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Harvester of Sorrow	By : DisasterousLetdown Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Linkin Park Views: 1390 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Linkin Park. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Prologue
- 2-Chap. 1: The Day Begins
- 1
- 2
DISCLAIMER: I do not personally know Linkin Park; if I did I wouldn't be writing about them! This is just fiction, meaning I made it up in my twisted little mind ;) Don't sue me.

Chapter One: The Day Begins

I wake up in the morning with my back aching intensely; I stretch my body out to its limits to try to relieve some of the pain. Opening my eyes I sit up and look around my empty room. My walls are an off white color with huge holes in each of them. I have a broken down wooden night stand next to my cot with a single alarm clock on it. I also have a dresser in which I keep my clothes, what little I have anyway. I hate the puke green dresser though because you have to fight to get the drawers open, they stick and get jammed constantly. Other than that I have nothing in this room, nothing that identifies it as my own. I wish I could have a few posters or paintings to mainly cover the massive holes in my walls, but father would never grant me something as worthy as that. He likes my room how it is now; he doesn't want me to have any possessions. What he doesn't know won't kill him though. I do have some notebooks that I received from Rob last year for my birthday. I don't know how, but I was somehow able to hide them from him. I know if he found them he would take them away so I hide them in a hole in the wall next to my cot. I have them lying carefully on one of the beams so it is easy for me to reach them. I figured it would be the best place to hide them since he would never think to look there. Thankfully I have been right so far.

Shivers run all through my body when I put my feet on the cold concrete floor. After adjusting to the floor temperature I stand up and make my way over to the dresser. I give the drawer one good tug and just my luck... it doesn't open. Taking the handles in both of my hands I begin yanking on it and after what seems to be an eternity I finally get the drawer open. Taking out a pair of socks, which I only own two pairs, I slam the drawer shut after taking out a pair of boxers either. I have to slam the drawers otherwise they won't shut. With a sigh I give the other drawers the same treatment. After what seems forever I finally have a complete outfit. My socks have holes in the heels and toes while my dark blue jeans have holes in the knees. They aren't the best, but I am just thankful to have something to wear.

I am up an hour earlier than I should have to get up, but it has become a routine for me. Father has to go to work when I would usually be waking up to get ready for school. I have morning chores though so father forces me to get up an hour earlier so he can make sure that I get them done. Then as he is leaving for work he makes sure I leave at the same time so I am not late for school. He never drives me to school of course; I have to walk and therefore have to make sure I leave early enough so I am not late. When I am late the punishment is severe so I make sure to give myself enough time to make it to school on time.

Walking out of my room I timidly walk down the stairs and keep my head down to the ground. Upon entering the kitchen I see father sitting at the kitchen table with his morning coffee in hand. He sneers when he sees me and motions for me to get to work on the dishes from last night’s dessert. Of course I wasn't allowed any dessert, but it is expected from me to do the dishes every moment. Silently I make my way toward the sink and run the water. Once there is a good amount of water in the sink I add some dish soap and proceed to wash the bowls and spoons. Father watches me intently as he eats his morning cereal, making sure I do every last one. He doesn't know this, but I don't mind doing my morning chores because there is not much for me to do. Most of the dishes are washed the night before besides the dessert bowls because they eat dessert after I am finished with the dishes from the day. Plus the chores around the house get done once I get home from school.

Father is usually home when I get back from school, leaving me no time to rest. He works me hard too, if I take too long doing my chores I get a beating. I can't even hide the bruises anymore and it is getting harder to come up with lies as to why I have them. I usually say I bumped into something and once have even said I tripped and fell down the stairs. I bet my teachers and the school nurse thinks I am a clumsy person. Father doesn't always work such short hours, sometimes he has to work until four or five in the afternoon. He is the manager at the local bar here in town so he works short hours often and gets paid quite well if I do say so myself. I really love those days when father works later though because mother lets me wait a little longer before telling me I should get my chores done and on some occasions she has even done some of my chores for me. I don't mind when she tells me to hurry and get my chores done though because I know she is only trying to protect me from my father. I don't even have to imagine what he would do to me if he got home and noticed that I hadn't done my daily chores. He would kill me for sure.

I smile in satisfaction when I get the last spoon washed. Draining the dirty dish water I wash my hands and then dry them with a paper towel. I jump in surprise however when father's coffee cup is dropped into the sink. I timidly look up at him only to see his signature sneer. I flinch when he roughly pats me on the back right where many of my bruises are and tells me in a firm tone to wash the cup. With an inaudible sigh I turn the water faucet on once again and quickly wash his cup. Once I am done I shut off the water again and place the cup in the dish drainer with the rest of the dishes. Turning to my father I silently stand there and await his next instructions.

"What are you an idiot? Not used to the routine yet?" He asks me in a mocking tone. "I am sure you are hungry so you better hurry up and eat what I have for you before I decide to just throw it away!"

I watch as he pushes his cereal bowl toward me with a smirk on his face. He always tries to make me feel like a moron, but I know better. If I had simply walked over to the bowl and started eating its contents he would snatch the bowl away, beat me and then I would go without breakfast. I always have to wait for his permission before I do anything. He knows this yet likes to mock me every chance he gets, making me feel more worthless than I know I already am. Never the less I don't say a word, just silently walk over to the table and sit down. There is only about three spoonfuls of soggy cereal, but I am just grateful to have anything to put in my empty stomach.

It doesn’t take even a full minute to eat and I put the bowl in the sink to be washed later on tonight. Once that is done father allows me to go to my room to get my backpack. Once I have it slung over my shoulder I walk out of my room and practically run right into my mother.

"Slow down there Michael, what's the rush?" She asks me with a smile on her face.

"I have to hurry to get to school, don't want to be late." I quickly explain.

"Oh that's right, sorry." She says in sympathetic understanding as she walks downstairs with me. "You have a good day at school and I will see you when you get home."

"Damn Christine don't sweet talk the boy." Father's loud voice can be heard from behind me.

"I was just telling him to have a good day." My mother argues.

"You don't need to encourage the little bastard! Boy get outside!" He yells at me in a demanding tone.

I quickly rush outside not wanting to anger him further. Once I am outside father slams the door behind me and I can clearly hear him yelling at my mother. He is saying that she babies me too much and that she shouldn't waste her time on me. He is also saying that I will never amount to anything and that she should focus more of her attention on Jason, the real one who needs love and support. Each word cuts deeply into my heart, but I don't move a muscle... just patiently wait for father all the while trying to keep my tears at bay. I refuse to allow him to see me cry, I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing for positive that he gets to me emotionally.

I nearly jump out of my skin when father storms out of the house, making sure to slam the door as loudly as possible. I yelp in pain when he hits me upside the head and nearly fall down the porch stairs when he roughly pushes me forward. Once I have my balance back I stand awkwardly in front of father, not sure of what to do.

"What are you doing? Are you stupid?" He asks me in a disgusted tone as he glares at my pathetic form in front of him.

I just continue to stand in front of him confused as to what he wants me to do. What does he mean by what am I doing? Isn't it obvious? I am only doing what I have been doing for the past ten years!

"Go to school!" He yells in an angry voice.

I jump at the sound of his unexpected outburst and quickly run in the direction of my school. Inside I am screaming at myself, he always manages to make me feel like a moron. At times it seems like I never know what to expect from him. Just when I think I have him all figured out he does something to totally blow my mind away. I don't think I will ever know what to expect from him, why do I even try?

Now as I walk along the sidewalk to school I shiver in the chilled air that surrounds me. It is late October meaning we are officially dealing with winter and as my luck usually goes... I have no jacket. I used to have one that had holes and tears in it, but it was too small for me and father finally threw it out. Of course he didn't buy me a new one and I didn't expect him to. Now I have to worry about getting sick though, especially since I have to walk all the way to school. On good days it takes me twenty minutes to get to school, but when I am feeling sick or am in pain it takes me considerably longer. A bus does show up about approximately three blocks away from my house, but father has made it very clear that he doesn't want me riding it. I made the mistake once of thinking he would never find out and to this day I have no idea how he knew that I disobeyed his authority. I paid for that mistake though and have learned to never try something like that. Being forced to walk to school really gets annoying though and the fact that I have to walk home as well really gets old, but I have no choice in the matter. Getting sick is the worst time for me because I always feel so weak and just want to lie around, but father would never allow me to do that. I feel like shit at the time, but am forced to do my daily chores just like any day and half the time he makes me go to school as well. There has only been a couple of times when he has allowed me to stay home, but that was only because I was badly sick. During those times I like to think that deep down my father really does care, but I know I am just setting myself up for pain.

~*Twenty Minutes Later*~

By the time I reach school I am out of breath, but once again that is nothing new. I can see Dave talking with Joe at the front entrance so I slowly make my way toward them. When they notice me walking their way I watch as they both scan my outfit that they have seen on me a dozen times and then they give each other a look. That look just makes me feel lower than dirt; I know what they think of me. They think I am dirty and sadly enough... they are right. I hate to have them see me in such a state, but I really have no choice. I am surprised that they are even my friends; most people at my school hate me. They tease me because of my clothes and how skinny I am, but they never do it when my friends are around. I can't help feeling that they would be so much better off without me, their reputation would start to go up if they ignored me. People make fun of them for being friends with "The Freak" and I know it bothers them which makes me feel guilty because I know it's my fault. They always yell at whoever says anything about them though so people know not to mess with them too much. There are some exceptions though; some people here mess with us all of the time. I still can't help, but feel like they are better off without me. However, I am grateful to have them as friends.

A smile forms on Dave's face and it helps to make me feel a little better. "Hey Mike, how ‘ya doing?"

"I'm doing okay." I say quietly, my voice is always near to a whisper.

"How was your weekend?" Joe asks me as we enter the school building.

I just shrug my shoulders. "The usual."

Dave nods in understanding; at least he thinks he understands. "Sitting in front of the TV most of the time?"

"Uh... yeah, that's the usual." I reply while avoiding eye contact with both of them.

I hate lying to the only few friends I have, but I really have no choice. There is no way I could tell them the truth about my usual weekend. I have gotten so accustomed to lying to everyone that it is natural to me, almost as if it is in my nature. I don't even know if I am capable of telling the truth because I have been lying for years. Plus I don't want to know how they would react to the truth. My version of "the truth" works just fine for now, at least they never ask any questions.

"Man this Halloween is going to kick ass!" Joe's enthusiastic voice takes me out of my thoughts.

I give Joe a confused look and he lets out a sigh. "Chester is throwing this huge ass party at his house; didn't you hear a word I said this whole time?" He asks irritation clearly in his voice.

"Sorry I was lost in my thoughts." I answer with an apologetic smile.

"Everything okay with you Mike?" Dave asks in concern.

"Yeah, just got some things on my mind." I reply with a shrug.

"Well the party is at Chester's house and we are all invited of course." Joe continues talking.

"I can't go." I say softly.

"What? Why not?" Joe asks with a frown.

"My parents have a party to go to, I have to stay home with my brother and hand out candy." I lie.

"Man you never go anywhere with us, couldn't you just go this once?"

"I'm sorry Joe, but I can't get out of it."

"Well if there's any chance you can make it please consider coming, everyone would love for you to be there." Dave says with that friendly smile of his.

I just nod my head and they continue to carry on their conversation about Chester's Halloween party. I would love to go more than anything, but I know my father would never allow me to. Every Halloween I am forced to stay home and am not allowed to do anything. I remember one year, I believe I was eight years old; I was forced to stay on the front porch while they carved pumpkins and watched scary movies. I was out there until four in the morning, shivering in the cold air. Father had forgotten me out there and once mother was sure he was indeed asleep she let me back into the house. Ever since then I have hated this holiday, almost as much as Christmas.

As we walk down the hall that holds our first period classes I see the one person who keeps me alive and actually has me looking forward to each new day. I am positive that he has no idea that his presence in my life means that much to me, but he is my angel from heaven. Ever since I met him I have felt this invisible force that just draws me to him. He is absolutely perfect in every way and I am proud to say that he considers me to be a close friend of his. I live and breathe for Brad Delson, but never will I have the courage to tell him this.

He is currently talking to Rob by our homeroom, but when he sees us walking his way he gets a smile on his face and waves. I wave in return with what I am sure is an overly excited smile on my face. I can't help it; he just seems to be able to make me so happy. Loving him so much hurts sometimes, but knowing he is bi-sexual kind of has me holding onto a thin shred of hope for dear life. If I didn't know he was bi I probably would have given up a long time ago, but I hold onto the fact that someday he might tell me that he feels the same for me as I do him.

"Hey Shinizzle." Brad says with that adorable smile of his and I smile because he used his nickname he gave me.

"Hey Big Bad Brad." I say with a small laugh.

He simply rolls his eyes and motions for me and Dave to follow him into our homeroom. I gladly follow along behind him and sit down next to him at a table, knowing for a short while I can feel like I belong.

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Harvester of Sorrow