Here is my first Kames story! Eeeeeep! I am soooo excited! I really hope you enjoy the first chapter:)
WARNING: abuse, self- harm, and probably a lot more...

Disclaimer: I do not own BTR. If I did, Kendall and James would both be shirtless and all over each other... and I'm pretty sure that Nickelodeon would not let that slide...

I'm not a bad kid. Sure I don't have the best grades and I can be a bit mouthy, but it's not like I'm going out every night, smoking, drinking, or trying to stab somebody. I spend my nights with my best friend Kendall, doing homework and watching movies. Heck, I would say I was a great kid, but my dad doesn't see it that way. He thinks I was sent from the devil, himself, just to torture him. He is one of those Christians that go overboard with their religion. He believes that he can beat the evil out of his family, and that I am the one that has the most evil in them that he has ever met. But the thing is, I'm not evil. Or at least I don't think I am…

Every night I come home to find my mother cowering in a corner of the living room and him standing over her, trying to get the 'evil spirits' out of her. Usually I try to protect her, he tells me I'm a demon-child, hits me a couple of times, and then we all go to bed; but tonight it's not the same.

I walked in the house and hung my jacket on the coat rack. I had been at Kendall's, the 'safe-place' as I like to call it, and I had lost track of time. I'm sure dad's not going to be too happy… As I walk in the living room, I am met with the same scene that plays out every night.

"James! Get in here now!" he bellows, and I am quickly at his side.

"Yes dad?"

"What is this?" when he turned around to look at me there was something wrong. There was something in his eyes that made me want to run away.

When he held up the bottle Jack Daniels I was momentarily confused until last night's events ran through my mind. "Hey James. Can I hide this in here? You know how much your father doesn't like me to drink…" Those are the exact words that left my mother's mouth as she hid the bottle of whiskey in my dresser. I dismissed it as it was a daily occurrence, and let her hide it. Ever since dad started beating us, mom turned to drinking as her way of coping, and dad didn't like it. So as I stood there looking at the bottle, I knew what I had to do.

"It's a bottle of whiskey."

"Is it yours?" I flinched a little, but kept my ground.

"Yes." I have to protect her.

Before I knew it I was on the ground and my dad was sitting on top of me, punching me square in the jaw. My eyes watered, but I didn't dare let a tear fall. That's what he wanted, because it showed mercy, but I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. He continued to punch me in the face, and I swiftly pushed him off of me, stood up, and walked towards my room as he tried to regain his balance. I assumed like any other 'fights' we have, he would just let me leave, but as I walked down the hallway my head suddenly connected to the wall, and I could feel something wet running down my face. Turning around I saw my dad standing behind me with this sinister smile on his face.

"Jameys, if I have to, I will beat the evil out of you." He looked deranged.

Punching me in the stomach he chuckled. I fell to the ground trying to catch my breath as he walked over to the side-table and grabbed the glass vase sitting on it. Holding the vase above his head, he brought it down forcibly, and the glass shattered into my back. I felt every piece digging into my skin, and I knew I had to get away from him soon.

I started running. He already had found all the places I had hidden from him before, so I just ran to the nearest door. I quickly shut the door and turned the lock, and turning on the light I found that I was standing in the bathroom. Walking over to the mirror I was almost scared to see the damage that he had done. As my face flooded the mirror above the sink tears welled up in my eyes.

My tan skin was paled as blood gushed from my forehead, and my jaw was swollen in an unnatural, way turning purple. I slowly moved my hands over my face, trying to assess the damage, but was soon as my fingertips lightly touched my jaw I almost passed out from the pain. Turning around to look at my back I found that my white, V-necked t-shirt was soaking in the thick, red liquid that the glass had produced. I winced as I carefully plucked the bigger chunks of glass from my back, but I had to do it. There were still smaller piece logged into my skin to where I couldn't reach them, and I knew mom would have to help me get them out later. As I turned back around to look at my face, I tried to understand why my dad thought I was so evil; why he couldn't love me.

Before I knew it, I was rummaging through the draws for something forbidden. Just like how my mom had her drinking to run to, I had my razor. Sure I held it together in front of my dad and my mom, but behind closed, locked doors I would let the cold metal penetrate my tan skin, and let the blood flow down the drain. Pulling it out of the top drawer, I slowly brought the metal to my arm, but the door flew off the hinges before it made contact to the skin.

"Oh, so now you're one of those depressed kids that cut? You need to be ridded of this evil."

Pulling the razor from my hand, he quickly pinned my to the ground, holding my right arm out beside him. Putting his left knee on my wrist and his right one on my shoulder, I couldn't move as he started carving into my arm. My arm stung and I gasped out in pain as I could feel the metal digging deep into my skin. It wasn't the same as me cutting. I knew how deep was too deep, but my dad just kept pushing the razor deeper and deeper into my flesh. It felt like my arm was on fire, and I held my breath, trying not to move, thinking if I did it would only make the pain more unbearable. The pain was blinding as he put the last few cuts into my arm, and he stood up to look at his work with a smile upon his face.

"That should do it!" and with that he left me on the bathroom floor.

Looking over at my right arm all I could see was blood, and I knew I needed to get somewhere safe; I needed to get to Kendall. Slowly standing up I made my way to the front door and grabbed my coat, wrapping it carefully around me, before stepping out the door into the snow. Kendall's house was only down the road from mine, so I started walking, and with each step I took, I felt weaker. A trail of blood was forming behind me in the white snow, and I knew I had to get to Kendall fast.

Practically dragging myself up the steps to his house, I finally made it to the door. Banging on it with my left hand, I slumped against the doorframe and slid down to the ground. The door opened and I looked up to find Kendall with a quizzical look on his face as he didn't see anyone standing in front of him.

"K-Kendy…"

"J-James?" his voice cracked as he stared down at me.

"Help m-m-me."

I really hated doing that to James... I teared up while I was writing it. I hope you liked it!

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