I kept on walking to the sounds of people snickering at me. I scrambled to pick up my things off of the floor. After picking up my things I scampered out of the hell-hole called 'school'. Living fairly close to the school I walked to my house and took out my key and unlocked the door. Quietly stepping inside I walked upstairs to my room, making sure not to wake my father. Slowly closing the door it squeaked loudly, and I heard someone mumbling. I held my breath as I turned pale, then I heard a snore and I breathed again, returning to my normal color. Why I was afraid of my father? To start off, ever since my mother left us and moved to New York, my dad was a mess. Who he let his anger out on? That was me; Brian. I blinked hardly pushing away the memories of my father brutally punching, kicking, and swearing at me. As I tear slid down my cheek I blinked it away. I always wished I had a picture of my mother to hug to calm me, but I had no memory of her. She left when I was 5 years old. I scrambled when I heard my name.
'BRIAN!' My father yelled 'WHERE IS MY DINNER?!' I froze, my father beat me anytime I did something wrong, or if I forgot to do something. Quickly thinking as I heard my father walk up to my room, I hid in between a small opening between my desk and my nightstand. As I pulled a tall bin in front of me my door opened loudly.
'BRIAN! WHERE ARE YOU?!' My father screamed. A chill shook up my spine at the loudness and anger in his voice. Frozen, I thought of what would happen if he found me. Then, he just left with a tomato-face. I quickly scrambled out of my hiding spot and grabbed a pillow and blanket, and headed to the bathroom. I locked the door, I wasn't going to take the chance of him beating me in my sleep.
Curled up in a ball on the floor, in a blanket, in the bathroom got the best of me and I cried. I sobbed wishing I had a better father. Before he beat me less brutally and I could learn to ignore hi at times, then he found some notes I wrote about if I should tell my father I'm gay and long story short, he beats me harder now.
I awoke the next morning sore all over, and still scared of my father. I bolted out the bathroom, skipped breakfast, grabbed my backpack and ran to school. I made it to my locker and unpacked my backpack, while keeping my math binder for first class. Bolting to my class, I was stopped by Anthony, I gulped. One of his two 'puppies' (they always follow him around) knocked down my books while his fist curled into a ball and hurled at my face. With a loud smack, I fell to the floor, my nose bleeding. Scrambling to get my things they were now kicking around. Once I finally gathered my binder and papers I ran to the bathroom, and cleaned up my nose. When I exited the bathroom, the hallways were empty. SHIT! I was late for class! Running into my class I sat down quickly and the teacher roared at me.
'Brian! You are late! What is your excuse?!'Mrs.Thomson questioned. I sat quiet. 'I thought so...' She said. The rest of the day flew by quickly, and then I bumped into Anthony again. Frozen, my face changed color.
'Hey nerd!' Anthony said, and then his curled fist made contact with my face again, this time more powerful. I fell to the ground with a bloody mouth and then I heard a low, powerful voice behind me roar.
'HEY!' Said the teenager I didn't know. Then, I turned around, it was Jake, the quarterback of our football team. Jake continued yelling at Anthony 'WHAT DID HE EVER DO TO YOU?!' Jake's face was now red.
'So what he's a fucking gee....' Before he finished his sentence Anthony fell to the ground holding his face. His two 'puppies' scampered off terrified. Jake reached down to help me up. He took me to the bathroom and cleaned up my bloody mouth.
'I'm sorry he did that to you.' Jake said in a calm voice.
'It's fine, I'm used to it.' I squeaked.
'No it's not fine, they always beat you up, and you don't do anything about it.' Jake said shakily. After he cleaned me up he walked me outside, and I walked to my house. When I got home, I couldn't stop smiling, overwhelmed with happiness. Then, I heard my dad yell my name 'BRIAN!' I was instantly paralyzed with fear. I had to think quickly. Opening my window, leaping out, my arm landed on a rose bush. I winced in pain, turning my head to my arm. It was coated in blood. Where could I go? What would I do about my arm? The only way was to face my father.....
TO BE CONTINUED...
curtis | 18 Mar 2011
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