A/N: Hey, everyone! Crystalteen here!

By any chance, if anyone that's reading this is a fan of my other Until Dawn story "Return to Blackwood Mountain," allow me to assure you all that I'm still writing it. I understand that I haven't updated anything in four months, but that's only because I've been caught up in handling my first year at college. I'm constantly working on assignments and I'm still trying to get used to all of the changes, so please bear with me. Nothing is going to stop me from writing. I'll update "Return to Blackwood Mountain" whenever I find the time to keep up with the next chapter.

In the meantime, here's a one-shot that came to me from the top of my head. Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts on it, whether you post them in the reviews or PM them to me. I also have another one-shot that's in the works, so keep an eye out for it in what I hope to be the near future.

Note: This isn't at all connected with "Return to Blackwood Mountain." With this being said, this one-shot contains no spoilers or hints for any future chapters/stories. My OC's also aren't part of this one-shot.

Summary: It's true, Mike agreed to return to Blackwood Mountain for the annual winter getaway ... but maybe not entirely because he missed Hannah and Beth. Perhaps, he just wanted to escape what was going on at home.

Mike's POV

JANUARY 23, 2015

THE MUNROE RESIDENTS

20:00

I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants and staring into space with tears brewing in the corners of my eyes. My head was tilted all the way back, resting against the edge of the mattress of my unmade bed as I listened to the deafening sounds of glass shattering, people hollering, and other items being thrown from downstairs. My parents were in the middle of another fight, resulting in me having no choice but to stay in my room in order to avoid being pulled into it like I have God knows how many times in the past.

Aside from the few rays of moonlight that were managing to pour in through the slim slits of my blinds and the light that was being projected from the screen of my laptop, my bedroom was completely dark. A lit cigarette was positioned between my middle and index fingers. Normally, I didn't smoke and I knew for a fact that my friends would rip me to shreds if they ever found out about how I secretly had the nasty habit of poisoning myself with nicotine. Unfortunately, whenever I came home, I couldn't help but make sure that I had at least one pack on me to ensure that I would make it through the visit. Cigarettes were my only source of comfort in this house, especially since nobody—not even Jess—knew about the dark truth that was my home life.

At what sounded like a pot being chucked with full force against the living room wall, my heart practically jumped all the way to the other side of the globe and my entire body twitched. At the same time, tried desperately—and miserably failed—to keep a devastated frown off from my face.

"I knew that I should've just stayed on campus for winter break..." I muttered under my breath, feeling my eyes growing wetter with every passing second. "Maybe I should just climb out the window, head down the street, and sleep in one of the booths at Starbucks. Anything is better than being here and listening to all of this shit ... especially right now."

While contemplating, I lifted the cigarette up to my lips and closed my pale brown eyes as I inhaled deeply. I could feel the smoke swirling around inside of me, and for the briefest moment, it felt like all of my problems had melted away. However, at the sound of my dad calling my mom a "worthless, skanky bitch" at the top of his lungs, I was immediately yanked back into the depressing reality that was my life. Still, that didn't stop me from waiting a couple of seconds before releasing the smoke through my nostrils.

Like it always did, the arguments got longer, the language got more explicit, and the violence drastically increased whenever I came home. My mother, despite being ghostly pale and thin enough to pass for an anorexic, constantly shot herself up with tranquilizers and hovered other types of drugs in spoonfuls over the stove. Not only that, but she slept a majority of her life away on the couch, dressed like a total prostitute, and stumbled out the door almost every night in order to go clubbing. My father, on the other hand, was an alcoholic gambler who wreaked of cigars, sweat, and vomit. He was the parent that caused me the most harm, whether it was by ridiculing me over the dumbest things or by throwing me to the ground by my throat and kicking me as forcefully as humanly possible until he felt that I had enough. Needless to say, my life was a piece of hell on earth and no matter where I went, I had to put on a big fake smile and create the illusion of there being actual confidence in my eyes.

My parents wouldn't stop yelling at each other, and no matter how much I desperately wanted to tune it all out, I couldn't. They were too loud, speaking on top of each other and firing back insult after insult, threat after threat, command after command. As all of this was being said, I could still hear the whole downstairs getting trashed, which meant that I was going to be forced to clean it all up by the crack of dawn. And it was only going to get worse until the day came in which I could flee back to campus, where I would take on resolving the issues that were given to me as Class President in order to avoid thinking about my own problems.

"SHUT UP, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOU!" Dad shrieked.

Dishes were thrown against the wall and shattered into millions of pieces, making my eardrums feel like they were on the verge of bleeding.

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID NOW, YOU ASSHOLE!" Mom fumed.

A sharp SLAP filled the air, no doubt from somebody's hand colliding with the other's cheek.

Dad let out a loud, drunken roar that sounded like it belonged to a demon, followed by, "YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!"

A chair was kicked over, resulting in my entire body tensing up again.

Mom objected, bellowing, "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

SMACK! The other person had been slapped.

"I WISH I NEVER MARRIED YOU!" Dad hollered, at which I felt a single teardrop escape from my right eye and trickle down my cheek.

Mom scoffed harshly. "AW, GO TO HELL AND TAKE THAT PATHETIC SON OF YOURS WITH YOU! I DON'T NEED HIM AS A REMINDER OF HOW TERRIBLE YOUR PERFORMANCE BETWEEN MY LEGS WAS!"

My hand started to tremble as I raised my cigarette again, taking another hit—this one much deeper—from it. While this happened, I screwed my eyes shut tighter than ever before, forcing more tears to spill down my face as I hoped and prayed to whoever was out there—if there was a loving God like the one that I had learned about in Sunday School as a kid—to make it all stop. Aside from the cigarettes, all I had to count on was that very faith that I had in His existence ... but in moments like this, it felt like it didn't matter. Regardless of my spiritual state, my physical and emotional states were crumbling apart more and more by the day ... and I couldn't think of a damn think to do about it.

"Let's face it ... no matter how confident you act or how strong you try to be, you'll always be the guy who was born to be broken." My brain told me as I wiped a couple of the tears away with my unoccupied hand. "It doesn't matter how you have the beige-blonde babe on your arm. It doesn't matter how much you accomplish as the Class President. In the eyes of your parents, all you will ever be is the result of a broken condom, half a bottle of Merlot, and the intense boredom that took place in the back seat of your dad's Pinto. You're nothing but a bother to them—a complete and utter failure ... and nothing will ever change that."

A punch had been thrown against the china cabinet, filling the whole house with the sound of all of the fancy teacups and crystal wineglasses being rattled against their shelves. Of course, it was accompanied by the loud BANG that came from somebody's fist coming in contact with the huge, wooden structure. Within seconds after that, the glass was shattered from something else being chucked with full force and I could hear the chinaware falling to their doom.

I drooped my shoulders and lowered my jaw, freeing the smoke from my system while letting out a discouraged sigh. Then, as I lifted my head up from the bed, my gaze fell on the long, ebony-rimmed, rectangular mirror that was just about five or so steps away from me. Courtesy of the moonlight, I was able to see my reflection—and boy, I looked awful. Every inch of my bare chest and stomach was riddled in a mixture of black, blue, and purple blotches, as well as large, swollen, red welts that had been caused by my father's leather belt. There were also hundreds of small, circular, grayish scars dotted all around my arms, each of them coming from a different time when my dad thought that I was misbehaving in some way and pressed his cigars against me until they were no longer lit.

My left eye was surrounded by a sickening shade of maroon and my upper lip was in the process of healing from being busted, no doubt from my mom throwing a couple of intoxicated punches at me after I hadn't remembered to take the garbage out the prior evening. There were even a few lopsided scratches left behind on my cheeks and chin from the protruding pieces of her wedding ring taking a few slices across my skin. All of these injuries resulted in me having no choice but to sneak into my mother's makeup kit whenever I wanted to go out in public and I always wear long sleeves, regardless of the type of event or weather conditions.

There were a couple of occasions in which some of my injuries were noticed. For example, when Josh and Chris swung by GameStop for a new zombie game during my shift, they noticed me limping behind the counter ... but I assured them that I had only tripped and twisted my ankle while walking down the steps of my front porch. Another time, when my other eye was turned black, I convinced Jessica that I had walked into a door on accident after having too many beers. Although, my friends weren't the only ones that I lied to. My professors and peers got just as suspicious and inquisitive about my constant wounds as they did, but I always managed to get away with covering up the dark truth.

"It's funny how pretty much everyone who encounters you just assumes that everything in your life is perfect, Mikey boy." I muttered to myself with my voice drenched in disappointment. "Little do they know, you might as well be putting on a mask every time you step foot out of this crap hole. Every damn day ... you laugh at things that aren't even funny, put on a charming smile to ensure that everybody around you will drop their concerns ... and you strain yourself to ignore the pain that's constantly throbbing inside of you." Once again, I closed my eyes tight and allowed myself to pause for a moment before I started shaking my head to myself. "Your classmates envy you, claiming that they want want your life ... but there are no words that could possibly describe how much you wish that you could tell them to be careful with the desires that they choose."

I ran my unoccupied hand through my hair, which was still a little damp from my shower, and drew in a sharp breath when I accidentally skimmed over a bump that was on the back of my head. Yesterday, my old man had grabbed me by my shirt, roughly shook me around to the point where my brain was rattling in my skull, claimed that I was a "pathetic waste of sperm" with alcohol staining his breath, and threw me with as much strength as possible into the wall. A dent was left behind from where my head struck, but I was just lucky that I hadn't fallen into a coma or received any broken bones—especially since my dad was one hell of a muscular man.

"I won't be able to last another twelve whole days in this place." I grumbled, nearly immune to the sound of my parents cursing by this point. "I need to get the hell out of here and spend what's left of my winter break someplace else ... but where?"

Going away to college was one of the greatest decisions I've ever made, considering it helped me escape from my abusive home life. However, during vacations like this, the campus was closed and vacated. So, it would be impossible for me to fly back until the end of break. Not only that, but a majority of the places that I normally ran off to avoid coming in contact with my parents—i.e. multiple cafes, my old high school, the park, and even abandoned alleyways that were filled with greasy trash and obscene graffiti—were either minutes away from closing or were often visited by hobos during this time of the night. I also couldn't run away to any of my friends' houses because I couldn't risk any of them finding out about what my life at home was like. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew that I had nowhere else to go.

That is ... unless...

There was one particular option sitting in the far back of my mind, refusing to fade away.

At first, I squinted in uncertainty and pressed my lips tightly together in desperation, forcing them to form a straight line; but then, with my body still being balled up in the fetal position, I turned my head and dropped my attention down to my laptop. It was still sitting on the floor beside me, wide open with the vibrant screen advertising an e-mail that I had received earlier today from Josh. It had a variety of topics incorporated into it, but all of them ended up connecting to one specific date that was surely going to haunt me for the rest of my life—February second.

To: Michael Munroe

From: Joshua Washington

Subject: Winter Getaway

Yo, Mike! What's going on, man?

I hope that I'm not catching you at a bad time, especially with you juggling so many responsibilities as Class President. I never did get the chance to properly congratulate you for that, by the way. Sorry about that—been enjoying so much booze and trips down to the bone zone lately. Guess it must've slipped my mind, but I'm sure that you got PLENTY of 'congrats' from Em to make up for it. ;) Don't let Jessica know that I said that, okay? It was just meant to be a harmless joke. XD

Anyway, I just wanted to shoot you a message to tell you about the official plans that I have recently settled on for the annual winter getaway. First of all ... maybe it's best for me to "address the elephant in the room" in order to get all of this out in the open before going into more detail.

I understand that nothing will ever be the same in any of our lives after what happened last year to Hannah and Beth ... but I knew my sisters better than anyone in the whole universe and I know for a fact that they wouldn't want any of us dwelling on the past like this. What's done is done, so we REALLY need to stop acting like we can press a rewind button to change last year's events. The two of them would want us to move on with our lives and find the strength to recover ourselves from the tragic ending of our last trip to the mountain. So, after going through months of consideration, I've decided to invite you and the rest of the crew back up to the lodge on February 2nd.

Sam, Chris, Emily, and Jess confirmed almost immediately after I sent them their e-mails. Ash and Matt were a little more hesitant, but they eventually agreed to come along since it would provide all of us with the opportunity to see each other again and help support each other through this difficult time. It would mean a lot to me if you could come along for the ride as well. For the sake of my sisters, I want us all to get together and have fun like we always used to before they went missing.

I'll be supplying alcohol and plenty of junk food! Not only that, but my family also owns this cozy little guest cabin that's a little further out in the woods. I swear, dude, it's a total babe magnet! If you want, you can take Jess on a private journey through the snow, charm her with the romantic atmosphere of the guest cabin, and engage in some more entertaining activities. ;) It's just an offer, but I don't think you would be the slightest bit disappointed if you took it.

What do you say? Are you up to returning to Blackwood?

I think that it would be very beneficial for you ... especially since I can't seem to shake the feeling that something is going on.

Is there something—anything—that you would like to talk about? Chris told me that you haven't been responding to any of your texts lately, and I can't remember the last time in which you actually ANSWERED your phone. Jess said that she's been trying to call you for the past week, but you never pick up. I've also noticed how you haven't really been active on your Facebook or Twitter accounts in quite a long time either.

Is ... everything okay?

At the mention of Beth and Hannah's names, I felt my chest swell with dread and my watery eyes started to overflow with guilt. Whether my friends acknowledged it or not, it was my fault that they had ran off into the woods during the blizzard and practically vanished off the face of the earth. Instead of letting Hannah down easy, I thought that it would've been hilarious to use her massive crush on me to my advantage. It was my idea for Matt to hide in the closet and film the whole scenario, but Jessica was the one who planted the phony love note and fused the rest of the plan together. However, I was the main participant of the prank ... and what made that even worse was the fact that I didn't even show any concern for the twins until the following morning. Why? Because (A) Emily had easily lured me back inside to have sex, and (B) I truly did believe that Hannah and Beth were secretly lurking outside the lodge the entire time, just trying to scare us into thinking that they were missing.

A large frown practically tore its way across my battered face, causing my cheeks to hurt as I continued to stare at my laptop. By this point, I couldn't tell what was hurting me more: the thought of my abusive parents, or the fact that the anniversary of Beth and Hannah's disappearance was just right around the corner.

It was true—Blackwood Mountain would never be the same to me or anybody else in the gang ... but at the same time, finding closure sounded like the greatest thought that had ever crossed my mind in what felt like centuries. Reuniting with all of my friends and having the time of our lives while helping each other move on from the past definitely sounded a hell of a lot better than sticking around in this horrible house of mine and continuing to get treated like a punching bag.

So, I placed my cigarette between my lips and drew in one final intake, right before I reached one of my hands up to my nightstand, put the cigarette out, and replaced it with my iPod. After that, I tucked in only one headphone, blew the cloud of smoke out of my mouth, and selected the song Welcome to My Life by Simple Plan from my playlist. Then, with the song playing at full volume, I uncurled my legs a little from my chest, positioned my laptop on my thighs in front of me, and started typing a response to Josh as fast as possible.

As this happened, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck shoot up as I detected the sound of heavy footsteps beginning to clamber up the carpeted staircase that was down at the opposite end of the narrow hallway. My old man's drunken voice called out in absolute fury, "MICHAEL!"

I clenched my eyes shut, feeling even more tears starting to spill down my face from knowing what was coming my way. Nonetheless, I forced myself to pop them back open and, despite how my vision kept flickering back and forth from blurry to clear, I continued to construct my e-mail as hastily as possible.

"MICHAEL!" Dad shrieked even louder, somehow not managing to cause an earthquake by how hard he was stomping. "I KNOW DAMN WELL THAT YOU HEAR ME, BOY!"

A small sniffle escaped from my system, but I refused to say anything back. I knew that if I did, it wouldn't cause any sort of change to my fate.

"ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!" Dad screamed at the top of his lungs, now standing directly outside my door. He was forcefully ratting the knob, somehow not managing to break it off, and slamming his fist repeatedly against the wood. "MICHAEL, IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOUR SPINELESS ASS, YOU BETTER OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

BANG, BANG, BANG!

I ever so quietly let out a shaky breath, forcing myself to hold on to what was left of my composure in order to finish writing out my e-mail to Josh. However, every time my father's strong hand came in contact with the door, I couldn't help but jump like a startled cat. My fingers kept twitching and I couldn't keep up with the amount of times that I had to backtrack in order to correct any misspelled words.

"MICHAEL GREY MUNROE! YOU STUPID WHORE!" Dad bellowed with such an unbelievable amount of venom dripping from his gruff voice. "OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR BEFORE I BUST IT OPEN!"

BANG, BANG!

To: Joshua Washington

From: Michael Munroe

Subject: Winter Getaway Feedback

Hey, Josh! It's good to hear from you! It's been so long, bro!

Not much is really going on with me. Just typical college life. Homework, classes, nosy professors, envious peers—you know, all of that jazz.

I know that I probably should've answered to your e-mail sooner, so excuse me for taking this long to respond. As you have guessed, I've been INSANELY caught up in handling a variety of new duties that come with being Class President. You'd be surprised with how much effort it takes to ACTUALLY improve the quality of provided lunches on campus! Believe me, being Class President isn't ANYTHING like being a genie. Although, I do wish that I could just simply cross my arms, blink my eyes, and make all of the work be finished. Maybe if I had that ability, I would find the time to visit Jess's house when her parents and brothers aren't home so we can enjoy some alone time, if you catch my drift. ;)

I'm definitely on board with returning to the lodge to see everyone again! We all deserve to blow off some steam and have some fun, especially in memory of Hannah and Beth. Not a day goes by where I don't miss them, but ... wherever they are, I'm sure that they're very happy that we're all willing to get together in order to help each other through this hard time. They're probably smiling down at us at this very moment.

I'm sorry to rush this, but I can't talk right now. I'm kinda caught up in something at the moment, but I'm definitely looking forward to meeting up with you and the others again!

There's no need to worry about me, Josh. I can assure you ... I'm fine.

I closed my eyes, feeling the cuts on my face starting to sting from the salty tears running over them. There were no words that could possibly describe how much it physically hurt me to type out those final two words.

"Blackwood Mountain ... here I come." I mentally sighed, still hearing my father going back and forth from punching the door to kicking it.

"WHY, YOU LITTLE-" Dad snarled like a junkyard dog. "JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU WORTHLESS BASTARD!"

BANG! ... BANG! ... BANG!

At last, much to my regret, the lock finally gave out and my door flew open at the speed of lightning. It slammed into the wall with yet another BANG, just as I clicked on the word Send and successfully managed to shoot the e-mail off to Josh.

A/N: There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! After four months of not updating due to school, I have brought you all a completed one-shot!

This one-shot was meant to show what abuse can do to a person and how easy it can be the overlook the truth that they're being mistreated. Mike might've been macho and full of pride on the outside, but on the inside, he was completely wounded and shattered. That's how it can be for victims of abuse. Not all of them are so easy to spot.

Remember: If you are a victim of child abuse, or you know about somebody who is being mistreated by a guardian, report it to a trustworthy adult or contact the police. There are people all around you who care. You are not alone.

Once again, I greatly admire feedback and it means the world to me. So, feel free to share your thoughts in the reviews or you can PM them to me at anytime!

Happy reading and writing to you all, my fantastic viewers! Merry early Christmas and God bless!

Crystalteen, out!