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One quick warning before you genuinely start reading. In this chapter, it will go over harsh physical (and possibly mental) abuse on Makoto. And I know I said there was self harming in one of the chapters, but I'll give you guys another warning when that does chapter comes up. That's all.

Makoto was in his room, small and cramped with barely anything in it but a dirty old bed mattress. It wasn't even a proper bedroom, it was an attic!

Of course, Makoto never complained to his parents. Not after finding out the hard way why he shouldn't...

Downstairs, his parents were having yet another, party with friends. And Makoto was starving. His body so thin, you can see his ribs and his skin was pale and scarred with both old and recent bruises.

When the door to the attic swung open with necessary force, Makoto jumped up with sudden focus before quickly shifting his gaze downward.

"Here you stupid brat!" A woman, likely Makoto's mother with short, dark brown hair, said. Her words were slurred slightly as she spoke, giving Makoto a plate with a small piece of bread that looked stale, and it probably was.

Makoto didn't say anything. He found it was just better to not say anything than to actually try anything. So Makoto took the plate, hesitantly pulling it closer to him.

His mom stared at him with disgust before stumbling back down the attic.

As Makoto curled back up into a ball, his knees to his chest, he silently grabbed the piece of bread that was so stale it probably could have used to cut wood like an axe.

But, Makoto nibbled away at it nonetheless. He didn't make a fuss. He didn't complain. He just took it.

Why? Maybe because he was scared of the punishment that came with it if he ever did.

Makoto jumped up from his sleep from a loud thud downstairs. He waited for a few minutes before hesitantly standing up and opening the door that led downstairs.

Makoto's footsteps were quiet as he made his way down, as if to not get caught.

Just as Makoto finished brushing his teeth, a deep voice in a harsh tone called out to him.

"Makoto! Come down here!" Makoto jumped at the sound of his father's voice.

Peaking around the corner, Makoto spoke in a quiet, scared voice.

"Yes?"

Makoto's dad didn't respond right away as he slammed a cabinet closed with unnecessary force. Was he still drunk?

"Where's my liquor?" He asked bluntly as if Makoto would grab it from thin air. "Did you touch it?"

Makoto subconsciously took a step back as he shook his head. "No sir... I, I didn't touch it."

Makoto said, not daring to step closer to him.

"Don't lie to me, you little shit!" The man snapped, throwing a nearby glass plate, barely missing Makoto's head.

Makoto bit his lip hard enough for it to bleed as he crouched down to the floor, covering his head with his arms.

His dad clearly didn't care. Neither of Makoto's parents ever cared if he was scared, or on the brink crying, or already crying. No one ever cared.

And Makoto knew that.

"You know what, forget it! I'll just open a knew one! Go to school, you damn brat!"

Makoto quickly stood up from where he was and rushed out the door.

Anywhere was better than home... No, not home. House. Yeah, it was a house, but not home. Not to Makoto, at least.

As Makoto walked, he walked slowly. It's not like his parents actually cared if he was there on time. And he didn't have friends there, so he saw no point in rushing there.

School was just as bad as his parents house after all.

When Makoto arrived to school, he kept his head down and walked quietly.

On Makoto's way to his locker, bumped into him and others snickered. It was clearly on purpose, but he couldn't prove it.

It was always like this for Makoto. He was always abused, always bullied, always ignored... He became accustomed to it eventually.

It became... normal.

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