“I see you’ve made yourself yet another fucking fine mess,” Dad remarked coldly, “Why can’t you be more like your brother…” He made the comment just to hurt me, he felt the same about Jason as he did me. My brother may have been an A+ student that excels at everything, but dad still doesn’t give a shit. But that didn’t keep his ploy from working, the knife that was his words dug deep down in my heart.
“Dad I’m sorry,” I said softly, some part of me that loved him pulling back up to be shown, “I didn’t mean to get in trouble I just-“.
“Wanted to make a scene to get some attention from me?” He said, spitting the sour words out at me, “Well you’ve got it now, it’s bad enough I have to deal with your shitty grades, I don’t need you getting yourself in trouble.” His words hurt, really bad, because this is all he ever called me. A brat, a lowlife, anything but something actually loving, I personally think he’s incapable of anything to do with that word.
I sat next to him in his Shiny black SUV, he was right there, but in all honesty: We were worlds away from each other and there was absolutely no denying that. We looked alike, wavy jet black hair, Bluish grey eyes, muscular build. Everything about us was so similar but… We didn’t seem like anything other then something gone horribly wrong, dead even.
I sat there, day dreaming about a dad who cared, one who would go if I had a basketball game, or something that would mean a lot if he was there. That he would’ve taken me and Jason out to play catch with him when we were little instead of screaming at us to get away from his desk. That he would have held us when we had gotten scraped up, stood up for us when we’d been bullied.
That last one would’ve meant the absolute world to me. Never once had he said anything when I was being bullied in 8th grade, all he said was that I needed to man up and tell them to leave me alone. Then when I tried to stand up for myself the attacked me in the locker room, cornered me up in a shower stall and had it not been for Jason walking in and stopping them I would’ve had a hell of a lot worse then a bloody nose and black eyes.
Yes Jason could be an asshole, yes he was a lot like dad in certain ways, how he could be snooty and condescending. But at least he attempted to be supportive, he at least tried to make me feel like I wasn't worthless.
Thinking about all this had made me tear up a bit, and I turned my head towards the window, staring out at the empty woods and plains. Such a strange place compared to Denver, so much smaller and quaint, not anywhere near as many people.
We got to where our house was, it was a large house made out of red bricks and a tan roof, with a patio out on the back. As if there was actually something to look at other then trees. The car rolled into the driveway, and I prepared myself to go through the gates of hell once again.