worthless: (adjective)
1.having no real value or use.
2. (of a person) having no good qualities; deserving contempt.

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Coming back to my father after another unsuccessful day of trying to get Ash to believe me, feels like going to my own personal hell. I'd rather burn at the stake than go home to see my father when all I can think about is Ash and how I've fucked everything up.

One of the only good things in my life. The only person who makes me see things clearly. Who has made me feel like a normal person, that I can achieve things and what my father bullies into me is not true.

It's not true.

When I step through my front door I keep my head down, trying my hardest not to make a sound in case my dad is home from work. He's been at home a lot more than usual and it makes me anxious to be in the same space with him.

Usually it's fine when he doesn't get home till after six but when I get back between three and four, he's already here. Waiting for me.

He's been noticeably angrier than normal and I can't help but think it's my fault. I know he still hasn't forgiven me for getting arrested, for sabotaging my boxing career and putting a pause on fights and competitions.

Hell, I can't even go to the boxing gym because I'm not welcome there.

My father still hates me because of it and I'm not sure if he'll ever come to terms with the fact his son is classed as a criminal.

I reach for the stairs when a hand clasps over my shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Upstairs to shower."

His fingers dig into my flesh and yanks me backwards. "Training. Now."

I throw off his grip and twist round to him quickly. "Training?" My voice comes out in nothing but a pathetic laugh. "You mean training where you push me around, you hurt me, you fucking bully me on purpose."

My father's nostrils flare at my words. "I'm trying to make you better, to get you in shape from when you're off probation and you can compete. This attitude is the shit side of you, Bodi."

"Have you noticed that since we've been training together I've become worse because you're not a coach!" I yell at him. "You think you know everything but you don't, you know nothing. You just want to hurt me because you're angry at me."

He takes one step closer and backs me up into the wall. "How dare you," he growls. "I've done my absolute hardest for you. I even lost my fucking job for you!"

I blink at his words. He lost his job?

"Why would you lose your job for me?" My voice drops down to a whisper.

"I didn't lose the job you fucking idiot," he grits his teeth and I can smell his beer breath. "You're the one who lost it for me. With your deviant activities, for making me drink, for making me angry. You're the one who did this to me."

My head shakes and I want to punch him over and over until he is bleeding.

"It's not my fault that you're an alcoholic," I say through gritted teeth. "It's not my fault that mum left your sorry ass, it's not my fault that you are the way you are. And I will be nothing like you, absolutely nothing like you."

Before I know what's happening my father raises his fist and hits me directly on the nose, blood trickles down my lips and into my mouth and I'm reacting. I'm punching and hitting and doing everything I can until he's cowering away from me.

He drops back onto the floor and I hover over him, my body vibrating with ultimate rage. "I certainly didn't learn those moves from you, father." I spit in his direction, feeling my blood drip off my chin.

I watch him for a few moments as he tries to breathe and push himself against the staircase.

"You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do with my life anymore, I am my own person. You don't own me."

My dad's lips crack into a smile and he laughs like he's delirious or got a concussion. "You think your mother left because of me but she left to get away from you too because guess what, you're a failure. Just like me and nothing can change that. Nothing good comes to those who are failures, we are nobodies. No one cares about us because we're worthless."

Tears sting the back of my eyes and I shake my head violently. "We are not alike," I growl at him. "We will never be the same."

"Oh but we are," he chuckles and smears his own blood across his face. "Like father, like son. You're going to grow up and realise that we're more alike than you think, even if I know you're the lousiest son alive."

I want to hit him some more but I can't, I don't want to. He's not worth my anger anymore.

"Maybe it's because you're a crap dad and you've given me nothing but hate. It's because you hate yourself that you're projecting it onto me. I'm not your worst enemy, you're your own worst enemy."

Before he can respond I take myself upstairs and shut myself in the bathroom, showering to get rid of my blood and watching as my knuckles turn to a dark shade of red. I scrub and I scrub my body until I'm sore and screaming.

Everything feels like it's suffocating me and I cannot take it anymore. I can't.

As soon as I'm showered I get dressed and pass the droplets of blood on the floor on the way out. I don't know where I'm going but I have to get out of here before I explode, before I do something I really regret.

The hurt behind my heart has me breathing heavily, fists clenched so tight that my nails are digging into my palms.

Everything shakes, including my mind, my blood, my existence.

I walk and walk for what feels like hours but nothing feels better, somehow everything seems worse. Knowing I have to go back to my father tonight, I wouldn't be surprised if he changes the locks and throws my stuff on the street.

This pain hurts more than any fight I've ever been in. Not the physical pain but the emotional pain, the type that cuts so deep that you have no idea if you'll ever feel alright again.

Everything has crumbled into my hands and I can't fix it. I can't fix anything because I'm just useless to everyone. No one wants to care about me because no one does, that's simple.

This world would be better without people like me.

I am nothing.

I am useless.

When the sun begins to set I find myself walking into the nearest off-licence and picking up the cheapest bottle of vodka I can find, and the biggest. I don't know what has come over me but the idea of trying to wash it away makes it seem logical.

At parties I forget everything when I drink, I physically drown myself in the poison and hope for the best. And in this case I want it now, things don't seem to get better so why should I sit around forcing myself to be happy when I'm not.

Alcohol makes you forget. It makes it better. So much better. Because I forget.

Maybe I am more like my father than I think. Alcoholic tendencies, I wonder if it's genetic or I'm just a fucking idiot because it's all I can think of to drown out this deep pitiful sorrow inside my chest.

I'm not sure where to walk because it's late and it's dark and the bracelet on my ankle is flashing, telling me that I have broken curfew but that is the last thing I care about.

My lips touch the bottle over and over until half of it is gone and my stomach is churning from barely eating today. But that doesn't stop me, my feet stumble and my head spins.

I end up in a park and find myself collapsing onto the floor unexpectedly, my hand barely keeping the bottle upwards. My throat clenches as I look up at the clear sky, every star noticeable and shining bright and I'm here burning out.

Sometimes I wish my mum stayed or I had gone with her so life wouldn't have turned out this rough. Things might have worked out for me if I decided to move to Scotland or if she never met Mark but I want her to be happy.

So maybe being away from me has made her life better.

Is that what I do... ruin peoples lives? Is that all I'm good at... because it seems likely.

My stomach gurgles again and I resist the urge to throw up. I keep it down because maybe I deserve this. I deserve feeling like shit, having nothing, being absolutely nothing.

He's probably right. My father is probably right.

A waste of a life.

I should give up now.

Nothing good will come of me, ever.

Who am I kidding?

Tears escape my eyes unexpectedly and I wipe them away with a pathetic push. I continue to look up at the sky and let out these emotions that I had no idea I was holding, ones that feel like years of sadness and anger.

Ones that I don't want to hold anymore because I don't want to keep feeling like this.

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Author's Note

Oh poor Bodi, what did you guys think of this chapter?😢😢😢

Bodi's dad is a fucking asshole and I hate that he feels like he has nothing in his life

Ughhhhh, what do you want to happen next?

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