the angry, constant fighting that lasted day and night, echoing through the house. It started because of Micha. Because he was different. Because he wasn’t perfect.

---

Now, he clutched his arm tightly, wincing in pain as his fingers became slick with blood. The cuts were deep and Micha was getting a little light-headed. His breathing continued to become more and more ragged the longer he sat, but he couldn’t find the strength to stand and walk across the hall to the bathroom. He couldn’t force himself to walk through the battlefield in order to get to the medical tent. It wasn’t worth it. There was no way any of this pain was worth it, so maybe he should just give up then. Maybe he could just lay down and close his eyes. He’d bleed out eventually, and no one would notice, or, at least not for a long time. The fighting would stop then, his parents would be happy again. Then Niki could grow up in a happy household with both parents and no more screaming. She would be safer without him.

Realizing this, Micha felt something slip away, some small part of his mind that had been insisting that he keep going stopped nagging and hesitated. If it was better for the family, then it couldn’t possibly be that bad. Right?

Taking a breath, the boy closed his eyes once more and sank back against the wall, embracing the pain and letting his arm fall back to his side. There was no point in holding on to something that was already lost. Maybe next life could be better.

A soft knock on the door caused Micha’s eyes to flicker open tiredly, only partially aware of what the sound was.

“Micky?” And suddenly Micha’s brain was fully aware, hyper-focused on the small voice calling his name. Only one person called him that, and she was the last person Micha wanted to find him. “Micky, can I come in pleaseeeee? Papa left again.” Micha opened his mouth, urging words to form even against the pain. He needed his sister to leave. She couldn’t see him like this. Please. “Okay, I’m coming in, okay?”

'Nonononono.'

The door opened and a sliver of light entered the room, revealing the outline of a little girl with curly brown hair. She froze, an expression of confused horror appearing on her face.

“M-Micky? You’re bleeding!” Niki cried, rushing to her brother’s side and falling to her knees next to him. “What happened? Why are you bleeding so much? Why’s there a knife? Micky, what’s going on?”

“N-Niki, you… you need… to leave. P-Please.” With much effort, Micha managed to speak, watching his little sister’s eyes fill with tears.

“MAMA!” She screamed, voice shrill.

“N-no, Niki…”

“MICKY’S BLEEDING! MAMA!” His sister ignored him, obviously panicked as she screamed for their mother who appeared a moment later, flicking on the light and gasping in horror when she spotted her son.

“Oh my god, Micha!” Micha gave up, letting his eyes slip closed again. He couldn’t bear the pained expressions of his mother and sister. It was too much. “Niki, get the first aid kit, I’m calling an ambulance.” There was rustling, an urgent phone call, and bandages pressed hard into Micha’s wounds. He never opened his eyes, silently begging his family to just let him go. Of course, they didn’t.

The next half hour was a messy blur in Micha’s mind. He could faintly remember hearing sirens, feeling someone prod him and stick a needle in his arm, and the sounds of hurried conversation, then silence.

---

The next thing he knew, he was in a whitewashed room with tubes in his nose and machines surrounding him. His mother and sister were sitting next to the hospital bed, his mother was asleep, but Niki’s bright blue eyes peered at him.

“Big brother?” Her voice was almost a whisper. Micha had to swallow hard to keep from immediately bursting into tears. He reached a hand weakly across the bed and his little sister’s hand grasped it quickly, fitting easily into her brother’s.

“Hey… Niki.”

Niki looked at him and Micha thought she looked a little older than before. “You wouldn’t leave me, right Micky?”

Micha’s eyes filled with tears and he took a shaky breath. “No. No, I… I wouldn’t, Niki.” He whispered, a tear trailing down his cheek. “Not again.”

His sister smiled brightly and she nodded. “Good.”

“I’m sorry, Niki.”

“It’s okay.” She squeezed Micha’s hand and looked at her older brother with almost childish happiness. “I love you, Micky!”