Disclaimer: I do not in ANY WAY own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends

Warning: This story includes physical and emotional abuse of a young teen.

A/N: I had to write this after I started rewatching the show. This is not a slash story.

Also, please review!

What Lies Behind the Smile? (Chapter 1)-Prologue

"Shut the fuck up! You're just a little bitch!" My mom shouts at her husband of two years, my stepfather, in her drunken and slurred voice.

There they go again. He gets up and starts to yell at her. She yells at him to leave her alone, and then starts throwing everything in her sight onto the floor. I can hear her spitting on the walls, trying to get him but obviously failing.

"Sick cunt!" He yells and goes back to their room.

"That right. You don't mess with the me! Ass-hoe! Woo!" My mom shouts at the top of her lungs, forgetting that I'm here.

Hello. My name is Mac Kazoo and I am twelve years old.

This is what I go through when I am at home on a daily basis. This is a good day; it's only arguing for the most part. On a bad day, she starts hitting him and then he fights back. Once she even called the police and left our house just to get him in trouble even though he was only trying to sleep, all while I was trying to get my homework done.

"Screw this. I'm out of here." I mumble to myself. I open my door, and I can tell they're both in their room, still arguing. I grab my key to Foster's and my cell phone, which I paid for myself through saving my gifts from family, and head out the door.

This has been going on for about a year and a half. I have been forced to grow up much quicker than I should have. It's not easy being a gay eighth-grader in an abusive house-hold who still has to hide the fact that he visits his imaginary friend after school from his parents.

Wait, you didn't know. Oh yeah, right. I haven't told anyone yet, except for my group at Foster's. I'm gay. My parents don't know, and I pray to God that they don't find out.

I start walking to Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. I'm fortunate that Bloo doesn't live with me anymore. If he did, he would be getting abused as well. There's no way I would be able to put him through that.

But Bloo doesn't even know this is happening. I have to pretend that everything is all right. It's not the Imaginary Friend's job to worry about the creator. The creator is supposed to worry about the friend.

I soon get to Foster's and the lights are unsurprisingly off. I put my key into the door, and turn it quietly so I don't accidentally wake someone up.

I walk in, open my phone as a light, and I lock the door behind me. I decide to do some homework. I do my homework here now, since that time my mother called the police that one night. It's Friday night, and I don't have anything due until the last class on Wednesday. That project is already finished, so I begin to work on my Spanish project. I go to my study room, which is really just an empty closet with a light in it.

It's not that late. It's only 10:00 and I get most of the project done in only a half hour. That's the good thing about doing homework at Foster's at night. Nobody knows I'm here because they're sleeping, so nobody can bother me while I work.

I decide to go home now. I'll take my shower now and I'll just wake up early tomorrow. If I wake up early tomorrow, I get to go to sleep earlier so I don't have to sit through their fighting.

I put all my homework away and go home. I can't hear any yelling through the walls, so maybe my stepfather is finally sleeping. I open the door and I can hear my mom's drunken voice as she sings loudly while listening to her mp3 player.

I go to my room, setting my phone on the bed and my glasses and key on the stand next to my door. I grab underwear, sweatpants, and a shirt for when I'm done.

I then walk to the closet, grab a large towel and a small towel, and head to the bathroom. I get undressed, looking at my naked body in the mirror.

The bruises have since vanished. They weren't that large because she hasn't thrown too large of objects at me. It's been a while, but they have finally vanished. I take a moment and rub my chest.

Then I look at my penis. Things would be a bit easier if I didn't have this. Being gay is just the icing of the cake that is my fucked up life. If I was a girl, at least I would be a straight girl. A tomboy yes, but still a straight girl. (Just to be clear, I don't mind being gay. It's just more difficult.)

How I wish I didn't have to deal with this. I thought I was a good person. I don't think that I deserve any of this. I walk into the shower, turn on the hot water, and quickly get out so it can warm up.

I start thinking about things. I wonder how my friends at Foster's would react if they found out about this abuse. Bloo would want to get revenge, Eduardo would cry, Wilt would apologize and ask if I was alright, and Coco would lay a few tens of eggs out of surprise. They would probably tell Frankie and Mr. Herriman. I don't want to think about what would happen next.

Once the water is warm enough, I step in and turn on the cold to keep the temperature at bay. I start to wash my body, which is just starting puberty. I wash my arms, my legs, and my hairless chest. I rinse under the water, which has become a bit cold but still nice. I notice my nipples have become hard. I rub them a little and stifle a moan.

I continue to wash myself, saving my penis and my butt for last. I am a bit of a hygienic freak, so I give special attention to those areas. Once that's done, I wash my long, brown hair. Because I usually take my showers in the morning, I sometimes have to skip washing my hair so I'm not late to school. It feels good to have clean hair.

I turn the water off and I step out of the shower. I dry myself off, surprisingly not needing the small towel like I almost always do for my eyes. Once dry, I look at the mirror. I can see a small gleam of light from a left-over drop on my chest. I wipe it off, and get dressed. I brush my hair, leaving a small curl at the front and smile when it's perfect. I walk to my room and see my mother there, my phone in one hand and a knife in the other. I notice a belt next to her.

"H-hello." I say, scared about of my mind that she's going to attack me. "Where's dad?"

"He went out to get a whore and not feed me." She raises the knife up as if she's going to throw it at me. "Explain this!" She screams and throws my phone near my crotch, narrowly missing it. I unlock it and see that my journal is open. It's the one where I confessed that I was gay. It was written a few months ago, before I completely accepted myself.

"You're a faggot! You're really a little homo. I can't believe it, Mac. You're a fucking faggot that likes to take it up the cornhole!" She screams at me and throws the knife at me. I almost dodge it; it scrapes my arm. I'm too scared to notice.

I put my phone in my sweatpants' pocket. She looks at me again, grabbing the belt. She whips my head with it, and I grab my head. She whips my legs all over, and I fall. She whips my stomach. She whips my back. Out of desperation and fear, I cover my crotch in case she decides to whip there too. She does, but she only hits my hand. She whips my head a few more times before wrapping the belt around my neck and kicking my in the side. She laughs and walks out.

I quickly unwrap the belt from my neck and stand up. I limp over to my key and glasses. I put my glasses on and put the key in my pocket. I quickly put socks and then my shoes on. I grab my house key and stuff it with the other key. I grab my sweater and run out the house door as fast as I could, which isn't that fast with all these injuries.

I don't stop running. I run to Foster's. Halfway there, my body feels numb. I can feel blood in my hair, on my legs, arms, back, chest, and hands. I make it to Foster's, and I open the door. I lock the door, and I fall to the ground. I take my phone out and look at the time. 12:00 AM. Nobody will know I'm here for another six hours at least.

I try to get up, but my legs give way. With all my energy, I am able to shout one word a few times.

Help.

Nobody comes to my rescue.

"Help, help, help…" I say quietly to myself, no longer able to scream. I soon slip away into unconsciousness.

I hope I'm only sleeping.

A/N: How was this first chapter? I don't think it was that good, but I think the story will get better. I know what I'm going to write next. Also, don't forget to review!