Matthew watched the ghost. Blinking as she waved then giggled and vanished. He paled again. That ghost made him scared. He watchec Viola gasp and sit up. Rushing over to her. Placing a hand on her back as she curled up in the chair whimpering. He jumped back when she got up. Going back to his tea and drinks it. He sipped at it quickly. Trying to calm his nerves. He blinked a bit as Viola spoke. All that pain...wonder what she'd do if she knew all the pain he contained...it was far greater than anything that spirit had held. Worst part was...it got higher in extent every day. He looked at her. Moving and went to sit by her. Sitting down and looked at her. "Not all ghosts are free of pain. Sometimes even the ghosts of the living feel giagantic amounts of pain. That is just as bad as a ghost still feeling the pain they had underwent." He was meaning himself when he said ghosts of the living. "I'm sorry it brought you such struggles." He said softly. "I'm here for you...even if I might not be of much use." He said softly. He happened to look at his watch and his eyes went wide in horror. "Shit." He said.<br/><br/>He looked at her as he stood up. "I got to go Viola. I'll see you tomorrow between classes where we met. Okay? See you soon." He then bolted from there like he was in a great state of panic. He was. If he didn't get home his father would come looking for him. If he was angry enough he'd beat the hell out of him in an alley. He ran all the way home. He accidently left his backpack behind. He got home and opened the front door. No sooner had he gotten inside and shut the door...then he heard a dark drunken growl. Turning around to fly back into the door with a cough as a fist nailed him in the gut.<span style="font-style: italic">"I thought I told you about coming home late." A cold drunken voice growled at him. He then grabbed ahold of Matthews hair. Hurling him forwards and onto the ground by it. Stepping down hard on the back of Matthews right leg. "I'll teach you to defy me." he said hatefully.</span>Matthew didn't even cry out until he hit the ground after being hurled onto it by his hair. A light cry escaping his lips as he hit the ground. Crying out as his leg got stepped on. "Ah!" He cried out. That was gonna hurt.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">His father wasn't done. He began kicking Matthew repeatedly. Anywhere that he hit he didn't care where. His kicks harsh and strong. "Stupid. Fucking. Brat. I warned you!" He yelled at him. He then stomped down on matthews back. Watching him turn to his side and try to protect himself. Jerking him up by his collar and choking him a bit. He shook Matthew before slamming him into the wall making his head hit a hard picture frame. "Idiot! You listen when I talk to you!" He shouted at him in a drunken rage. He pulled back and slammed his fist into Matthews face hard. It would bruise right around his eye. He began punching him in the stomach. This time when Matthew fell he gave him one more kick to the gut before going to fall asleep. "Get to bed Matthew." He said coldly.</span><br/><br/>Matthew cried out with each kick. Feeling bruises and aches forming on his ribs and stomach. He curled up trying to protect himself from the pain. Gagging and coughed as his collar choked him. His head and body jerking around with each rough shake. Crying out in pain as tears formed in his eyes when he was slammed into the wall. He whimpered a bit. Screaming as the next onslaught of punches started. He would have to wear sunglasses tomorrow after covering the bruise on his eye with makeup. He collapsed to the floor coughing. Scrambling up and staggered to his room. Limping a tiny bit from the stomp to his lower right leg. He got ready for bed and showered. Wincing as everything hurt.<br/><br/>The next morning he woke early. His father already gone for the day. He winced as he had bruises covering his entire torso. Riddling the skin. He went into the bathroom after gathering his cutting tool. Luckily it was his private bathroom. He shut the door. Dressed in only his boxers. He ran the tub water. Putting his arm so it rested in the water. He then slowly slide the blade across his lower arm. Once near the wrist. Once in the middle. Twice on the underside of his arm near his elbow. Fairly deep cuts that began to bleed out into the tub water. Just needed to make sense of this extreme pain. It wouldn't kill him. He knew how to cut now. He wasn't little anymore. He closed his eyes and cried silently. Why did everything he do get the shit beat out of him? An hour later he rinsed off the blade and then his cuts. Wrapping athletic bandagin around the cuts. Covering them with a light covering of skin colored makeup to mask them. Hoping it would fool Viola. Nobody else ever noticed. He then sheathed his pocket knife.<br/><br/>He then got dressed for the day. Putting makeup on the bruise to make it appear smaller. It wouldn't fool anyone really looking so he put sunglasses on as well. He wouldn't take them off. He'd lie and say he ran into a door after falling to explain his limp. Luckily sports didn't start up for a couple of weeks. He'd be unlimping by then. He then realized...he'd left his backpack there with Viola. Shit! He then hurried out of the house before his mother woke. The bruises on his collar bone hidden thankfully by the t-shirt he was wearing. He limped ever so slighty and winced when he thought no one was looking. Nobody asked any questions. The ones who did believed his lies. He could lie convincingly by this day and age. He then went and limped his way to where he told Viola they'd meet. Limping to a seat and sat down. Sleepy because pain had been great last night.