Murdoc Niccals wasn't sure what or who he hated the most. Some days he hated his abusive drug dealing drunkard father, others he hated his older Nazi Punk brother Hannibal who would beat him to the point he needed to see a doctor, and other days he hated the school that he attended where teachers never even bothered with him and students taunted and beat him shitless. He hated them all and unlike most miserable teenagers he couldn't just remind himself that in three months he would be eighteen and he could just fucking leave and start his own life. Hell he could have left when he was ten, but he couldn't and he wouldn't all because he had no means. He had no job, no friends, no girlfriend, or anybody to rely on. He didn't have any other relatives that he knew of, he didn't really want to know if he did have uncles or aunts, they'd be rotten bastards just like his father and he didn't need anymore of that shit.

Every school day he dreaded; he dreaded waking up, dreaded going to school, and dreaded going back home at the end of the day.

Today wasn't really an exception to this rule of routine.

He carefully looked out from his bedroom doorway glancing both ways before rushing into the small bathroom across the hall. He closed and locked the door behind him, grateful that at least this room had a lock on the door. He quickly undressed leaving his dirty and torn clothes on the floor, he went to the shower stall turning the water on hot then stepping in under the spray of water. As he scrubbed at his dirty skin he went lightly over the bruises on his arms from where his father had grabbed him, the bruises around his throat like a choker from where a boy at school had strangled him until he had blacked out, and was careful of the long cut across his chest from where his brother had marked him last night. Once he was sure all of the grime and blood was washed from his skin and hair he stepped out of the shower, towel dried his hair, and dressed into the same black jeans that were too tight holes piercing through the denim and dirt forever staining them. He grabbed a plain gray shirt, one of the few clean things he owned without holes or blood stains. He couldn't help but take a quick look at himself in the cracked dirty mirror that hung on the wall above the sink, he caught a glimpse of his busted lip and blackened eye. Dirty, everything in this rubbish hell hole was dirty. He hated it, but at the same time it felt like he belonged here. Some bitch fucked a bastard and here was their satanic spawn as a result of their fornication. That was how he viewed himself, his father, this house, and the mystery woman who birthed him. The one who supposedly was residing at a mental institute, all locked up in her straight jacket in a fluffy white room where she couldn't hurt herself or anyone else.

He quickly went back inside of his bedroom pulling on the worn brown coloured boots he wore every day. He rushed into the living room feeling that maybe for once he could make it out the front door without being harmed.

A hand grabbed him by his hair jerking him back, Murdoc let out a strangled cry as he fell hard on his ass. His scalp burned; whoever was holding his hair pulled hard, he felt as if his hair was being pulled out. He was released, the burning fading to a throbbing pain that he could deal with. As he started to get to his feet a foot connected with his ass knocking him face first on the ground. He felt a foot on the small of his back, a heavy weight holding him down. A beer bottle hit the ground just inches away from his face; the glass cracked.

"You trying to sneak out on me?" His brother's drunken voice asked.

Murdoc struggled trying to find a way out. Hannibal removed his foot allowing the younger Niccals to roll onto his back then quickly get to his feet.

The older man stood before him; tall, muscular, his skin a sickly green, head shaved, brown eyes so dark they were nearing black, and a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Hannibal grabbed the younger by the front of his shirt shoving him up against the wall.

"Pathetic little worm aren't you, can't even fight back."

"Sod off I just wanna go to the shit school building then come back to this fucking Hell hole."

He turned his head to the side as Hannibal blew stale cigarette smoke in his face.

"Pathetic worthless little cunt, you're lucky dad is a good enough man to take a worm like you inside of the house." He released the younger brother then punched him in the stomach causing him to double over in pain.

Hannibal grabbed him by the back of the head holding him still; he brought his knee up to his face connecting with his nose hard enough to make it crack. Blood began pouring from his nose and mouth; he felt something rattle most likely a tooth. Hannibal threw him roughly to the ground, sat on top of him, lifted his shirt up to his chin, and then proceeded to stub his cigarette out on Murdoc's chest; he laughed as the younger brother screamed in pain.

"Learn your place worm." Hannibal said as he got up then left the house.

He lay there for awhile not entirely sure what to do; go to school, take another pointless shower, or run and keep on running. If he didn't go to school then they'd give him shit, call his father, and his father would break his arm.

Two minutes later he pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, he didn't even bother with going back into the bathroom; he was already an hour fucking late, not like it really mattered. If he showed up that was all that mattered, because then they knew he was there, and maybe if he was lucky he'd somehow manage to scrape by in his grades and graduate with the rest of the losers in this bum fuck town.

This was his daily morning routine; feeling like a prisoner inside of his own home, feeling like he shouldn't be there, and that he should be ashamed of his very existence. He felt like he should apologize for his father fucking his mother and knocking her up. He felt like he caused major chaos and agony in the lives of every person he came in contact with and to be honest he loved it.